Joey Marx versus Ashton Vuitton, UnderGround Wrestling, Addison, Illinois, 6 June 2009. Three years ago Ashton had half the shoulders and thighs he has today, but he was still pretty in his male model way, and strong and devious, too. Joey, 5'8", was the butch boy next door, basically a good kid constitutionally unable to back down from a fight. Ashton, 6'2", puts him through the mill, but in the end Joey's toughness is enough to withstand Ashton's assaults and kick the perfumey crap out of him.
Ideally I'd like to live beyond gender somehow, be more androgynous and bisexual like Bowie, but even when young and prettier than I am now, I was sturdily and coarsely built, Germanic peasant stock: small gray eyes, thick calves, and broad chest. There was nothing feminine or suave about me, except apparently my voice (on the phone I was called "ma'am" a half dozen times before I hit age forty--the gay accent gave me away more than anything else, I suppose). Anyway, I like male prettiness, but never arrived there personally. I was not exactly butch either, too intellectual, aesthetic, and reserved, though I would pick butch over pretty anytime--for myself, for my friends, for the wrestlers I watch. I have always been attracted to butch: soldiers, fighters, "extreme" athletes, stuntmen, and cowboys, which taste always kept me on the margins of gay culture. (I even like butchness in girls, so historically I've had more close lesbian friends than gay male friends.) Tough and pretty, now that would be the ticket, definitely.