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Old 06-Nov-17, 02:43
HermanDG HermanDG is offline
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Default November 2017: Stacyann

I have to admit, I have always been a Halloween guy. While I know that there are those who love Christmas and there are some who think that Thanksgiving is the greatest, something about the spectacle surrounding Halloween has always been captivating to me. I don't honestly know why — maybe it was because as a kid, my only real plan for life was to one day be a superhero — so part of the affinity I had for All Hallows' Eve may have had something to do with the concept of dressing up in a costume and taking on a new and exciting persona. However long after I’d stopped thinking that being a superhero was viable career option and trick or treating, I still loved everything to do with the pomp and ceremony related to October 31st.

To be sure, this year my neighbourhood had been bustling with kids coming to my door, pretty much as a steady stream from about 5:30pm — when it was all the wee kiddies — until almost 9:00pm — when it was the pre-Halloween Party, high school kids. While I still loved the city of Toronto for all of its kinetic energy and bustle, the new house off Lakeshore Road near downtown Burlington was ideal for life at 50. Burlington was a great town, especially in the summer when Spencer Smith Park — just a short walk from the house — would attract everything from Rib Fests to music festivals.

Life was good, even if it was a little quieter. If ever I wanted a taste of the Big Smoke, I could either make the drive or take the Go Train into T.O. for world class entertainment and sports — although I was sure that Maple Laffs actually being both young and good was likely a sign of the coming apocalypse.

Turning 50 had been a revelation for me. While I was still exceedingly fit for a guy my age, there were a few little nagging injuries from years of sports and from wrestling some very frisky women — both significant others and Sessionettes in the city. A couple weeks earlier a little blonde dynamo named Brooke had given me a real run for my money and laid a beating on my ribs with her variety of scissor holds. I had to admit that younger, stronger gals like her that were jacked on CrossFit classes had the ability to legitimately give me more and more problems when rolling around on a mat. They were fun problems, but problems none the less.

To that end, I’d begun kind of writing my “mixed wrestling memoirs” in an online forum that I’d found about a year or so earlier and had become a regularly scheduled read, almost daily in fact . It was fun to remember and relive the past by writing about it all and on reflection, all those memories and moments were so vivid and rich with detail as I revisited them. While writing had always been an interest, the time to do so had not always been abundant, but now, with my business being almost self-sufficient, it was almost as fun to exercise my writing chops as it was the ol’ bod in the gym. I had to admit, there wasn’t as much soreness when I wrote.

Following a really fun night of mini ghouls and goblins, I went online to check out what had become my more regular, online haunt, just to see if there was anything new or interesting to see or read. As I logged in, I was immediately given a notification that I had been messaged. When I noted the name of the sender, I was intrigued. The person in question was a popular contributor to the site, one whose posts I had read quite often and who had been — at least in part — an inspiration for me to begin documenting my past experiences. I wondered what they might have to say and I was hopeful that they had — perhaps — even read some of my work.

It didn’t take long to understand that they had.


Quote:
Originally Posted by Stacyann
PRIVATE MESSAGE - For Real

Hi Herman. I really like your “stories”. If you ever want to have your ass kicked by a real woman, just let me know.
Hmmmmm…this could be interesting…


To be continued….
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