Ok, call me shallow. But I think many of us can be guilty of being shallow when it comes to muscle and wrestling. While we each have our own reasons why we wrestle, there’s plenty of common ground that we all share. We like the aggression. We like the primal, man on man contact. We like the battle between two men. I agree with all of that. Now this is where I will come off a shallow. Muscle. A great body. And a guy who knows how to use his physique in a match. The allure of wrestling for me is to test out another man’s muscle to see what they can do. Yes, I know. I know. We are more than just our physiques. And I DEFINITELY know that wrestling is won in large part by the strategy in which we use against our opponent. Sheer strength doesn’t decide a match; nor does a bigger set of pecs mean you’re gonna win. But, let’s face it, there’s a part of us all that gets a little weak when it comes to a great physique.
There’s just something about a hot guy sporting a hot body that elevates a match for me. This doesn’t mean that I expect my opponents to be fitness models. Face it, they look good, but not many of us get to actually see a fitness model on the street, let alone on the mats. But I like a guy who is no stranger to the gym and one who is not ashamed to let that muscle do some talking once we step onto the mats. For me, a built guy makes me want to be a better wrestler. It automatically makes me kick into my A Game.
In my own matches I’ve witnessed how the lure and allure of a decent physique can give a man the upper hand. There have been times when I meet an opponent, take off my shirt and get into gear when they automatically assume that I will completely dominate them on the sole attribute of being in shape. I’ll use that to my advantage and I don’t mind stooping to some pre-match flexing to further psyche a guy out. It’s like muscle is that secret ingredient that guys just crave to feel while they are wrestling. On the flip side, I’ve been the guy that drools when an opponent shows off their body. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I want to feel them use that muscle and power to take control. I hate to admit it, but there’s always that sense that the better built man SHOULD win.
But that’s not how wrestling works. Despite the initial impression – ok, let’s call it was it is – muscle lust – sets in and you settle into the match, the mix of skill, strategy and strength are what leads to the win. Talent wins. Muscle doesn’t guarantee a victory.
Finally, for me, I prefer to wrestle a guy who is fit, mature, athletic and confident. Yes, muscular helps, but I want them to know how to wrestle. I know we all come in different shapes and sizes, and I’ve wrestled the gamut – but my heart gets racing when my opponent has a good set of pecs and guns. It’s one of the things that drew me back in wrestling. I’d see a hot guy on the street and I couldn’t help but wonder how’ I’d do against him. Muscle has its allure.
I’ve never been into boys. Ok let me correct that, I’ve been into guys for a very long time. But boys just never really did much for me. Wrestling them was too easy. Talking to them was too dull. Men were, and continue to be, what turns me on. Even as a boy, I remember my sexual fantasies and lust centered squarely on men weren’t ashamed to be over 40. Guys who couldn’t be intimidated by the gym. Guys who had no problem showing the results of their battle against aging. Maybe it was my first glimpse of Robert Conrad in Wild, Wild West. Or my uncle’s biceps that constantly threaten the seams of any short sleeved shirt he ever owned caused my infatuation with men and muscle. The combination of number birthdays and muscle were one of the few things that consistently have made me weak in the knees. Muscle Daddies evidently were my thing.
My wrestling coach, back in the day, didn’t help matters. At 5’8” his height wasn’t ever intimidating to me. But those biceps. Those lats. The legs. No other teacher ever challenged him. And I’m betting I’m not the only wrestler ever on this team to bone up over him. Even in my 30’s I recall some of my hottest romps and matches with guys well into their 50’s. One man in particular, Ian totally hit all my hot buttons. We met at the gym and I noticed him immediately standing in locker room in just the gym-issued towel. He had abs of a 25 year old athlete and the face of a 55 year old professor. He inspired me to a great workout that day. To my surprise, 90 minutes later he was still in the locker room. And happy to see me. We wrestled the next day and the intensity and power and sweat defied his age. And snagged me hard. But sadly, he was off to return to Dallas that evening.
Fast forward to now when I am the one who have tallied up the birthdays and find myself north of 50. Like my idols from my youth, I’m committed to the gym. I love working out and I’m determined to keep it up. And what I like about MeetFighters is that there’s no shortage of guys who inspire me. This isn’t a group of boys. It’ been who still look good. Still wrestle…and wrestle hard in one of the most challenging sports there is. I look around at the guys who are older than me who still inspire me. One guy in particular has been a friend for years. We’ve helped each other through high and lows in life and have always been there for each other. In his late 50’s he asked for my help in getting back into the gym. I shared my workout routines. He followed them. Improved them. And showed more commitment than even me. In less than a year his body morphed into something special. Now at 62 he’s back in the gym and pushing himself harder than most 26 year olds. And I like that our relationship has changed and morphed along with his physical changes. I’ve happily climbed off of the pedestal he put me on. And I am thrilled to see him achieve his goals and turn heads. I’m proud of him and proud of the countless other men who keep fighting the fight. Keep building and defining and making age a badge of honor. To me, you’re all Power Studs.
Why is that that wrestling causes so many of us to question things? From our sexuality to why we find wrestling fun and erotic. Was it always a homoerotic sport of something we created in our own minds? Will my wife find out that I wrestle other guys? The list of questions that arise about wrestling is long and hard (to answer).
