Ain’t No Sunshine

When I was in high school, I read an essay by Mark Twain, from his collection Life on the Mississippi, in which he talked about how much he loved the Mississippi River when he was a kid and how his love for the river indelibly marked and changed and influenced his life, so much so that he couldn’t imagine doing anything other than being a riverboat captain when he grew up. And he did…learning how to read the signs of the river so he could pilot his boat safely, but in doing so, the river changed for him. It was no longer a big mystery; now he saw it as shoals and currents and sandbars and hazards for the boat. I’ve always, whenever I’ve chased down one of my dreams/fantasies, remembered that essay with a tinge of sadness, because I know exactly what he meant and how it feels.

Take Cole Cassidy as an example.

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I first encountered Cole Cassidy when I got the tape Ringwars 11. In it, Cole took on a young man who went by the name “Tarzan” Tyler Reece. Reece had a mop of long hair—very lord of the jungle—and he wore basically a wrestling trunks version of a loincloth. It was a terrific look, frankly, and not one I would usually go for. I’d bought the video (back in the day of videotapes) primarily for the Tommy Tara/Marco Guerra fight, but as I watched my way through the video—it took me a while to get past Match 2—Cole v. Tarzan.

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I originally got drawn into the match because of lithe, sexily lean Tyler—but it didn’t take long before Cole caught my attention—and kept it.

It’s not that hard to see why, is it? That fucking vascularity. Those veins are not only prominent, but enormous. A body builder doing a competition would envy that vascularity.

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I’ve often been accused of being a body fascist, which I’ve always taken with a degree of amusement. Yes, I appreciate the male form, and yes, I appreciate the male form that is in excellent shape—but it’s more of an aesthetic appreciation. I like all kinds of bodies—which is in no small degree influenced by my lifelong enjoyment of professional wrestling. Are John Cena and Randy Orton fucking gods walking the earth as men? Yes—but I also find the traditional pro-wrestler body, as evidenced by my lifelong attraction to some other, less body beautiful type wrestlers—Bob Orton, Ivan Koloff, etc. There’s a certain something that some guys have that I’m drawn to, and a lot of it has to do with how much they enjoy wrestling.

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Watching Cole in the ring against young Reese, he had that something I am drawn to—call it charisma, call it whatever you want to call it—he had it. It was also clear that he was enjoying himself; he was having a good time even when Reece had the upper hand and was punishing him. And looking at the two of them, it was clear who was filling the role of heel and who was the face; it was the classic wrestling trope–older, nasty heel taking on fresh-faced energetic youngster (apparently fresh out of the jungle), and it was a terrific, amazing match.

I began actively seeking out and ordering Cole’s matches; I became, as I said, a huge fan. It seemed that around the time Cole made his video debut was one of those transitional times at BGEast; when a new stable of stars was rising and the previous stable was giving way to the them. Cole was definitely in the mold of the BGEast heels I’d loved watching–Mikey Vee, Joe Mazetti, Cruz, Jose, the Bodywrecker–and it was fun watching him take pretty boys apart, piece by piece–and even taking on some of the previous generation’s heels in some terrific battles.

So, naturally, when I was invited to work in front of the cameras, and was asked whom I wanted to get in the ring with, without hesitation I replied, Cole Cassidy.

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Again, the definition on that body; the shape of the pecs perfection, the huge shoulder caps and biceps, the bulging veins on the massive quads, the hard and tight muscular ass.

That match has yet to see the light of day, but the “vault” matches somehow always seem to make their way out to the viewing public, so perhaps someday it will.

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Oh, that sexy sneer! I also don’t, usually, care for facial hair that much…but Cole’s just added to the nasty heel look he carried off so well.

