“There is one universal truth within the LGBTQ community that we as members have to accept as fact; and that is once you hit the age of thirty and over, your social life pretty much slows down considerably, compared to when you were in your early twenties. And once you hit forty and above, if you’re single, you are almost looked down on with pity and to some degree, contempt, by those younger than you. A far cry from the unity that the LGBTQ community cries for when facing the challenges from the outside, isn’t it? When we face the prejudices of the heterosexual and religious communities, we’re all about standing together. But when all we want is companionship, the ageism within ourselves is extreme. We tend to keep the older generations at arms length, even if all they want is a friend.”

“I think the saddest fact about this entire outlook is that I was guilty of it myself. I can remember times when I was in my early twenties and out clubbing, every time an older ‘daddy’ with silver in his hair tried to hit me up, I’d make my excuses and turn the other way. Not my proudest moments, but at the very least I was not one of those rude little shits who get approached by anyone with silver in their hair, make a face and go ‘Ew!’ I just … didn’t give them the chance to make their pitch, whether they were simply looking for a friend or possibly more. I was young. I was stupid. And only now am I realizing what those same guys must have been feeling at the time.”

“Only once can I remember where I was outright cold to the guy trying to get in my pants, but he just wouldn’t take the hint or wasn’t able to accept ‘no’ for an answer. I finally told him that he was just too old for me. His response? ‘Age is just a number.’ That’s when I looked him dead in the eye and told him, ‘Yeah, but yours is a pretty big honking number!’”

“I can still see the stricken look in his eyes, and how he just deflated right in front of me. It’s a memory that’s haunted me for almost twenty years.”

“And it is not just the younger generations of gays, lesbians, trans, bisexuals and queers that are the result of the older men and women becoming marginalized. But also social networking due to homophobia, heteronormativity, heterosexism, prejudice and blatant discrimination.”

---

“You need to stop kicking yourself.”

The voice called to Jamie from across the table at the diner where he was eating dinner with his close friend and I suppose you might call ‘protege’ of sorts. Chad Campbell.

You remember him, don’t you? From back in the Team BJ days, the flighty and sassy young gay college student who Jamie – alongside Sandra and Kathy – had rescued from the streets as a homeless gay youth. It was thanks to Jamie and those lovely ladies’ support that Chad had graduated college and was currently working in the fashion industry, both as a hair stylist with his own clientele list, along with being an intern at a successful fashion house. Chad’s long-term goal was to be a fashion designer himself, with his own house, his own line. He wanted to succeed at designing his own visions, not using his visions to make another designer successful and richer.

Chad had filled out since his college student days when he worked at Kathy’s coffee house ‘Brew Ha-Ha’ while continuing with his studies. He was no longer the skinny ‘twink’ he had been before, as his body had filled out in the years since. Also his flamboyant feathered/upswept hair was now shorter and smooth as silk. And of course, Chad had support elsewhere, as in Jamie’s own circle of close friends. Names such as Ben Jordan, Amy Santino and Samantha Marlowe. When Chad had to come up with a ‘fashion line’ to showcase for his college final, Jamie helped enlist the above mentioned three to serve as runway models for Chad, all but ensuring his passing grade.

“I’m not kicking myself.” Jamie said as he picked up his glass of red, seated across from his young friend at Vittorio Ristorante & Pizzeria restaurant. Of course, Chad snorted back his derisive laugh of disbelief. The younger man shook his head and turned back to Jamie and gave him a look reminiscent of expressions Jamie can remember sporting ten years ago when talking to those older than him. Men and women he had been trying to hold a blanket cloud over the eyes of those around him, those who did not want to burden him with troubles atop of his own. He could remember a time or two he had played that same tactic with Kathy, much to her chagrin.

Oh how the wheel turns!

“Bullshit.” Chad said as he twirled his fork in the plateful of rigatoni pasta that laid before him. “You’ve been down in the dumps ever since you had that match a few weeks ago. Kathy and Sandra have both said you’ve been moping about…”

“I do NOT mope!” Jamie said, perhaps a little louder than he initially planned in protesting. Chad just tilted his head slightly like a curious puppy. “Really?” He asked. “You haven’t been answering calls or agreeing to meet anyone up. You just go to work at Oasis and go home and shut yourself away.”

“I’m here with you now, aren’t I?” Jamie pointed out. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

“It would,” Chad seemingly agreed. “If Kathy and Sandra didn’t both have to threaten you to get you to agree. You know when Ben called…”

“Ben?” Jamie interrupted, his brow knitted into a frown. “Ben Jordan called you?”

“Yes?” Chad answered with a hint of snark in his tone, this close to uttering the dreaded “duh”. “He has my number, just like he has Kathy and Sandra’s. Your friends are his and vice versa.”

Jamie sighed gently, looking elsewhere as Chad went on, “He’s been as worried as the rest of us.”

“Well you don’t need to be.” Jamie turned back to him. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Chad shook his head. “And given you’re a certified counselor now, you’d think you of all people would be able to recognize and acknowledge the fact. That match…”

“If you can call it that…” Jamie murmured as he reached for his personal pizza, to which Chad wisely pointed out, “There, that’s what we’re talking about! It’s been bothering you more than you want to admit! That match meant more to you than you want to admit…”

“Of course it meant something, Chad!” Jamie barked. “It was my first match in ten years and … I admit I miss it. Missed it." He self corrected. “But we lost and it’s over…”

“You didn’t lose.” Chad pointed out. “Your partner did. Now…” He held up both hands in mock surrender. “I don’t get it. I don’t know why anyone would wrestle or watch it … if it wasn’t for the half naked muscle guys that is. But if it means that much, you could always…”

“What?” Jamie questioned. “”Make an actual return?” He shook his head. “Hard pass. With Ben semi-retired and Amy elsewhere, it just wouldn’t be the same. Plus, I’m not exactly getting any younger.”

