Despite the facts that I have this strange obsession with wrestling and that this seems--from time to time, at least--to suggest my having a different sexuality than any that would be strictly or loosely called "normal," I'm a relatively regular 48-year-old man. I have family--immediate and extended. I have an extensive but not a fancy education. I have a career I love and in which I struggle to go through the normal steps of progressing "up the ladder." I generally like people, and they seem, generally, to like me.

This week I'm losing a friend. Actually, I think I lost him a long time ago, but this week he's moving away. Having lost him before really losing him doesn't mean, however, that we've not been friendly. We have. It's just that the depth of friendship we might have had never developed, and when it didn't, it stopped growing and progressing altogether. So, we've been friends but more of the acquaintance side of this reality than on the intimate side.

Sure, I always wanted to wrestle him. He's thick and strong--at least 275 pounds, I'd say--and his coloring is such that he'd look beautiful in a pair of red wrestling trunks. And it's true that I've met few men in my life that I just feel like pouncing on and holding (wrestling or otherwise). I've always suspected that he would be interested in me this way too, if certain restrictions and taboos were done away with.

That aside, I always thought that we were kindred in a lot of other ways. We have similar educational experiences in our fields. We have philosophical and spiritual similarities. We have families.

Not long after we met, we spent a year having lunch together almost every Wednesday. These lunches ran long, as we ate (something we both love to do) and talked about this and that and everything else. (We even talked about wrestling on more than one occasion.) I had him on my calendar for infinity, and I thought he had me on his.

But then the lunches stopped. He couldn't make it one week. He couldn't make it the next week. Gradually I came to the realization that he couldn't--wouldn't--have lunch with me again. I took him off my calendar and told him, jokingly, that I was doing so. He said, jokingly, that he didn't want to "break up." But the lunches never resumed on a regular basis, and now, although we've seen each other at least once a week, it's been well over a year since we at lunch together and really talked.

He and his wife blame his background. As a child, he lived in a situation in which he moved ever three or four years and never formed deep friendships. Maybe that's the case. And yet he can talk a good game of friendship and make a good sermon about loving and caring for one another. So, I've never trusted this explanation.

But without accepting that that is the case, how am I to explain why "[w]e keep the wall between us as we go"? I have wanted to blame his wife, to believe that she was jealous of our friendship. Even though she and I have a friendship of our own, I don't completely discount the possibility of her being behind all this. I have wanted not to believe that he simply went far enough with me to discover that he didn't really like me or that he didn't really want to spend any more time with me. But without an explanation as to why everything stopped--more or less--what else am I to believe?

So, he's loading the truck today. I offered my help, but he never responded. Maybe he has professional help, maybe not. I'll see him one last time tomorrow, and then I expect that to be it unless, as he's not moving that far away, we meet by chance at some place or other. He says we'll keep in touch, say a lot of good places for lunch are along the way between where I live and where he's going. Past experience and my need to protect myself emotionally won't allow me to believe him.

I try to rationalize all this by telling myself that married adults, men who have wives and children, can't have the kinds of friendships we did when we were young or when we were not so young but still unmarried. Maybe that's the case. But it seems to me that I see friendships like this might have been--friendships between men in full-blown adulthood--among others with whom I'm acquainted. So that rationalization provides little comfort. And so ultimately, I think, the failure of this friendship to become what it might have been lies with the two of us as individuals. Maybe both didn't want it to an equal degree. Maybe neither was capable to an equal degree. We've come to lump-in-the-throat time--for the past we've had, for the past we didn't have, for the future we might have had, for the future we won't have.

Who was it who said--is it somewhere in Lewis Carroll?--something to the effect that it's a poor memory that works only backwards?

So, goodbye. Goodbye, friend.

In the latter part of summer 1996, I began to make plans for my second, third and fourth wrestling experiences. Seven months had passed since my first experience with D. I'd continued an online friendship with Luke--a lot of chat along with a good bit of cyberwrestling with him. Through various online experiences, I was beginning to define what I was into and not into and learning to spot the real folks and the fakes on AOL.

