Smitten












Alex Costa vs Nick Milani, Catalog 18 - Balls to the Wall (MuscleBoy Wrestling)

I know it's not p.c. to say this, and I know my feelings are perverse, and I know Valentine's Day is still weeks away, but for me love has always been a violation of one kind or another. I don't mean rape. I mean that love is a leap across boundaries that after much toying and struggling leaves not one but both (or all three, etc.) parties smitten. Love is an act of conquest. Love is not "nice" at all. Love is a punch to the heart.

And long live love!

Nobody portrays the savage side of m/m desire more sumptuously than MuscleBoy. To my mind, wrestling is the effigy of any sexual act - which inevitably involves penetration, dominance, and relishable pain, all consummated in a graceful moment of ecstasy. The new catalog, which I have only just begun to peek into, seems dedicated to the overwhelming bombardment of the ego, which we genteelly call "falling in love" or "love-struck."

Inevitably somebody has to risk reaching under the table to lock fingers with the object of one's affection.  Inevitably somebody has to say "let's" when the other party protests "but what about the risk?" Any love that can be reduced to a signed contract is not love I can recognize as love. The sexual tension between Alex Costa and beautiful newcomer Nick Milani is probably a performance, but it embodies every true thing I believe about love.

The first third of this video portrays what anyone would recognize as combat sport. The final two-thirds is highly sexed variations on the sport of wrestling, and like "Cupid's arrow" or "star-crossed lovers" or "love-sickness" illustrates the non-Brach's notion of amorous rapture. Costa is mostly in control, but Milani repeatedly encourages him to take the conquest further, deeper, harder. To love, as I see it, is to take a hard bump.


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