Jason Adonis, 6'2", 240#, is a full-time porn star and part-time wrestler. His wrestling skills are pretty much limited to wrestling as erotic foreplay--notably in Can-Am's Mat Attack I (2003), in which he battles blond firecracker Marc Stone to emission (as seen below), and two of its sequels (3 and 4). Handsomely (even prettily) built as a man, with the solid thighs and broad shoulders I find ideal in wrestlers, along with pecs and abs worthy of the name "Adonis," JA does not embarrass himself as a grappler, and perhaps this point should be surprising. The man's background in the sport, if any, is unknown to me. But, whether by willing suspension of disbelief or, less likely, an astute appreciation of the man's skills, unblinded by his blinding good looks, I am impressed with his moves--and with his success in selling his and his opponent's holds (though the success is modest by most professional standards). He takes a smirking pleasure in twisting Stone into knots, and when Stone gets on top of him, Adonis looks entertainingly tormented.
He is thickly and sturdily built, but his unblemished youthfulness and the Ken-doll smoothness of his tan do not suggest "ruggedness" (for me, anyway). In fact, his hypnotizing beauty suggests a kind of slack, ethereal idealism that runs counter to the physical, earthy intensity I like in wrestlers. This is not a serious drawback. We should all be so lucky to have this guy's good looks. And as a defect (pretty enviable as defects go), it might be remedied with more combat training--at the hands of a Brooklyn Bodywrecker or, say, in another vein entirely, Big Sexy--and more arrogance, more boldness, more sneering bellicosity, more hard rage.
I'm puzzled why I would be less put off by Adonis's plastic perfection than by Zack Johnathan's or Rio Garza's. It's not fair that I accept the one and not others just like it. But such are the mysteries (and injustices) of sexual attraction. If my desires obeyed the rules, all the rules, I would be with a woman today--a pleasant, plump, matronly woman even. As I have said elsewhere, I can see (objectively) the appeal of Johnathan and Garza--would most likely sense it more strongly if I met either of them in the flesh--and I definitely have nothing against either man. Just an unfortunate inability to be turned on by them. Yet. My loss, not theirs. I could more easily pass that prejudice off as owing to disinterest in boyish prettiness if only I were not drawn to other boyishly "cute" men like Adonis (and Mark Lander and Troy Baker and Alexi Adamov). And I get a tingle at the idea of stepping into a ring with Adonis that I do not get in imagining myself facing off against other pretty boys.
There's probably an expression in French for this incongruity. The French are supposed to be masters at diagnosing the inconsistencies of human affection. But the phrase is one I don't know--and it may not exist. The best I can come up with is Pascal's "The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of." (But he's talking about God, while I'm talking about cock.)