About this time I met B, my first "local" contact, who lived in a town just a short drive from me. We arranged to meet at Applebee's one afternoon when my family was out of town for a few days. As we ate lunch together, he unfolded the kind of story that I'd suspected was out there.

B was in his 50s at the time, but he looked younger. He stood around 5'11" and weighed maybe in the 220s or 230s. Just right! He'd been working out with weights for some time and had a powerful body. He was into wrestling, but his interests tended to be toward finishing holds such as the figure-4 leglock. He was also training in one of the martial arts to get more knowledge of working over pressure points and such. If I'm remembering rightly, he won some kind of tournament in Atlanta within a year or two after we met.

B had been married to a woman not too long before this, and he and she had a couple of children together. And during that life he'd been a preacher. His pulpit had been in a Baptist church or in some other Southern evangelical denomination. And from that pulpit, he said, he had preached many a sermon against homosexuality. But as it often seems to happen in relation to such homophobic behavior, he discovered or accepted--through wrestling or some other means--that he was, in fact, a homosexual.

When I knew B during that brief period in 1996, he'd left his family (or they'd left him), but I'm not sure how much time had passed since this event. He did, I think, have some kind of relationship with his children--or was trying to reestablish one. And he was experiencing a relationship with another man, although I don't remember if it was his first or how committed it was at that time.

After he told me the story over lunch, we went back to my house to wrestle a bit. I'd fixed up a place near the downstairs hearth, but it wasn't much good. The space wasn't big, and the stones of the hearth were dangerous. I went upstairs to change into the colored no-fly briefs I used for wrestling, and B stayed downstairs to change. I remember coming down the stairs and seeing him waiting there in his trunks. He looked great. Only, he had on his tennis shoes, which I didn't understand but didn't question. We got a feel for each other, traded some holds, tried out some holds we'd always imagined trying (head scissors for me, of course) and generally rolled around a bit. Not a terribly satisfying wrestling experience, but the story beforehand had made the time worthwhile.

For a while I saw a lot of B in the online wrestling news. I think he participated in a couple of the big gay wrestling events that take place in Florida and Oklahoma and Pennsylvania. I downloaded a couple of pictures of him and still have them on a disk somewhere. But I haven't seen anything of him in a long time now. As far as I can tell, he's not on either of the wrestling directories I'm most familiar with. None of my friends mention him when they talk about those with whom they've been chatting or wrestling. Ten years is a long time, and much can happen to a person.

Most of the time, I'm certain that I'm not a homosexual. Most of the time, I'm also certain that I'm not overwhelmingly heterosexual either. I'm something other than either, and my otherness seems in a constant state of fluidity . . . and a constant state of secrecy as far as my family is concerned. Whenever I'm trying to work out the logistics for a match or I nearly get caught with some compromising materials on my computer screen, I think of B. I wonder where he is, of course, but I also wonder at the courage it must have taken the homophobic family man and preacher either to reveal to all that he was homosexual or to live through whatever catastrophic event outed him.

Here I am, caught in a good friend's side headlock.

For me, 2006 was a good year in wrestling. All but one of my matches came in August, and while I would rather they be somewhat more spread out through the year, I was glad that they took place at all. I enjoyed wrestling seven great guys--Larry (IN), Ed, Thomas, John, Michael, Tim and Bob. Four other matches didn't work out, and for that I apologize to Chuck, Larry (FL), Matt and Big Guy. I hope we'll get another chance in 2007 or sometime not far beyond that. As for the coming year, I don't know what it holds in store, whether regarding wrestling or life in general. I have possibilities of matches in nearby cities--"nearby" meaning within five hours' drive--in February and June. I don't know what will happen with these, but I'm sure I'll be writing about them and the men I'm in touch with. In 2007 I hope to buy a pair of pro boots to take with me to matches, and I'd like to get another pair of trunks, either blue or white. My fondest wish is that somebody close by will appear on the scene to allow me the opportunity to wrestle more regularly and to take advantage of the activity's benefits as exercise. Regardless, I'll keep wrestling with men I'm able to meet, wrestling with myself and wrestling with God. And I'll keep writing about these things, whether or not anybody reads.