Face it, much of the wrestling we discuss in here is homoerotic in nature. It's not the main stream stuff you see on TV on a Monday or look forward to each Olympics. To most of use there's a primal draw to this sport. The combination of physical, mental, emotional and sexual needs that get put to the test when we set foot on a mat. For me, my questions tend to be more about "Can I beat this guy?" "Am I stronger?" "Am I more skilled, faster or craftier on the mats on this stud?' Or even the (very) occasional," Damn I'd love to wrestle that one" when a hot guys comes my way on the street. But I have met – and wrestled – many straight men who spend as much time wrestling with their feelings as they do wrestling an opponent. They question their sexuality – is wrestling just an excuse to rub up against another man, or is it just "men being men"? They wonder if they should be ashamed for doing this and especially feel the need to explain that the boners they are sporting are in no way sexual. For me, there's never a need to explain their erection.
I get it. I've excused more than a couple of hard-ons. But then I realized it's natural. It's the exertion. The competition. The proving that you're the better man or being aroused by getting your ass kicked. IWhatever the cause, it's natural. It's part of the primal nature of this sport. So for you married men and straight guys who bone up while wrestling, don't beat yourself up – I'll be happy to do that for you. I get why you got wood. It just tells me that I'm doing something right in the match!
Do we really need titles and roles when it comes to wrestling? I get a kick out of guys who automatically as the questions, "Are you a heel or a jobber?" My response is, "why don't we find out?" But in all honesty, for me, having a label simply means that the guy isn't willing to explore all sides of wrestling.
I get the need to dominate and understand the "heel mentality". Most men like to see themselves as alpha males. But that doesn't necessarily mean that they ARE an alpha male. In a real wrestling match, it's rare to have a tie. One man wins and one man loses. Just because you win doesn't automatically make you a heel. And a loss doesn't necessarily make you a jobber. For me, it means I came up short and got out smarted, out muscled or out wrestled.
When you hear the word jobber, most of us think of a guy that get pleasure from losing. They are devoid of the alpha male drive to win and enjoy being dominated. Sure, that's a big part of the jobber role; you expect the guy to "get off" on being beaten and turned on by the consequences of it.
But for me, these roles come from the world of professional wrestling world, where I feel it's more about the theater of wrestling. This has evolved in to other areas of wrestling as well. When I set up a match and guy automatically assumes that I'm a heel, I already know the kind of match he wants. Sure, I get pleasure out of beating a guy; but I much prefer to beat a guy in a competitive match.
But here's the catch.... I don't always WIN those competitive matches. I step on the mats expecting to win, but sometimes, I walk off the mats a loser. And since I'm being honest here, some of those loses are exceptionally erotic to me. Does that make me a jobber? Nope.
It makes me a Heelber. A new breed of legitimate wrestlers do go balls to the walls in a match and are willing to accept any outcome. They strut out prepared to win, but know it's possible that they can lose. They get into the struggle and begin to uncover all the elements that make for a great match. The physical power and skill. The mental strategy that goes into anticipating a move and trying to stay two moves ahead. The psychological side of wrestling that comes into the play once the match unfolds. We all know it. That rush you get when you're winning and you can stare into your opponents eyes and see that is he is beaten. The feel of his muscle as you pin him down and sense that the fight has gone from the sinews of his muscle fibers. He just can't defend. And you feel victory. And, admit it guys, we all the frustration that comes from that moment in a match when you realize that YOU are the one who is gonna lose. Your body gives in to the relentless attacks of a better opponent. You head tells your muscle it's over.
So next time one of you ask; don't just settle for heel or jobber. Remember, many of us are heelbers.
Talk amongst yourselves.
Few sports get a rise out us like wrestling. Literally. What is it about two men rolling around on the mats trying to out muscle each other? Well, other than the obvious. But seriously, just what is it that turns this sport into a fetish for us?
Oddly, when competing in wrestling matches in school, the thought of boning up embarrassed the hell out of me. Standing there in a tight singlet that left little to the imagination, and then seeing your opponent – a muscled up jock packed tightly into his own singlet – rarely resulted in any sign of wood. I was focused on the match and the potential to pin this stud down. (I will admit to some serious jack off sessions after the match, when I got home and was lying in bed thinking about that incredibly buffed red-headed jock I had just wrestled. To this day, a muscled up ginger is better than any Viagra or porn. Not that I need Viagra.) Erections had no place in freestyle wrestling. Ironic.
There’s irony here ‘cause I can recall about a million and a half erections I had sprouted in my teen years watching other people wrestling. (And another million and half as an adult.) As a kid, Wild Wild West was my porn. I’d lay on the floor and watch Robert Conrad strut around shirtless, wearing pants that were twice as tight as any singlet could ever be. I knew that at any time he was about to get in a fight with anywhere from one to twelve guys. And he’d kick ass every time. I would join “The Wet Pocket Club” pretty much midway thru any episode.
I’d scan the TV channels and stop at WWE, Wide World of Sports, be glued to the Petaluma Arm Wrestling Championship. And yep, I’d be hard as hell. Yet when I wrestled, I’d be thinking dead puppies, 80 year old saggy boobs, and the smelly girl in geometry class. Anything that would keep my dick from rising.
So what IS it about wrestling that makes it so hard?
For me, wrestling is that primal quest between two men to prove who the stronger man is. It’s the most basic and primal sport we know. You step out on the mat and both man plan on winning. But only one CAN. It’s where we use our muscle, power, skill and strategy to prove we are the better man. Perhaps it’s our in-bred alpha male mentality that causes the blood to flow into our genitalia when we begin to show our dominance. We are programmed to win and our dicks are programmed to respond to our acts of power.
But I also know guys who dispel that theory. For them, getting over powered is just swell. (Pun intended).
For me, I'm sticking the alpha-male urge.