Ah, the Mommyish community. I’ve told you about my sordid Juggalo past, my love for all things Star Wars and probably a ton of other things most people would keep to themselves. Why? Because I’m a giver.
Seriously though, I’ve had a strange, strange ride into parenthood, with a lot of weird stops. And one of those stops was dating (however briefly) a wannabe professional wrestler. Actually, I dated a couple of them, because I’m a glutton for…punishment? Hilarious ice-breakers for later in life? Anywho, having a child with a Juggalo was one thing. For one thing, I got a great kid out of it. For another, he’s a pretty good dad and was also really cool about me writing about him on the internet and calling him a Juggalo (the pictures don’t lie, though).
The whole professional wrestling thing is a whole different story. I will be the first to admit, watching the WWF (or E, or whatever they legally have to call themselves now) was NOT my cuppa tea. Not then, and not now. Between the silly costumes, the outrageously cheesy story lines and the oh-so-obviously staged “wrestling” I thought (and still think) that the whole thing is ridiculous*.
So I’ve put together a list of the reasons why I’m glad I didn’t breed with a professional wrestler (wannabe). Honestly though, this is just the tip of the iceberg. The reasons are endless and will go on till the end of time.
*Obviously I’m not talking about real wrestling. You know, the type of wrestling that gets you to the Olympics. That’s some serious business and not to be trifled with. Or so I’ve heard.
Let’s get the most obvious thing out of the way. Most “professional” wrestling today is filled with misogynistic bullshit. Women in skimpy costumes being objectified left and right. If they do get a legitimate storyline, they’re usually being passed around as a wife, daughter, sister, etc. And the whole “hero/heel” aspect that you see in the male side of this industry is a great partner for the always present Madonna/whore complex. And I’m not the only person who thinks so.
Here’s another obvious one, though maybe slightly less so than the blatant woman-hate that often goes on at these things. According to Michael Castle from the Bleacher Report, when The Rock came back to the WWE in 2012, he called another wrestler, John Cena, a ton of homophobic names:
“As we all know by now, John Cena apparently has lady parts. John Cena is also allegedly gay, a teletubby, a wannabe rapper and um…gay. Did I mention he apparently has lady parts?
These are, of course, the major arguments for why John Cena sucks as told by my eight-year-old brother—oh wait! Sorry, these comments are actually from the Rock.”
And this is from the freaking Rock, someone you frequently see in kiddie movies and mindless action flicks. People like the Rock.
3. The silly costumes
This one is a little shallow, I’m sure. But whatevs. The damn costumes are silly as hell, and if you think that you only see that shiz on the “superstars,” then you’re crazy. The fans wear that shit all the time and I think it might be detrimental to my kid’s mental heath if I had to laugh at them until I turned blue every time they had a “fun” WWE outing with daddy. NOPE.
2. Wrestling is dangerous as hell if not done right
Fun Frances Fact – As a teenager I used to hang out with a group of dudes who would meet up every week and wrestle, WWE-style, on the beach, at the end of the boardwalk. It was actually pretty fun to watch and not nearly as lame as it sounds (I swear!), but some of the crap these guys did was dangerous as hell. More than a couple of them ended up at the hospital and one friend has lasting back damage and pain from it. Now, obviously, I could just forbid my hypothetical wrestling hubby/baby daddy from teaching this stuff to my kid, but I doubt that would last long if they were really that into it. None of my guy friends had father into this shit and they still managed to risk serious neck-death every week for four years. DOUBLE NOPE.
1. I am mean and wrestling sucks
I’m sure there are many (some?) of you who just LOVE WWE-style wrestling. To you, it’s just the bee’s knees. But to me? BORING. I would rather do crafting. I would rather hang out in Pinellas County. I would rather do ANYTHING. So, thank you potential wrestling enthusiast baby daddies for not procreating with me. But the real shout-out goes to my vagina for holding out for something, anything, better. Bravo.
(Image: getty images/Julia Sonenshein)