Repeatedly, readers of this blog and I have commented on differences in taste concerning the subject of professional wrestling. My tastes constantly change; other people like exactly what they liked twenty years ago, and are pretty fastidious in their preferences, down to the color of the wrestlers' kneepads. Vive la difference! Okay? I love that about people. No two kinks exactly alike, like snowflakes. Soon enough, we'll all be the same, indistinguishable, when we're ashes and dust, to be just a little morbid.
I'm philosopher (or narcissist) enough to be fascinated by my own mind's workings. I've never felt compelled to conform to the tastes of an authority, the majority, or even a select inner circle ... as regards wrestling, or, really, anything. Friends have left imprints on my tastes, but even then what I take home will swerve somewhat off the course of my friends' tastes. Basically, pro wrestling works for me when it involves two strapping men grappling, two men who know what they're doing in the ring.
That last point is the most important for me. Both wrestlers, whether they win or lose, suffer or cause another to suffer, should be masters of the art and sport of pro wrestling--moves, holds, swagger, selling, timing. Beyond being good at wrestling, the rest is icing. Still, I do love icing. I like wrestlers to be strapping, strong, and sexy, of course, but it's not essential that they be these things. To my surprise, often, they don't even have to be men.
So, yes, I like muscles, a fetching face, and nine-inch cock as much as anyone, as evident elsewhere in this blog, and I am reasonably satisfied if hot and handsome contestants just bounce against each other for a little while and then collapse on top of each other. But let's not call that wrestling. Let's call that process wrestling, similar to process cheese.
More particularly, I like singles events. I like two equally matched men with distinct and dramatically contrasting principles. It need not be heel and jobber--two heels can fight each other, or two technically proficient babyfaces. More particularly still, I like lots of corner punching and mat grappling. I like sweat and grunts and moans. I like a firm but slightly protuberant stomach above a pronounced iliac furrow. I like thick thighs and broad, heavy shoulders. I like bubble butts that tilt upwards. I like tight, prolonged clenches. I like chokes. I like sudden and tidy finishers. I like pins. Submissions and knockouts are fine, too, but all the better for me if they're combined with pins.
I don't like wrestlers who undersell or oversell their opponents' moves. I don't like disqualifications. I don't like weapons or foreign objects, unless a weapon leads to a tussle in which one wrestler successfully disarms his opponent before the weapon can be used. I don't like too many people in the ring at once or hovering around its periphery. I don't like blood. I don't like gear that has tassels hanging from it. I don't like microphone rants or, in general, a lot of talking. I can tolerate these things, but only if there's plenty of the good stuff I like to offset them.
An example of my idea of a good match is Pepper Parks versus Andrew Davis in Neo Wrestling Federation's June 19th show (check the match out here). Both wrestlers look good, in gear that complements their physiques. They are strikingly different in their attitudes. They know how to sell moves and put on a good wrestling show. There's some flying off the ropes. Some outside interference, too. But these things don't overwhelm the tight, closeup grappling and corner punching. The bout ends decisively with a pinfall. I could ask for more, certainly. But this fight is a classic, a one-stop destination for all the staples on my shopping list.