I love it that you're reading a homoerotic wrestling kink blog on Christmas! You are such the hardcore, ironman wrestling kinkster! Or, you're reading a back edition... or this isn't even your holiday... but in any case, I'm taking it easy today. I'm trying not to sweat the obligatory family drama. I'm trying not to resent the cacophony of carols that have nearly bored a hold straight through my head by now. I'm trying to relax and let it all wash over me.
This time last year, I posted some of the behind-the-scenes shots from BG East, capturing the boys between slams and submissions, relaxed, smiling, and clearly just savoring a happy moment. I thought I'd reprise the theme again for another Christmas day, because these unguarded smiles on these hardworking hunks just lighten my mood.
We all take ourselves too seriously. I do it. You do it (don't contradict me!). Hell knows, the politicians and pundits and preachers do it, particularly this time of year. So a glimpse of an almost shy smile on a granite-chiseled, merciless ring heel is a sweet reminder, I think, to just cool my jets. Whatever it is that gets me hot and bothered (in a bad way), if I just just take a step back and remove my ego from the situation, 9 times out of ten it's all just silliness not to be taken seriously.
There's seriously messed up shit going on in the world right at this very moment, of course. That's no laughing matter, but that said, in light of the serious shit, my shit honestly is laughable. So I had to wait in an insanely long line to get that last Christmas present that I put off until way, way too late. So the roads are filled with crazies. So another season of Dexter came and went and I still haven't seen Michael C. Hall's world class ass. None of it should be such a burden that I can't set it down today, let the tension that I'm carrying in my body slip away, and just smile.
Okay, so I'm having trouble letting go of my bitterness about Michael C. Hall's ass. I'll keep working on it in between Scrabble games and slices of turkey and endless accounts of the inanity of my sibling's miserable children (tension rising again... breathe....... okay, I'm back).
Whatever rituals you do or don't engage in today, whatever your religious or familial proclivities, whatever the burdens you carry, my hope for you is a deep breath, a sly smile, a moment of innocent humor, and all the hot, sweaty, muscle thumping, crotch bumping, ass humping sexual pleasure your heart desires.