[aside.]

Whenever these brown gazes make contact,
they wrestle nervously, clasp and release
and clasp again, jostling for leverage,
pushing and pulling, intent and afraid.

No hint of this betrayed by face or hand—
no words leap from lips or echo in cold,
dark, lonesome valleys of mind or body.
Yet shameful wordless weakness haunts the joints, aches

along muscles that must needs clinch or snap.
Jesus!—we have wives and kids and beliefs
and desires neither welcomed nor understood,
ratcheting this tension up and up until

our only relief is beating retreat
to houses and lives and preoccupations
that keep souls and flesh safe from what we would do
without them—What would we do without them?

Okay, I find the word "church" in such close proximity to my masked face and naked torso to be strange indeed. Many would think me crazy, but I know I'm not--no more than most people at least. My passions and obsessions just seem to be the way I'm wired. It's "how I roll," unfortunate for me as that might be. Although certainly not at ease with my particular sexuality, I've grown more comfortable with it after reading the following article sometime back. It's from Monitor on Psychology 32.4 (2001).

Our Erotic Personalities Are as Unique as Our Fingerprints: Research Debunks Long-held Notions about Sexual Orientation (BY TORI DeANGELIS)

The gay rights' movement notwithstanding, the bulk of the public is still not ready to accept the fact that people display a range of sexual and affectional proclivities, says Linda Garnets, PhD, a researcher at the University of California at Los Angeles.

But there is irony in society's attempts to avoid sexual discomfort, Garnets contended in a keynote address at the January National Multicultural Summit II.

The latest research shows that people's erotic and affectional "personalities" are as varied and unique as a fingerprint or someone's voice, and that no one person is, as she puts it, "100 percent heterosexual 100 percent of the time." People's erotic attractions can be surprisingly fluid . . . , and science fails to support the conventional wisdom that people's sexuality can be neatly placed in rigid categories, she said.

Emerging research from hundreds of studies debunks a number of notions about sexual orientation, Garnets said. One is that sexual orientation is dichotomous--that one is either exclusively homosexual or heterosexual. Instead, new research finds that sexual orientations exist along a continuum, like colors in the spectrum of a rainbow. People can be sexually, affectionally or erotically attracted to people of the same gender, the other gender or both genders, she said.

New research also challenges the idea that people's sexual behavior is what defines sexual orientation, Garnets said. Sexual orientation has many dimensions that are related to their sexual orientation, including erotic and affectional fantasies, emotional attachments, self-identification and current relationship status.

The idea that people's sexual identities, behaviors and fantasies comprise a seamless whole is likewise disproven by research, Garnets added. Studies show a wide variety of overlapping possibilities--the woman who identifies herself as a bisexual but never develops a strong attraction to a man, for instance, or the heterosexual man who uses homoerotic fantasies when having sex with his female partner--that point to more complex realities.

New empirical findings also challenge the notion that sexual orientation begins at a young age and doesn't change, Garnets added. There's considerable evidence that some people's attractions toward both women and men can change over time. Both those who identify as bisexuals and those who don't can experience these changing gender attractions. Women who have had exclusively heterosexual experiences, for example, may develop attractions to women at any point in their lives.

In addition, research shows, strictly biological, genetic, social or familial explanations rarely explain how each of us develops a particular sexual orientation, she said. For instance, only four studies to date have examined brain differences between heterosexuals and homosexuals, and each has different results. There are gender differences in such findings as well, Garnets said. While some evidence points to a possible genetic link for homosexuality in men, no such evidence exists for women. Similarly, women appear to be more fluid in their propensity to change their feelings about which gender they're attracted to.