But over the course of my first taping weekend–I don’t recall if it was before or after we got in the ring together for our match–Cole and I became friends. I don’t remember which night it was, but one of the nights that weekend we wound up being the last two people awake in the compound, and when I came back out to the living room he was watching The West Wing on television; a marathon on Bravo, I think it was. The West Wing was, and remains, one of my favorite television shows of all time, so soon we were talking about the show, politics, and bonding. We’ve seen each other a few times since then–taping weekends, business trips to the city where he lives–and while we have fallen out of touch somewhat over the years, I do still think of him fondly as a friend.

And I also learned the same lesson Twain discussed in his essay: now that I saw Cole as a person and as a friend, I no longer saw him as the heel of my dreams. Sure, he is still sexy as hell, and fantastic in whatever wrestling environment he appears in….but I no longer see him through an erotic, sexual lens; even thinking about that makes me feel uncomfortable. Now that I think of him as a friend, he is no longer an object of desire.

Which always gave me pause when thinking about potential opponents for before-the-camera work. Meeting and working with another wrestler, getting to know them as a person, completely changes the fantasy aspect, makes it almost impossible to  maintain–and kind of a squirmy discomfort. This also, it turns out, happened with other BGEast wrestlers I had fantasies about, were objects of lust; once I actually met them–whether we actually worked together or not–I could never quite seem them in the same way again.

Make a friend, lose the fantasy.

So while I do have some regrets about some of the guys I never worked with, in some cases I’m kind of glad we didn’t; I was able to preserve my fantasies that way.

I Will Remember You

I’ve been a fan of BGEast for nearly thirty years…which is pretty remarkable.

One of the great things about BGEast is the history there. They’ve been producing amazing wrestling videos of all kinds of matches with all different body types and match-styles from the very beginning; there is literally something there for everyone. Oh, sure, I occasionally commit adultery and buy a match from another company–but overall the quality isn’t as consistent.

And periodically, there’s a sale on the Arena that reminds me of a match I loved and haven’t watched in an eternity.

Case in point: Fantasymen 22, with the ring battle between Antonio and Sean Ribeiro.

Antonio:

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Sean Ribeiro:

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Fucking hot bodies, amirite?

Professional wrestling–and to a lesser degree, boxing–was like porn to me when I was a kid trying to come to grips with my sexuality. Wrestling was always a major turn-on for me; so much so that I was afraid to actually go out for the wrestling team (when I was in a high school that had one) because I was always afraid I’d pop a massive boner in my singlet. ( I am now aware that’s a common occurrence; young men and body contact, of course it’s going to happen) It stands to reason that professional wrestling produced for the gay eye would, therefore, be the best thing that ever happened for me.

Alas, while sometimes ring matches for BGEast involve nudity and some erotic content, they don’t always…but even when they don’t, the song-and-dance of the match usually pushes every button I have and I have the desired physical reaction.

Initially, I purchased Fantasymen 22 for long-haired wrestler Rolando, who has a fantastic underwear match with Tommy Tara on Undagear 7 (a match I also need to revisit), and as always discovered some incredibly hot wrestlers that were new to me–including Justin Pierce and Nick Archer.

But the first match on this tape, the Antonio-Sean Ribeiro match, really caught my dick’s attention.

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The minute Antonio came into camera range I was sold. There’s something about him that’s just ruggedly masculine; the thing that turns my crank. He was also wearing leather chaps and a cowboy hat; he was working that cowboy gimmick like nobody’s business…and I’ve always had a thing for cowboys.

It was also a ring match…and all he had on was a thong that emphasized just how perfectly shaped his hot ass was.

(Aside: I vote for more ring matches in thongs, jocks, underwear….pro gear is fine, I love it and its also a turn-on trigger for me, but other gear in the ring gives it a more, I don’t know, underground just two guys getting together for a good time feel….I loved the Hard Pros series, but that’s a subject for another time.)

Sean was no slouch in the body department, either–but in his peach square cuts (which I assumed correctly would come off during the match, also revealing a thong) his trash talk didn’t seem as meant; more like kidding around, but when Antonio yelled WHOO and said “Im going to kick your ass” I absolutely, positively believed it.

