canwrestle's blog

Since I can't wrestle, I'll write about it... This is a true story.
I am not sure when I realized I loved to wrestle. It was either watching pro wrestling on TV, pretending to hate it but covering my boner with a blanket or it was the repeated checking out of the wrestling illustrations in the wr to zz volume of the encyclopedias in the school library. Whenever it was I knew at 13 that nothing got me harder than watching 2 hot guys locking up and fighting for dominance.
My family moved to the country when I was 13, it wasn’t far outside the city but it was a big house on a country lane with only a few houses around us and lots of wooded areas in-between. That first summer I thought I was Tom Sawyer exploring the woods around the new place. I first met Chris, who was to become one of my best friends, during one of my treks. He was having a dispute with two other boys, brothers who lived not far. They were all on bikes and there was a lot of name calling and yelling going on. I watched for a bit until one of the boys, came over and asked who I was. He warned me to stay away from Chris, the kid he and his brother were yelling at, that he was an asshole who had bullied the younger one and they were going to get him. He made sure to let me know that if I didn’t side with them I would be considered an enemy as well. My personality has always been that if you tell me not to do something I am more than likely going to, I have also always been partial to the underdog SO not liking the implied threat and seeing the situation as 2 on 1 I immediately sided with the other kid in the standoff and joined in the name calling and threatening on Chris’ side. Seeing the odds even up the brothers retreated and tore off on their bikes threatening dire consequences for us both. Chris and I became fast friends from that moment on. It turned out we were the same age and he lived only a few lots down the road from me. Every day I headed over to his place and the two of us would go exploring. I now had a Huck Finn to accompany me on my expeditions into the woods. We also started having regular sleep overs. It was during one such night that I brought up the subject of wrestling. I had wanted to wrestle with Chris for a while; we were the same height and weight, both skinny and blond. All arms and legs with just the beginnings of hair on our legs and I thought he was pretty handsome. I imagined us wrestling together all the time but so far I hadn’t had the opportunity to start something. We were in his bed together laughing and telling stupid jokes, his Dad had already been in once to tell us to knock it off and go to sleep so we were whispering and I finally got up the courage to bring up wrestling. I asked him if he liked it, he said he did but it was obvious he did not have the passion for it that I did and after a few attempts to get him talking about who is favorite wrestlers were and what holds he knew I let the subject drop, disappointed but not wanting to seem weird. I knew instinctively that it wasn’t just a sport or entertainment for me and that if I pushed it too much he would think I was queer. Which of course I was but I couldn’t let anyone else know that.
At the back of Chris’s yard there was an old shed that had once been a chicken coop or something of the sort but was now empty. Part way through that summer we convinced his parents to let us take it over as our clubhouse. We spent days working on it, we decorated the walls with posters of Loni Anderson in a red bathing suit, Farrah Fawcet, sports cars and Star Wars. We made a sign for the door exclaiming that only the two of us were allowed inside (this was mostly for his little sisters benefit). We scrounged up wood were we could and built a giant bed inside. Really it was just a piece of plywood raised off the floor of the shed but we covered it with old mattress, blankets and comforters and made plans to sleep out there as often as we could. We finally finished our “renovations” one particularly hot afternoon and we put our hammers down and stretched out on our bed, proud of our handiwork and eager to test it out. We were both wearing sneakers and socks, those super short adidas shorts and tank tops, we were already super sweaty as our clubhouse did not come with ventilation, a stupid joke lead to one of us hitting the other with one of the old pillows we had scrounged up, this lead to retaliation and pretty quickly we were both up wailing away on each other with our padded weapons. It turned out that our giant bed was actually a perfect wrestling area. All the mattress and blankets made it soft and it basically took up the entire space of the shed reaching all four walls. I seized the opportunity, tossed my pillow aside and went after him. He followed suit, both of us grinning and laughing as we locked up and took each other down. We rolled around fighting for dominance, not trying to hurt one another but definitely trying to prove who was stronger as boys are inclined to do. We were so evenly matched no one was able to secure a top position. We broke apart slick with sweat and i pulled my tank top off. “Good Idea” Chris yelled as he took his shirt off as well. Somehow getting down to bare chest made it more serious and we circled, staring each other down ready to wrestle. I don’t remember the details of the fight, I do remember at one point getting above him, my chest on his back, my arms wrapped around his torso, thinking to myself I had him but then feeling my legs lift off the ground as he stood up taking me with him, flipping me over and down onto the bed. I don’t know how long we wrestled but I know it felt like heaven and I didn’t want it to stop. We wrestled or play fought a lot from then on, honestly usually initiated by me. I even managed to convince him to let me try out on him the moves pictured in the encyclopedia I was forever looking at. We remained best friends all through High School but unfortunately the wrestling stopped sometime after that. Eventually Chris and I would come out to each other but he was not interested in wrestling and so as our teens progressed he stopped allowing me to initiate our play fights. He was interested in other things though so we at least had that. I still dream of our first wrestling match in the steaming hot chicken coup though, in our shorty shorts… our adolescent muscles straining as we grappled and rolled; Tied up in duel headlocks, grunting and snarling through gritted teeth for the other one to give up. Laughing as he reversed me and sent me crashing to the bed. It is definitely one of my favorite childhood memories and even thinking about it now gets me hard.