A couple of weeks ago I invited several wrestling bloggers and regular neverland readers to author contributions to a summer series on the topic of “diverse tastes.” Readers frequently write to let me know how their opinions, tastes and turn-ons differ in small and big ways from how I describe my own wrestling kinks here on the pages of this blog. My hope is that bringing together a chorus of voices from homoerotic wrestling fans will help celebrate our diverse tastes.
Kicking off this series, my friend and colleague Joe at Ringside at Skull Island pens the following fantastic insight into not only what turns him on, but his reflections on from where homoerotic wrestling tastes may emerge and how his tastes have evolved. I’ve added the pics and captions, but the rest of the text is 100% Joe’s brilliance. Thanks, Joe! ~Bard
A bit of trivia. The first celebrity to give me wood was Mighty Mouse. Yeah, the cartoon character. I was maybe eight years old. Weird, huh?
Bard asked me to write on the topic of diverse tastes partly because (I think) we both blog, and through these blogs we came to know each other and, early on, recognize that we have some mutual tastes, tastes we had once thought were ours all alone. As bloggers, too, we get comments from readers who, like us, are intrigued that others share what they assumed were one-of-a-kind kinks. These points of mutuality are fun to discover, especially if in the past we were led to feel weird because of them.
But we also hear from readers who point out differences in taste, which are amusing but not surprising. For instance, Bard has a taste for television anchormen that I do not get. Bard and I acknowledge such differences and move on. But occasionally, rarely, we are called to task because of our tastes. We are told that we must like what we like because we are not right. Because our tastes are wrong.
Responders to my wrestling blog have accused me of being prejudiced towards beautiful young men … and prejudiced against them. I can’t explain why different readers perceive my tastes so differently. I am strongly in favor of beautiful young men. Not to be strikes me as phony-baloney smugness. You might as well say you are against fresh, flavorful fruit.
Of course, individual tastes differ. It took me a while to recognize and develop my tastes. My opinion is that all my tastes were acquired through experience, although I was probably born with certain propensities. Years and maturity brought me closer to myself, away from received opinion and peer pressure and the influence of advertising.
What I resent is somebody trying to make me feel guilty about what attracts me. It’s not as if I choose what makes my cock stiff. If I am mainly attracted to men, am I a sexist? If I am mainly attracted to men of European descent, am I a racist? If I am attracted to young men, am I an ageist? If I am attracted to men who behave in traditionally masculine ways, am I a self-loathing homophobe? I don’t think so. Not necessarily, anyway. Sexism, racism, ageism, and homophobia are about treating people differently because of their outward appearance or natural propensities. Sexual attraction is a part of who I am, as an individual. It says more about me than about those to whom I’m attracted. It is not about bigotry or treating other people as anything less than free and equal individuals.
If I were attracted to the kind of person I am “supposed” to be attracted to, I’d be into middle-aged white women, exclusively. Sure, you might say that my tastes are superficial, narrow, and unimaginative, even self-destructive, and I might even agree to a certain extent. How much better and easier my world would be if I were attracted to (and attractive to) all kinds of people, not just a select few. With different tastes, I might even like Brussels sprouts and chicken livers, but for the life of me I cannot even guess why it would be anyone else’s business what I do or do not like.
Where did my tastes come from? Early childhood experience seems a plausible explanation. Why do my tastes change over time? They do change, fairly frequently. I guess they change because I acquire new experiences. I had a boyfriend for several years who was not at all what I had previously thought “my type” was. How I became attracted to him is an utter mystery. But he broke the mold and changed my type from that point on.
I like, and have always liked, tall men more than short, though short can be fun too. Dark more than fair, though fair is what I’m in the mood for sometimes. (I’m fickle.) Irish, Jewish, Italian, yes. I like strong backs, strong shoulders, strong limbs. Six-pack abs do little for me anymore, if they ever did. I even prefer a firm convex belly, just not too convex and not too soft. Adam’s apples delight me. I like hairy chests. I like big noses and small ears. I’m not particular about penis size, but let’s say no shorter than my thumb and no longer than my foot. I like arrogance, but I prefer strong, silent types. I am turned off by fussiness, pretentiousness, and anal retentiveness. I like men I can laugh with. Bright but not necessarily intellectual men. I hate whiners. I hate yes men. I hate men dressed for success. I like men who are at ease in their bodies, whatever those bodies look like. The acid test is whether a man will strip to naked without apologies. The acid test is whether he wrestles.