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And Sean–and his equally fine ass–had some great moments in the match; it wasn’t even remotely as one-sided as I thought it would be. But Antonio’s holds were just a bit nastier, meaner, more vicious and designed to wear a foe down to defeat…whereas Sean, while inflicting pain and seeming to enjoy it, didn’t go that extra inch or so to make it even more nasty and brutal.

I mean…

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Both men, when on the receiving end, suffer beautifully, believably, and sell the hell out of this match.

And there’s even a brief while where it looks as though Antonio’s taunting words from the start of the match might wind up biting him in the ass.

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There are so many stellar moments in this fight that it’s hard to pick highlights.

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Yeah, this one is definitely a classic.

Sean, alas, never appeared again in a match for BGEast; Antonio only made one other match (in release, anyway), Hunkbash 8, which I’ve not seen.

It’s a pity. He was one hell of a hot cowboy heel.

On the Dark Side

I love pro wrestling, obviously.

Most of my time at BGEast was spent as a heel–and I was a damned good one, thank you very fucking much–but I’ve also enjoyed jobbing. I like seeing how much I can take–and I can take a fucking lot.

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I can’t remember if it was on Ringside at Skull Island or Bard who reviewed one of my matches and described me as freakishly flexible, but it’s true: I am freakishly flexible, always have been. Maybe not as much as when I was younger (as a teen and in my early twenties I probably could have worked as a contortionist), but still more than most.

Legs, too.

As I first started moving from the promission style to being more of a straight-up pro-style wrestler, my flexibility made heels salivate…imagine wrestling someone who not only can bend but relishes it.

So, I jobbed a lot. Sometimes I heeled–some guys are just determined jobboys, which is fine; I love them all–but mostly, guys wanted to try moves and holds on me that they couldn’t use on most wrestlers….and I was happy to oblige.

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Yeah, I used to get stretched and lifted and battered and tied into knots pretty regularly. Going in front of the cameras at BGEast was what turned me into a heel.

I also relished that. I mean, is there anything hotter than a beaten down muscle stud who is completely at your mercy, helpless to do anything other than moan and beg for respite? A respite which only you can decide whether or not he will actually get?

I think not.

Control. Domination.

It’s fucking fun.

On the other hand, being controlled and dominated is also fun.

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Yeah, I need to get back in the ring.

Wild Heart

Hello, Mike Columbo.

Isn’t he an eyeful of masculine pulchritude?

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Mike Columbo was one of my first crushes amongst BGEast wrestlers, and looking at him, it’s not hard to see why. Those thick thighs! The arms, shoulders, perfect pecs, and abs!

And then there was the ass.

Spectacular, right? You would be hard-pressed to find an ass quite so perfectly formed and shapely. Probably one of the most magnificent of all the gluteal areas ever in action for the company, he was also handsome. His face was usually serious, especially in the ring or on the mats or wherever he pitted himself against his latest foe, but sometimes there was a ghost of a smile on his face.

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And that would bring out dimples.

Sometimes he was a brutal heel, others he was overmatched and beaten down, suffering in exquisite, delicious agony.

I always wondered how long I could hold out against his head scissors, with those magnificent thighs and that shapely muscle-ass flexing and putting on pressure.

His match with Buster Bergeron was a classic.

In fact, I think I’ll watch it again.

Head over Heels

Joe Mazetti.

Fuck me, what a stud.

And yet another example of someone whose path I never crossed in the ring during my time as an active BGEast wrestler.

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That fucking body. Those tats. The attitude.

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Dat ass.

