Vinny vs Logan Vaughn, Mat Rats 79 (Thunder's Arena)
Intimidation plays a role in my erotic response to wrestling, the verbal kind to some extent (when Eli Black used to threaten me with bodily harm, I got wood, I'll admit it), but live encounters with hard-muscled men who are taller and heavier than I am, even (often especially) when not a word is spoken, shake me with a mix of fear of injury and desire for the physical contact such a beating would entail. It's a response I've had since childhood. The precise sensation most closely resembles my fear of heights, which is dominated by the irrational urge to leap, as any acrophobe can tell you.
Vinny towers over Logan, who is in no sense petite. Vinny's sheer mass predicts his opponent's fate (correctly, it so happens: Logan hasn't a prayer). The strongman has, let's say, unfriendly intentions, too, which his surly attitude makes abundantly clear. Take, for instance, the way he greets Logan: "What's up there, little bitch? What you doing?" When Logan dares to touch the man's shoulders uninvited, Vinny snaps at him, strikes another pose, and then contemptuously grants permission. Popping biceps big as a pitbull's head, he speaks like he's addressing an unruly child, "See that shit? He's angry. Got that?" He berates Logan for being out of shape. Then he asks whether Logan thinks he can beat him in a fight. Sensibly, Logan says no, he doesn't. Apparently, Logan has no illusions about the outcome of this match, and, while not noticeably intimidated, he, like me, almost welcomes it.