Bisexuality, which has come under increasing study recently, provides a fascinating new model that challenges rigid beliefs about sexuality, Garnets added. Bisexuals "challenge the either-or assumption that sexual orientation comes in only two mutually exclusive categories," Garnets said. In contrast to society's mandates, bisexuals tend to put someone's personal qualities before gender as the criteria for choosing a partner. As one bisexual woman put it, "'My sexual orientation is toward creative people of color who can cook,'" Garnets quipped. Likewise, transgendered individuals raise interesting questions for society, Garnets said. There is no clear relationship, for example, between cross-dressing and other cross-gender behaviors and sexual orientation.

When society condemns those of differing sexual orientations, it limits its own expression, Garnets contended. People's condemnation of gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered people is particularly based on fear of being labeled gay themselves. In turn, this fear leads people to conform to gender roles to avoid being labeled "gay." Yet such restrictions limit the range of human potential, she believes.

Other cultures provide kinder models for differing sexual orientations. Native American cultures, for example, view cross-gendered individuals "as blessed, possessing both a male and a female spirit, as two-spirited," Garnets said, a latitude that may open up new doors for rich and creative expression.

Today I was walking at the gym during the lunch hour. From up on the elevated track that runs around the wall above the weights and exercise machines and ball courts, I was looking down on the folks working out below. I didn't have my mp3 player and was somewhat bored, so I was watching everybody else and listening to the country music radio station the staff had playing.

About the third lap, I noticed this guy walking on a treadmill. He was a big fellow, and my first thought was Good for you, guy. Get yourself in some shape and live longer. My second thought was Hey, that looks like W, a guy who works where I do but in a different department. I didn't have my glasses on, so I couldn't tell for sure, not for another couple of laps at least. Once the light played tricks on me, and I thought I saw, as I passed above and behind him, some golden brown hair on top of his head. No, that's not him, I thought. W wears his thinning dark hair trimmed close. Then, as I came around one side and could see a bit of profile, I felt fairly certain it was him. Not until he walked away, however, was I convinced. He has a distinctive walk, a posture that leans back somewhat, perhaps to counterbalance his belly.

W and I have been on a couple of projects together, but I don't know him that well. I do, however, have what I call a "wrestling crush" on him. I'd love to get him into a pair of wrestling trunks and get on the mat with him. He's roughly my height but a good bit younger and, I guessing, 50 pounds heavier. But he's shaped like one of the old-time wrestlers, and that's what caught my eye the first time I ever saw him. He's quite the bear.

These wrestling crushes have been the most difficult things to deal with over the years. I see a man or know a man whose shape and bearing resonates with my wrestling desires, a man whose body I'd like to see nearly naked and feel in contact with mine. And I can do nothing but obsess and fantacize. In the online environment, the men I meet come already interested in wrestling. The wouldn't be in the places I meet them if they weren't. But out in the real world, wrestling life is completely different. Asking a man to wrestle with you isn't like asking him to have lunch or shoot some hoops. On the one hand, television wrestling has made the notion of wrestling seem so stupid to most of us. On the other hand, our culture has become so paranoid about same-sex contact that wrestling--for most everybody beyond the teenage years--is seen as far beyond the limits of acceptable behavior. I've had--and I have--wrestling crushes on men who I'm almost certain would wrestle if the subject could ever be broached, but I've never found the courage to approach them. Some, I think, feel the same way I do about it, which makes it doubly difficult to give voice to the desire.

And so, W walks away from his treadmill, to the dressing room and then out into the world, and I keep walking 'round and 'round.

My first wrestling experience took place on 2 January 1996. On New Year's Day, I traveled a couple of hours to a friend's house and spent the night with his wife and him. That night, I didn't sleep much, going over and over in my mind what might happen that afternoon, and when morning finally came, I got up and drove another three hours or so, to a city where other friends lived. The plan was that D and I would meet for lunch. If we liked each other, we'd go back to his place and wrestle.