I first discovered Joe Mazetti when I got the Fantasymen 17 tape–yes, this was back before DVD’s and I still had dial-up Internet service, which should tell you how long ago this was; I was in the early stages of discovering all BGEast had to offer in those days–and I had already become a fan of three wrestlers: Mike Columbo, Buster Bergeron, and of course, Brad Rochelle (there was only one Brad; others have come close to no avail), and I wanted to see the Buster/Columbo match–it was a mat match with them starting in singlets and stripping down to thongs, basically; two amazing asses. Brad was taking on Mikey Vee in a ring match; I soon became a fan of his, as well. Back in the day of videotape, navigation wasn’t as easy as it is on DVD’s (you kids today have it so easy! Why, back when I was a kid we had to fast forward or rewind!) and so since Columbo/Bergeron was match one, I often never made it past that match when watching and satisfying my wrestling itch. But I finally made it to the last match on the tape, which was Joe Mazetti taking on a towering hulk of muscle named Johnny Modesto.

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Nice, right? But he wore even less to the ring to fight Joe:

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Fuck  me, those legs.

Imagine having those wrapped around your head! Mmmm, thank you sir, may I have some more?

Handsome face, massive upper body, thighs for days…yeah, hot fucking stuff.

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Joe is much smaller in stature, but the body is second to no one, and his nasty attitude makes him a lot taller.

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Poor Johnny didn’t stand a chance. He did get a few shots in–but that just seemed to inspire Joe to further nastiness and brutality.

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The match was incredibly hot, and I became a big fan of Joe.

I also wanted to beat the shit out of Johnny Modesto. (to be continued)

Okay, den!

Hmmm. Kayden Keller.

As someone who was a long-time fan of BGEast before going to work for them, both in front of the cameras and behind the scenes, one of the things I’ve always found interesting is generational change of wrestling talent; the kind of thing that can be described as, for example, “waves” (as one would call it in publishing) or “ages” (comic books: Golden Age, Silver Age, etc.). I was in the same wave with Alexi Adamov and Mitch Colby and Jobe Zander and Rafe Sanchez, to merely name a few; we came after the Josh Goodman/Cole Cassidy/Kieran Dunn/Aryx Quinn/Justin Pierce wave. There is sometimes crossover between waves, and it is difficult sometimes to classify which wave of new wrestlers someone belongs to, since the videos aren’t released in order of filming and sometimes, as is the case with my own match with Mitch Colby, are held back in the vaults for years. This makes the only way to do it by release; the only people who can truly define each wave are the Boss and everyone in the office, since they know when the wrestler first worked and when the matches were taped.

I’m always interested to see the new talent; to see how they match up against the wrestlers of the past and those who are still active but have been around for awhile. I am always curious which ones will be more at home on mats or in the gazebo or in the ring; which ones look best in which kind of gear, and which ones will go how far with nudity and eroticism and so forth. I often wonder where they came from, what they do in their day to day life, what drew them to wrestling on camera for the erotic enjoyment of fans whose names and faces they will never know. (The release of my match with Powergunz recently has made me philosophize about all of this.)

I’ve not really thought much about when the most recent wave debuted, and they’ve probably been around longer than I am thinking…but included in this wave (in my mind) were Ty Alexander, Drake Marcos, Colton Haynes and numerous others…and a young heel with gorgeous eyes who took the ring name Kayden Keller.

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That is my favorite portrait shot of young Kayden; those are also my all-time favorite trunks I ever wore for the cameras myself–and I still am pissed at myself for not stealing them. Remember this?

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Kayden even has the kind of facial hair I find most attractive.

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Great smile, too. I also like that he doesn’t remove his body hair. Granted, he’s also not a yeti like I can be if I don’t at least trim on occasion, but I do like some body hair.

And that devilish smile! The twinkle in his eyes as he looks at the camera! Like he knows what he’s about to do to his foe and relishes it.

One has to love a heel who loves what he does.

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Probably the only regrets I have about BGEast and my time there was missing certain wrestlers I would have liked to have worked with because, of course, they were before my time or after.

Methinks Kayden and I would have had a great time in the ring together.

And it would have been a classic.

Oh Daddy

Powergunz.

