Muscle Memory

Lewy vs Ben, BVLC1 - WatchFighters  (FFE)

This takes me back. Sorry about the memory-lane stuff: it can't be helped. This match reminds me of my early 20s, though a more polished version. A confined space, locked door, padded floor (striped camp mattresses, as best I remember), underwear, a half-hour of friendly but heated tussling. The dorm had empty rooms, but no mat room. 

Like it was yesterday, I remember the rough reversals, crotch pressed against crotch, the heavy breathing, all that was pure joy for me as a young man. There was never any question but that my athletic friends would be victorious. I loved it for the body contact, the struggle, the rapport. 

I didn't think I was gay. (One wrestle-pal told me he could feel me getting hard. He quickly explained that sort of thing didn't mean anything; it was normal. My feelings and hetero identity were spared, for the time being.)

This private UK match is not new, but it's not as old as the aforementioned memories. Lewy is not yet the hulk he will become, but he is already heavily tattooed. He's bigger than Ben, but really the two are not that different in build and heft. The contest is private and intimate. No scorecards are needed. This is for fun. 

The match is friendly, but earnest. I love the takedowns. I love the confined space - a preference I don't expect everybody to share, but a seething hot memory for me, which is why I have always loved UCW's old cinderblock garage, BGE's Wrestleshack, MuscleBoy's orange and black den, and this unprepossessing chamber somewhere in the UK.

The pretend agony is fun. The manly grunts and groans provide a soundtrack and boost the struggle. Ah, the memories.

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