Friday, May 31, 2013

The KISS Part 1: Beginnings

I've probably spent much more time (a month) thinking and crafting what would be the inaugural BlogSpot post. The thinking in this was that I wanted to set myself apart from all of the other homoerotic wrestlers who have a presence on the net; I didn't want my first post to be about my foray into the world of homoerotic wrestling. I wanted it to be different. More interesting. More insightful. Somewhat more exciting.

Because I am.

That type of thinking, though, is my modus operandi, and what most people would call procrastination. Had I continued the "brainstorming", I would have put it off to a point where I would have inevitably ended up not doing it at all. And what would I have done in the meantime? Exactly...

Needless to say, Drake needs an outlet and with his trips to the wrestling mats of BG Land not being as frequent as he needs, he decided to make a deal with me.

This deal happened over an incredibly unhealthy dinner of boneless buffalo wings (that was a pain to eat for Drake who shares this body). As I lifted the final bite to my mouth and thought about the upcoming weekend and the plans involved (as well as what movie I would start on Netflix before retiring to bed) Drake spoke up.

"You're going to finish this diet killing meal and you're going to put on SCRE4M. However, since you've seen the movie 20 times over, you're going to let me write the blog while you entertain yourself."

Realizing that there was nothing really pressing to prevent this from happening, I acquiesced.

What I've learned over the past year and a half is, while Drake is often a bad influence, I undoubtedly end up enjoying when I succumb to his ideas and come out all the better for it. Which brings us to the topic of discussion tonight.

Although I wanted things to be different, I decided that I should just do the first post following the philosophy of what my friends and I are fond of saying; our little mnemonic device of KISS: Keep It Simple, Stupid. And while we're not going to do EXACTLY what the other wrestlers did (fuck it, neither Drake nor myself would let that happen) we would stoop so low as to say they inspired this post...somewhat. So, I'm going to let him take the reins from my rather lengthy introduction and give you the story of his genesis. God help us.
-D2

While the essence of my personhood has been gestating for a long time, I was an entity whose attitudes and tendencies were denied for many years because D wasn't ready to accept my reality. But I found an opening to gain a foothold in this world through something that both of us enjoyed: wrestling.

It started the way it normally starts for a lot of us who end up developing an erotic fixation on the world's oldest sporting event. On Monday and Thursday nights you settle down in front of the television (often with your father or friends in the early years. Then, in the teen to later years, by yourself because it becomes uncomfortable with the hard lump in your pants that you try to keep discreet) your finger on the "previous channel" button. When WWE (then WWF) were to go to commercial, or just get boring (like the female or midget wrestling matches) you would switch over to WCW.

It probably started out because it was the perfect "boy" thing to watch. Two guys hammering the hell out of each other, fighting to prove who the best was. To our young and impressionable minds, we were all too eager to act it out with our friends. On the playground we would strip off our shirts and put on the personas of our favorite wrestlers, staging wrestling matches in backyards, our imaginations providing the adoring crowds and the muscles we wanted to have. All under the curious and watchful eyes of neighborhood mothers, washing dishes in the kitchen sinks as they watched us through the window to the backyard, a cordless phone near at hand to call 911 in case one of us kicked the other a little too hard, or one of us tried an elbow drop from the platform of the treehouse, our youth and fertile imaginations giving us a feeling of invincibility. It comes with the territory. Boys will be boys. Yada yada...

I say all this so vividly because, with so many people I've talked with who share this "obsession" (if you will) remember it much the same way. I say it, also, because I count it amongst my earliest memories, although I operated under different names back then.

As he grew and aged, so did I, but at a more stunted rate. I would try to assert myself, as time went on often coming up short. Wrestling was put on the backburner as WWE's famed "Attitude Era" faded into a more PG and less-talented shell. I was reserved for late night sessions spent on the Internet, in Yahoo! Messenger, cyber wrestling with others (including, but not limited to, the incomparable Kid Leopard) who shared the feelings and attractions. Also looking up pictures of Das Wunderkid Alex Wright and other wrestling superstars engaged in battle.

I was hidden, a dirty secret, targeted for extermination. Despite this, Kid Leopard and I cybered, chatted about all things, and he casually extended multiple invitations to come out to watch a BGEast taping, or maybe training to become a BGEast wrestler myself one day.

At this time I was known as "Zeke."

Enough seeds had been sown, all that was left was to wait for the reaping season...

~Drake Marcos

...to be continued in The KISS Part 2: The New England Factor