It’s all there in the name, really. Big powerful strong arms. A sexy black pelt of fur on his torso and his legs. Thickly muscled legs.

Yeah, daddy.

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I mean, seriously. How fucking hot is he? He’s like the definition of what I call a hot daddy.

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I mean, woof.

The erotic aspects of wrestling have always been apparent to me, even as a callow youth unsure what the stirrings in his loins whenever he came across a professional wrestling broadcast actually meant; I didn’t understand the appeal of wrestling to me other than that somehow it was hard-wired into a gay sexuality that I wasn’t completely aware of–but those stirrings of lust and desire activated by seeing men like Bruno Sammartino or Mr. Olympia in the ring with their sweaty hairy muscles and high-waisted trunks as they punished their opponents and were punished in turn eventually, as puberty arrived, began to make more sense to me.

I have often been accused, throughout my adult life as an out gay man and as an out gay wrestler, of being a body fascist, of only being interested in men with lean muscular bodies. Nothing could be further than the truth, because the bears always reminded me of the professional wrestlers of my youth–and that is both sexy and arousing to me. And Powergunz has that look, you know, of the brutal heels of the 70’s–not ripped and defined, but thickly muscled and hairy and the facial hair and…you get the idea.

I’m a fan.

And I wasn’t in such bad shape myself, either, when the Boss finally scheduled the match I’d been wanting for so long.

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I like wearing white; I’ve also always thought it was kind of hot when heels wore gear in colors other than your standard heel fare. This is the only time I ever wore all white for the cameras; there was another match where I wore white squares with blue stripes on the sides–that’s the only unreleased match of mine left, I believe–but neither one of us was really in standard heel gear…which made it all the more fun, you know?

But what a fucking brute. Brute strength, animal magnetism, and the kind of charisma that makes my dick pay attention. I wanted to wrestle him, but more than anything else I wanted to feel out bodies against each other as we fought for control.

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Yeah, it’s a bit frustrating to be pinned down by someone bigger and stronger than you are, even if it’s hot.

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And I got some shots of my own in, as you can see.

What was even more fun is both of us pushed the other to extremes–kind of getting off on being slammed around or punched or forearm smashed.

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I think we both like to give and receive pain.

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Oh, yeah, it was a fucking great time.

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And there’s nothing like a bearhug from a big strong motherfucker, is there?

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That was a lot of fun, seriously.

Who’s Your Daddy

One of the things I like the most about BGEast is there’s not, really, a generic BGEast wrestler look; the Boss signs a broad spectrum of wrestlers, from the twink to the muscle boy to the muscle god to the athlete to the daddy-type. I never saw myself as a daddy-type, really; it was a surprise when my first match was released and I saw a lot of talk about me on-line about me as a ‘masked daddy.’

I just assumed it was the hairy body. There weren’t many of us at BGEast who were hairy, and the Boss always got annoyed with me whenever I showed up for a taping and had shaved my body hair off. I’ve always been hairy; I started growing body hair when I was eleven and it’s never stopped. From about age thirty-three to almost fifty at least once a month I shed my body hair, which was an enormous pain in the ass and was quite a relief when I finally stopped doing it once and for all. I still trim it down from time to time, but I can’t remember the last time I shaved my legs or torso. I was always told that the smoother you were the better and more distinct, more defined, your muscles looked; which was why bodybuilders are always hairless at competitions. I never really gave it a lot of thought. I thought smooth guys were sexy and I thought hairy guys were sexy.

Me in varying degrees of hirsuteness in past matches.

I’ve already commented on how gear, lighting and camera angles can make you look completely different in pictures taken on the same day.

Case in point:

I guess I don’t look that much different…other than the mask. But I always felt the higher on me the waistband of the trunks, the less lean I looked; it has to do with where my pelvic bones are and so forth and yes, I know I am really hard on myself.

Anyway, I always had a thing for the Brooklyn Bodywrecker; I regret to this day we never went in front of the cameras in the ring.

