Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Zack Johnathan, aka Z-Man, 5'10", 175#, is something of an anomaly in the world of kink wrestling. He does not, for instance, touch on any of the darker colors of erotic combat, such as sadism or the urge to subjugate and dominate. Even his arrogance comes across as genial, not nasty. In demeanor, then, he does not fit neatly into existing categories of heel and babyface, but comes off, even in the midst of a brawl, kind of like a zesty aerobics instructor.
Still, he could be a ZAI-ILF.
Physically he reminds me of two guys I knew in my twenties, both of them into recreational wrestling, coincidentally. One was a northern Italian jock, 6'2", with the most perfect physique I ever had the privilege to tangle and sleep with. The other was a guy, Hollywood beautiful, at a Christian college I attended for 15 months, who once, outside in the cool night air (ah, I remember it well), after I told him how "perfect and untouchable" I thought he looked, said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "I can tell you want to fight me, Joe. Okay, take a swing at me." What followed was less a fight than slow-motion choreography. And it was memorable and fun, even though it was a one shot deal and even though nothing much happened.
Like these two guys, Zack has the porcelain complexion and mannequin poise of an overindulged rich kid--the first in high school to get a car (and a brand new one), the guy who was class president and homecoming king. The guy you probably wanted to date, but couldn't ... more to the point, the guy you probably wanted to hate, but couldn't.
That's probably Zack's only flaw--you want to hate the guy, but you can't do it. He doesn't touch that raw nerve the way other sexy jobbers sometimes do, yet he doesn't exactly seem like the kind of guy you can identify with or imagine being either--he's too far removed from guys like me with pores and body fat.
And in a fight, even apparently in this one against tattooed and sexy-as-hell newcomer PitBull, 5'5", 172#, at Thunder's Arena, he seems to float above the fray, almost as if his perfect body had been superimposed, sweatless, hair unmussed, into it via Photoshop.
Johnathan is dewy, dreamy perfection. Stretched out here, he looks like a rich and whipped-up dessert. He's the reason we have the phrase "eye candy."