We met at this little restaurant he'd told me about. I don't remember what he ate, but I was so nervous I couldn't tackle anything but a salad. Neither of us ate much, but we had a good conversation. When we finished, we decided that, yes, we thought we could go through with this, so we paid our checks and got in our cars and I followed him to his house, which was in a nice little neighborhood in a medium-sized town (near the city where my friends lived). My most nervous moment might have been stepping through his front door and into his world. Anything could happen, I thought, here in this private place away from the eyes of the world.

He'd set up a room upstairs. The place was small, with a single window facing the house next door and a small mat, maybe a tumbling mat, on the floor. He stayed there while I went into the bathroom to change.

I didn't have wrestling trunks in those days, and I didn't wear the colored no-fly briefs I wore most often in those early matches before I bought my trunks. I took off my clothes and put on a pair of black form-fitting workout shorts with a wide white waistband.

I took a deep breath and came out of the bathroom. Nerves and January and the fact that I had on nothing but this pair of shorts made the place seem cold, and I felt as if I were shivering when I stepped into the wrestling room to find him waiting there in a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt.

D was gay, but I don't think he was involved in any relationship. He'd grown up in the Midwest. He was older than I, by maybe ten years or so, making him at the time in his late 40s or early 50s. He had a round face that smiled easily, a high voice and a high, warm laugh. He was maybe 5'11" and weighed around 260, which made him big in the belly and upper body. He also had big legs with thick strong thighs. And here he was, nervous too but ready to wrestle me.

One of the notions that kept me awake the night before was rolling over and over in my mind images of how we might get started, get warmed up. I heard myself suggesting that we try a few holds, and I pictured me putting a head scissors on him--my favorite hold, my obsession--and warming up as he tried to escape. D was a fan of the bear hug, so I pictured him taking me in that. I was still wondering about this when I came out of the bathroom and entered "the ring."

D stripped off his t-shirt.

"Come here," he said as he walked toward me. "Hold out your arms."

He took a forearm in each hand and kneaded it. Then he moved up to my upper arms.

"You do the same," he said.

The chill in the room faded as we moved closer and accustomed ourselves to touching another man. And then he stepped in close and took me in a warm embrace--not a wrestling hold, not a bear hug, but an embrace. The ice was broken.

Next thing I knew I was in a standing side headlock, the first I'd ever been in after years of dreaming about it!

Over the course of the next hour or two, we wrestled there in that small room. We moved back and forth between wrestling half-speed catch-as-catch-can falls and just swapping holds we wanted to try. One would lock in a hold and the other would try to escape. If he did, we would continue to wrestle around until one got the other in something that he couldn't get out of.

D once worked me into a head scissors and double hammerlock, to which I eventually had to submit. I took him with a bear hug, which he loved. I worked him over with a figure-four head scissors. He made me submit to a body scissors and full nelson.

For a first experience, it was awesome! One of the images that still lingers in my mind over ten years later is of a head scissors he had me in. My head was sideways between his thighs so that I faced his feet. I remember looking at those crossed feet, saw them working together as he cinched the hold tighter and tighter. He had great legs.

When the session was ended, I showered and dressed and walked with him downstairs. We'd talked a lot over the course of the afternoon, which, as it often does when I wrestle men I like, meant as much to me as the wrestling. At his front door, we hugged and expressed our satisfaction that we could, in fact, get almost naked and wrestle another man without any overt sexual events taking place. We were both relieved. Again, we hugged, and I headed to the nearby city to visit friends for a couple of days.

I saw D again at a Waffle House some months or a year later. He was passing through where I lived, and we'd arranged to meet for a meal. We talked openly about wrestling, and I remember watching a couple of people at nearby tables paying attention to us. But we had a good visit. We've been in touch via email since--although not in a long time now--but have never wrestled each other again.

That was my first experience, as I said. I wouldn't wrestle again until August, when I would have three matches back to back and then back out of another.