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Seriously, what isn’t there to like there?

I wanted to do a really nasty Dark Knights-type match with him, and let him take my mask. It never happened, but we did at least have a really hot private match.

(In an interesting aside, Bard’s blog has been doing a tournament of sorts to determine the top heel of gay-interest wrestling; yesterday was me and BBW, based on a fan vote. No surprise, I got clobbered…)

And of course, Powergunz is also one hot daddy.

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I don’t remember exactly when he landed on my radar; but I do know his match with Cole Cassidy was the first BGEast match of his I’d seen–it’s exceptional, by the way; definitely give it a look–and after that I knew I wanted to wrestle him. We’re about the same height, but his muscles were/are a lot thicker than mine (those arms!) and that chest hair…fuck me.

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I was pretty jazzed when the Boss set up a match for us. I mean, fuck me.

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And away we went… (to be continued)

Barefaced

I have to say, it’s very weird now to see pictures of myself on the BGEast page, or in the Arena, sans mask.

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Yeah, kind of a dumb expression on my face. But I have to say, modesty aside, I looked pretty damned good in white.

And yes, this is from an upcoming release. Matmen 27, to be exact, a match which Powergunz came out of semi-retirement to take me on. I’ve always had a thing for Powergunz. I think the first match of his I saw was him taking on Cole Cassidy in the ring–don’t @ me, I know he was around before that, but that was the first match of his that I actually owned and watched. He looked fucking amazing in that match, in his blue trunks.

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Hairy chested, thickly muscled, with the daddy haircut and facial hair…hell, yes, I wanted to wrestle him. I love me some muscle daddies.

And yeah, given my age and torso hair, I realize that I was a wrestling daddy for BGEast as well.

When I first started wrestling for BGEast, I was asked to list the guys I wanted to wrestle. Yes, Powergunz was on that list. And yes, it did happen. And it’s in the next catalogue.

ALthough it may have been more fun had I been masked….

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I Know What You Want to Do

There is a distinction between a jobber and a face in the world of wrestling.

There’s certainly some overlap, but jobbers rarely, if ever, win matches, and are also incapable of maintaining any offense they may generate during a match; they may not even launch an offensive against their opponent–and if they do, it generally doesn’t last long. Jobbers are there to be demolished, tortured, and beaten by an opponent who relishes dishing out pain and punishment and humiliation.

face, on the other hand, is a good looking well built stud with mad wrestling skills. He doesn’t stoop to rule breaking and/or cheating (unless provoked by the relentless rule breaking of their foe; it always plays as well-deserved and draws cheers from the crowd as payback). A face is a great wrestler who only loses due to the duplicity of their opponent; they are huge fan favorites. Probably the best example of a face is Kevin Von Erich, who was handsome and had a fantastic body.

The question, of course, is which category does my latest BGEast crush, Kirk Donahue, fall into?

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Very very good-looking, and that body!

Not to mention dat ass.

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He also has ring skills, though, so even though he seems to lose every match he’s involved in for the cameras, I would put him down as both.

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Z-Man is another one who straddles that line; he shows a lot of ability in his matches and even sometimes crossed the line into illegality–but only after being relentlessly beaten and victimized. He, too, is stunningly handsome and that body–Christ, that body.

So, I was very interested in seeing the two of them against each other in Babyface Brawl 2.

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That shot is a work of art, isn’t it?

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Kirk certainly brought out the beast I always knew was under the surface with Z-Man.

It’s a great match; Kirk even manages some offensive against the Z-Man…ring confidence is born out of success in the ring, and neither wrestler has had much along those lines over the years in the arena. Several times when Z-Man was poised to polish Kirk off for guard that killer instinct that is acquired through beatings isn’t as honed in either man as of yet.

And Kirk always suffers so beautifully.

Why is the suffering of the beautiful such a turn-on for so many of us? That is a topic for another day, I suppose.