1 The Psychology and Rewards of Mixed Wrestling



By William Frank_butler07@hotmail.com

He wanted to know why I let women kick my butt in front of an audience?

During a recent mixed wrestling night at a local club here in NYC, a 30
year-old guy approached me after I'd lost a match against a particularly
ferocious young African-American woman. He wanted to know why I did this, let
women kick my butt in front of an audience? Wasn't I embarrassed? Humiliated?
How could I do this?

As he talked, he grew increasingly agitated, even hostile. Clearly, it wasn't
so much that men and women were competing in wrestling that got under his
skin. No, it was that men were LOSING to women that was touching something
very deep in this man.

And losing we were, the men. I had four matches against four different Black
women that night, won one and lost three. For the entire night, the women won
18 out of 25 matches. And on the surface, the audience loved it, cheering and
yelling and hooting and applauding every time a woman gained a submission.

And yet ... and yet ...

That man's agitation and hostility struck a chord within me. The plain truth
is that at one time, a long time ago, I was no different than he.

Even though I have been fascinated with, and very attracted to, women of
physical strength and prowess since I was in high school, it was many years
later before I ever permitted myself to act on this. I would secretly
fantasize about the muscular female, about her strength, her confidence, her
aura of utter indomitability.

However, this was outside the norm, something which "society" deemed strange,
unnatural. Thus, it all remained a secret. Buried deep, but not forgotten.

Both genders suffer tremendously because of the strictures placed upon what is
and is not acceptable behavior. Women are emotionally and psychogenically
scarred from being told not to have muscles, not to show off physical skills,
not to upstage the male in the arena. Men are equally scarred, because those
of us who admire that very female who is muscular, who parades her physical
skills, who upstages the male in the arena -- we too suffer emotionally and
psychogenically.

And take my word for it, there are far more men like myself than anyone
realizes, than ever seems to show up on psychological tests of what men want
in a woman. And I'm not some guy hiding in a one room apartment, or a "wimp."
I was a jock in school, am still a big sports fan, the Knicks and Yankees and
Mets, etc. I watch sports at a bar, the whole nine yards.

When I say that far more men than anyone realizes admire the woman of
impressive physical stature and accomplishment, I'm talking about guys like
myself. We're out there and we're everywhere.

And yet ... and yet ...

I was thirty years old and married before I acted on my feelings. Secretly, of
course. While on business out in LA, I went to a wrestling parlor. For $30.00,
you got to wrestle a girl for half-an-hour. Looking back, more than twenty
years later, I cannot remember why I suddenly decided to do this. I wasn't
drunk, I didn't do it on a dare. All I can remember is the thrill of rolling
around on the mat with this young Black woman, who astonished (and thrilled!)
me by pinning me over and over.

It was a watershed moment. Three days later, the very day I was flying back to
NYC, I went back and wrestled this woman again. And lost and loved it. Back in
NYC, I scoured back pages of weeklies, looking for something similar. I found
an ad for someone named Deena Zarra.

Deena Zarra is a legend in the mixed wrestling area. She even fought Andy
Kaufman at Carnegie Hall, kept pinning him, until the referee would step in
and rule that Deena had done something illegal. So much for Andy Kaufman never
having lost to a woman!

I started wrestling Deena once a month, getting my ass battered something
fierce. Deena is 6'3", and at the time weighed 180 lbs. It was glorious ...
and all very, very hush-hush. Until one day, a few years later, Deena told me
she was having a live wrestling show at a local theatre in the East Village.
Would I like to participate?

You mean wrestle a woman in front of an audience? In front of others? That is
exactly what Deena meant. I demurred, saying I couldn't handle that, losing to
a woman in front of others. What would I look like, a damned fool. Men don't
lose to women in a fight (publicly, that is).

However, as the weeks went by, I started to explore my feelings. On the one
hand, I was enamored of the physically superior woman. Especially the Black
physically superior woman! Indeed, I took an erotic delight in her physical
supremacy (which is why I gravitated inevitably into becoming a slave to the
Black women; so much so that I am now open and public about serving Black
women. But that's another story.). So why was I embarrassed at the idea that
someone would see me losing to the woman? If I truly admired her, why was I
ashamed?

Why, indeed!

Because society told me I should be. Admiring the physically superior female,
taking erotic delight in being overwhelmed by this same female, meant falling
outside the range of "normal". The more I considered things, the more I
thought about how ridiculous it was to let so-called society tell me what I
should and should not feel. Life is too short to let yourself be strapped down
by rules which serve no purpose whatsoever.

So, with a great deal of trepidation, I told Deena I'd take part. That whole
day, I was a basket case. I waffled back and forth, I was sure I couldn't do
it, that I had to call in sick, whatever. But I showed up backstage, where I
was literally shaking, my teeth chattering. I met some of the women and a few
of the guys.

I peeked through the curtains, there were more than 300 people in the
audience. I checked the ring up on the stage. And I was ready to run out the
door.

All I recall about that night isthat each of my adversaries was Black. I can't
remember a single thing from my first match, other than that I was shaking as
if someone had poured an ice bucket over me. I don't even remember how the
match went. The second match isn't much clearer, though I wasn't shaking so
much. The third match, I know that I won, but couldn't tell you a single thing
about it.

It was the night that I realized how draining it was to deny my feelings about
the physically superior female. It was the night that I admitted to myself
that I did not feel humiliated by losing to a woman; rather, I was proud to be
associated with this woman. Proud to let others see the exquisite beauty of an
athletic and muscular woman as she showcased her physical prowess.

Many years and many matches have come and gone since. And I am ever-more open
about these things. It was Deena Zarra who got me to do my first photo set
match. A young protégé of Deena's, Anne-Marie, was interested in showcasing
herself through Deena's web site. Deena asked me to permit photos to be taken
of our match. This was a first, but I agreed. It was a very one-sided match,
as Anne-Marie was stronger, a better wrestler, and in far better condition.
And the photos bore this out.

But it was one more step in my growth. I've now done several photo set
matches, the pics spread all over the web for anyone to see. And I don't feel
a single ounce of regret.

I would have thought that things have changed for the young, that it would be
just fine for a young guy to openly admire the muscular female, to have no
problem with facing off on the mat against this woman ... and losing in front
of others. But the hostility from the young guy last fall has me wondering.

I hope he took what I told him seriously. I told him that I was once exactly
like he, and that if he's smart, he'll come out of "the closet" and admit his
feelings to himself.

Life is too short to deny yourself something which, frankly, I have come to
believe is ... the "norm" between men and women.