Feature photo by  Hugo Fernandes

I remember being in love with wrestling as a kid and my obsession only got worse as I got older. I was sure I was the first one who smelled what The Rock was cookin’, and my parents looked at me oddly as I screamed WHAT to the TV as Stone Cold smashed his beer cans in the ring. I waited every week for Kane to be unmasked and I wondered when The Undertaker was going to go back to being mysterious. I was devastated when Eddie Guerrero passed away. I would look forward to his dancing lowrider and Mexican music blasting for all he fans to know that he was the Latino Heat (along with Lita of course and her kick ass Aztec tattoos).

I guess my passion for wrestling ran deep through my veins because no one was surprised when I started dating a wrestler. We met at a wrestling show in Chicago. I wouldn’t miss any back yard, back alley, abandoned factory show if it killed me. Lucky for me, I had a few cousins with the same passion I had for wrestling. The show was over and I was waiting around for a few autographs when there he was, I’ll call him Christopher. Christopher walked right up to me looking like a younger version of Hulk Hogan. He gave me a T-shirt with his logo on it and his number and that was that. I wasn’t about to call him though. I was 21 he was 35. I was either going to feel too young to talk to him or like a groupie and, either way, I was nervous as hell.

A few days later he found me on Myspace. After a few e-mails back and forth I gave him my number and he called. That was it. We clicked immediately and from then on we started talking at least three times a day. When we weren’t talking on the phone, we were texting. When we weren’t texting, we were emailing on Myspace. Things moved along quickly and our relationship grew. He lived in another state but it didn’t matter because he was always traveling and he always had wrestling matches in Chicago. Christopher once worked for Vince McMahon, the owner of WWE wrestling. He also wrestled some pretty big names and took on Larry the King Lawler. And yes I know wrestling is fake, but I would see the cost of trying to make it to the top again.

With every stitch that was sewn into his head and every bone broke for flying off the ropes into a table, I started to see a darker side of my adoring wrestler. He started to get hurt purposely for every show and that kind of pain was suppose to be saved for only the big shows.

Christopher had made it to the top at one point in his life. A point where we all could see him wrestling with the best. But fame and money came too quickly and sometimes when that happens it brings out the worse in people. With one drug overdose and too much partying, he no longer worked for Vince McMahon. He eventually got his life straightened up and started working on wrestling again. He became, and still is, very famous in Puerto Rico but he was devastated he never found that kind of acceptance here.

The perks of being a wrestler’s girlfriend is a lot of free wrestling shows, autographs and lots of cool merchandise. That wasn’t the reason I was his girlfriend though. I loved him and he loved me. I would set up his table before shows and sell his DVDs, t-shirts, posters and key chains. His persona in the ring was nothing like his character in real life, or so I thought. He was always playing the bad guy. Always ripping up kids signs, throwing food at the crowd, yelling threats and (his favorite) bashing the Chicago Cubs. Throw cake in a man’s face he’ll laugh it off but talk about his Cubbies and he’s ready to taste blood. It was entertainment and it was fun. But like most things in life, sooner or later the fun runs out and things start getting complicated. I noticed after awhile the more encouraging I was to my wrestler, the more distance he would put between us. I was no longer receiving sweet notes in the mail, no longer getting flowers and sweet emails and random text messages through out my day. I started to feel lonely. I wasn’t ready to give up on him yet. I gave him space, time, whatever he needed but in the end I couldn’t fix him. I no longer liked being a wrestler’s girlfriend.

I was heart broken when he said he was going to Puerto Rico for three months. Three months seemed like forever but he needed to get away and feel wanted again. Me just wanting him, I realized, wasn’t enough. I can’t imagine having thousands of fans and then losing them overnight.

I thought it would be our breaking point but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Things went back to being great between us when he was gone. The notes in the mail started coming, followed by flowers and tons of phone calls. Even though he was far away I felt close to him again. I got posters in the mail of him in his Mexican mask doing flips and angry poses. I got my wrestler back. For awhile.

When Christopher came back he wanted to see me right away. This is when I noticed the change. The worse change. He was more aggressive with me and I didn’t like it. He was being pushy and controlling. After a few weeks of this, he started suggesting odd sexual things to me which kind of freaked me out. He was a whole new Christopher but I had a feeling it was the someone he always had been. I didn’t know how to take this new person so I kept our relationship strictly phone conversations. He called one day out of the blue and said he was getting his hair cut by his ex-girlfriend who was also a wrestler. This bothered me because I knew what these type of wrestler girls looked like. Huge boobs and and fun personalities. I didn’t talk to Christopher for weeks after that. I had helped him through so much and this was the thanks I got. Finally he called me one last time.

Our relationship had been beautiful at one time, something I looked forward to. Now it was something that was hurting me. He called and acted like I didn’t want to see him successful and happy. He said I wasn’t wild enough for him and that if I wanted to continue to be his woman, I was going to have to listen to him. If I did, then maybe he would consider paying for breast implants for me. I was shocked and, at that point, done with my wrestler. There is nothing worse than some one you love telling you your just not good enough for them. I told him to fuck off and have a great life and that’s where it ended.

My cousin is a wrestler. Not a pro, just does little events in Chicago and told me after Christopher and I broke up he dated his ex until he broke both his legs and she left him for another wrestler.

I was on Myspace not too long ago and I was surprised to find that he had sent me an email. Before I opened it, I examined his picture and thought about all the things I once loved about him, all the fun we had together, the sweet person he was and the bad taste he left in my mouth after our last phone conversation. I opened the email and it read: “Hey Princess, long time no talk. I miss you. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Email me back.”

I thought long and hard about what to write back. I kept it short and sweet. “Christopher, I’m married now with a child so I would appreciate it if you did not contact me. Oh- and the Cubs are still the best team in the world.”

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