Wrastling

When I was in grade school I used to be on the wrestling team. I didn’t really have a wrestler’s body (5’9” and lanky) but all my friends were on the team. And my friend’s dad was both the coach of the wrestling team and the basketball team; didn’t hurt to get on his good side.

I wasn’t very good. Actually, I wasn’t any good. I think I might have won five matches over four years. I even crapped my pants during one match (ah, the start of the beautiful crapping my pants tradition). I chipped one of my front teeth. I even got pinned once in 14 seconds. I didn’t really start lifting weights till I got to high school and even then I didn’t know what I was doing. It wasn’t till my college years that I started reading up on routines and training splits and really got in to it.

Anyway, the point is I sucked at wrestling. I was just too tall and too slow. Monday night I decided to take it up again.

Don’t jump to any conclusions here; I wasn’t wrestling with anyone else. I got up to the bar early on Monday since I had to be at work pretty early on Tuesday. I had four pitchers and called it a night. Pretty sad when you have four pitchers of beer and still stare at the ceiling trying to fall asleep. I got home around 10:00 which left me plenty of time to sleep. The Renter had picked up some new Spanish porn and it was staring me in the face. Usually I take care of business right before I go to the bar, when I’m sober. Hell, I can crank one out in under a minute under those circumstances. But I never do it after drinking. Might explain why I have troubles shooting my load during drunk sex. Monday I was determined to get it done. I popped in the porn, lubed up and went at it.

It was a battle royal.

I tugged, I pulled, I yanked, I beat. After five minutes I was beat. But I came out victorious.

Wrastling, as my high school physics teacher called it. Just wrestling.