‘My Mommy Wants You To Be My New Daddy’ And Other Crazy Things Said To Me By Wrestling Groupies
Pro wrestlers are overgrown, immature, mildly masochistic people on a quest to bring credibility to the most ridiculous of situations. If that’s the mentality of a pro wrestler – who the hell are their groupies?
First, the fact that I even have time to write this article should tell you how lackluster the current groupie scene actually is. If this was 1986, my fanny pack would be full of phone numbers and I’d have an orgy as part of my daily breakfast. But at this point, I think our cache is one grade above cosplayer, meaning our female fanbase is of the eclectic variety.
At the top of the heap is a prowling breed affectionately known as “rats.” They are called this because they come out of the woodwork once the show is over (and they often smell like a sewer grate). They usually travel in Rat Packs, which is apropos because they’re generally fedora-wearing drunks who might also have one glass eye.
And the fact that they are lusting after adult play-fighters means they have some pretty fucked up tastes. Judging by the wrestler skillset, they’re clearly expecting you to be as rough as possible without harming them at all. However, I’ve discovered that the abdominal stretch is not acceptable foreplay.
Since they became attracted to your wrestling gimmick, you’re expected to keep up the façade in the bedroom. That’s what they came to see and that’s what they want to see to come. If you’re a good guy, have passion, energy and fortitude, if you’re a bad guy, be a dick and if you have some whacked-out gimmick like a Viking, you better wear your furry boots and swing your sword or she’ll be most unsatisfied.
The rats enjoy these experiences so much that they’re happy to do pretty much anything in exchange; give you a place to crash, a ride to the next show, even fix your flat tire. They’re the Tim Allens of the wrestling world – willing to fix anything while often having things blow up in their face.
There’s always a master rat, let’s call her “Splinter”, who’s so grotesque that she’ll haggle straight-up Pawn Stars deal for a night of passion. One wrestler I know slept with a girl that looked like Zelda from Poltergeist in exchange for an Xbox. And once you can’t bear to get it up anymore, they’ll become a genital Goldberg – who’s next?
And if you are looking to up your console collection, just make sure sex is all they’re looking for. There’s no better way for a single mother to make up for her deadbeat ex than bringing home her abandoned son’s favorite wrestler. Beware of fisherman MILFs, who will gladly use their sons as bait. I actually had a kid come up to me at intermission and say, “my mom wants you to be my new daddy.” You know it’s a solid pickup line when you get someone you birthed to say it for you. Nothing like turning down a woman while simultaneously crushing her son’s dreams. Especially after they just bought your t-shirts.
Once you’re in, it’s a lot harder to get out. One night of passion and she grows claws like Wolverine. Be prepared to endure her yelling out your real name at shows, expecting to never have to pay for a ticket or merchandise for her or her friends and adding your family on Facebook. To avoid this completely, it’s crucial to ruin the evening immediately post-intercourse – usually by the time-honored tradition of throwing her clothes out the hotel window. If you have a tag team partner, he could also make a run in (resulting in a disqualification).
In the non-sexual sphere, groupies are actually fun, decent people who do heartwarmingly outrageous things – like this girl who got a tattoo of my autograph. If I had known she was getting it tattooed, I would have had much better penmanship. Good luck explaining to your future grandkids who the hell I was. Although it made me realize how nice it is to have fans that support your dreams as passionately as you do. I am incredibly thankful for such wonderful people.
I have 8 unopened Xboxes for sale. Email me if you’re interested.