Jacob wrestleth with an angel

Genesis 32: 24-28

24 And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day. 25 And when he saw that he prevailed not against him, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and the hollow of Jacob's thigh was out of joint, as he wrestled with him. 26 And he said, Let me go, for the day breaketh. And he said, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me. 27 And he said unto him, What is thy name? And he said, Jacob. 28 And he said, Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel: for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed.

Here in the doldrums of winter, I'm doing a lot of thinking. I was recently wondering about the various shapes the proverbial male midlife crisis takes. Most of the time we hear about a man buying a red sportscar or having an affair, quitting his job or taking up skydiving.

My midlife crisis--I'm 48--seems to be taking the shape of reframing my sexual identity. I don't intend to say that I'm a closet homosexual. I don't even intend to say that I'm bi-curious. Identity is more fluid than that. We create and recreate ourselves--our masks--as we come into different life situations. In the same way, our sexual identity, as an article I posted earlier on this blog suggests, is also more fluid than that.

Although wrestling has brought me several homoerotic experiences. These come unbidden, given the very nature of wrestling. But as of yet, I've had no consciously sexual experience with another man. But this enters my mind more and more these days.

I wonder if I would be having these ideas if it weren't for wrestling. A friend of mine once told me that it was through wrestling that he learned he was gay. He was dating a woman who had brothers. He got close to the brothers and realized that he enjoyed wrestling with them much more than he enjoyed fondling their sister. What a stunning realization that must have been! But then again, maybe not. At some level that couldn't have come as a surprise.

So I wrestle with myself and my identity. And I look for men who in some way resemble the image of that man I want to hit the mats with, wrestling every one of them I can get my hands on.

Here's what I had planned for my friend D yesterday. Unfortunately, life got in the way, and I had to leave his town before he was available and head home.

Another time, D, okay? And soon, I hope.

This evening I'm getting together with the first man I ever wrestled. (That experience is described in a post on 12/19/2006.) I happened to be coming to his town on business and got in touch with him. We talked on the telephone for a good while yesterday afternoon, and I think both of us are looking forward to it. We're eleven years older now, which will probably play into this new experience. He said that he'd had only one other wrestling experience in the time between January 1996 and now. I've had maybe 30, although I haven't stopped to count them.

We'll get together this afternoon after his workday, and we'll probably just swap hold, very low intensity. I expect there to be bear hugs and head scissors all over the room for an hour or so, and then I'll hit the road for home.

Here's a picture from a match I had this past summer. That's me working over my red-masked friend with a figure-four head scissors. We got several good shots out of this wrestling session. And a couple of good little videos too. I was watching one of our falls on video a couple of days ago, and I could not but be amazed at the how far I've been able to explore this wrestling fantasy I've always had. From working over my pillow when I was 12 or younger, I've finally gotten a few real heads caught in my favorite of holds. (I wish I'd had my black mask for this match. It was on order, but it was too late in coming.)

I need to get back to my wrestling history, picking up at 1997. I'll try to do that soon.