“You’re, what? Thirty-nine?”

“Forty-one.” Jamie replied with the barest traces of a smile. “But I love you for that two year loss.” Chad smiled as he went for his own wine, as Jamie went on, “I’m still working my way through these little nagging injuries from when I competed a decade ago. I don’t think I can go through a regular schedule again against guys half my age.”

“Sounds like dating in the gay scene.” Chad jested, to which Jamie shrugged his shoulders and said half-heartedly, “I wish it was that good.”


One of the top gay nightclubs just outside of the limits of Pacific Palisades, in the better part of Los Angeles itself. If you tried to imagine the prototypical gay dive in your mind, you would probably come up with the spitting (pun intended) image of C Frenz. With its brick walls, colorful lights and pulsating music, it was one of the top gay dance clubs in better LA. And the weekend following his team’s elimination from the 2024 Blast From the Past, Jamie had made the hard decision to take a night off from Oasis with the desire to drown his sorrows in multiple kamikaze drinks.

Jamie had went to great lengths to make himself presentable, as style was his middle name. He just had not made the effort to go out in … well, it had been so long that he couldn’t remember the last time he had done so. Especially alone. His hair was styled flawlessly, goatee trimmed and neat and wearing his cream colored button up and matching slacks, he just wanted to drink, and not worry about trying to BE Jamie Dean, the social butterfly. He sat at the bar and made idle chatter with the bartender, a lesbian in her middle years while people watching around him. And his efforts would have been successful were it not for the young man who had clearly set his eyes on Jamie.

The moment the young gay man, his name Roman Himes, perhaps 22 years of age, simply walked right up to Jamie and he planted a hungry kiss on the surprised Jamie who almost spilled his drink as a result. Roman spent the remainder of the night, practically glued to Jamie’s side; talking, drinking, dancing and yes - making out.

That is until the inevitable question happened. Roman asked Jamie how old he was because of the lightning and Jamie saw no reason to lie. He answered truthfully and he could see the vast wave of disappointment in Roman’s eyes. The young man made some random excuse that he had work early in the morning and he ditched Jamie in the partying crowd.

Truth be told, Jamie had never felt so hurt, not even with everything he had gone through in the world of pro wrestling.

[/b]

“Hey!” Jamie came from out of his self absorbed thoughts with Chad snapping his fingers in his face. “I thought I lost you.”

Jamie said nothing really, just shook his head.

“Are you okay?” Chad asked, with the honest concern of a tried and true friend. Jamie looked at him and smiled, shielding everyone around him from just how miserable he felt. “I’m fine.”


There was just something … classical, about the majesty of a cage elevator. They were so old fashioned but they had charm and character. A flashback to days when things just seemed so much easier than they were currently. And in the brick loft building in which Jamie Dean called home, he took something akin to sanctuary in this ‘gilded cage’ of sorts as he rode up to his fourth floor loft.

Jamie simply remained there, in the shadows and feeling the depressive state threaten to engulf him like a suffocating shadow. He just sat there, with the Siamese curled up on his lap, his fingers idly scratching him under the chin, his eyes closed with a purring contentment. Jamie closed his own eyes and felt as if he might have dozed off under the strain of being emotionally tired rather than physically. He only ‘woke’ when the sound of his phone was going off from where it rested on the stand to the sofa’s immediate right.

He had strongly considered simply letting it go to voicemail when his eyes caught the name ‘Ben Jordan’ on the screen and he sighed. Try as he might to want to simply be left alone with his private thoughts, he could not ignore Ben. Thus, he leaned over at the waist and Anubis, at the indignity of being disturbed from his perch, hopped off of Jamie’s lap to the floor in search of something to better amuse the feline dignity. Jamie’s hands closed on the phone and he hit ‘answer’.

“Hello?” Jamie’s voice was tired, and he was certain Ben would be able to tell, even given the vast distance that lay between the two men.

“Well it’s about bloody time!” Ben barked from his end of the phone. “I’ve only been trying to get in touch for the last hour! Been calling your damn phone and you won’t pick up!”

Jamie frowned and withdrew the phone from his ear and looked at the screen, and it showed that he must have slept deeper than he thought as there were three missed calls from Ben. Jamie then set the phone to speaker and Ben's voice was continuing the friendly tirade. “...I  called Oasis and Kathy told me you weren’t there, that you had gone out with Chad so gave it some time to try again.”

“Sorry.” Jamie leaned back into the cushions of his sofa and rubbed his eyes, more so from the mental strain he had been feeling as opposed to trying to wipe the sleep from them. “Just been a long, hard couple of days.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben quipped, as was the nature of the friendship between the two. “What’s his name?”

“Oh ha ha.” Jamie half mumbled. “I should be so lucky.”

Jamie then righted himself and sat up, his fingers clasped together from both hands and rested on his bent knees. “Never mind, Ben. What’s going on … and why are you still up? It has to be …”

“Eight a.m.?” Ben finished, and Jamie could just sense the smile on his buddy’s face. “Mate, I’ve been up, got in my run and having breakfast. If anything, I should ask why you’re not asleep? Or at the very least, shackin’ up with the barkeep?”

Jamie closed his eyes, the sad smile on his face as he shook his head briefly. If Ben only knew.

“I was asleep.” Jamie then pointed out. “Remember? You woke me up.”

“Hunh…. Right.” Ben responded, realizing Jamie had caught him. “Anyway, about why I’m calling…”

“Oh are we getting to that, are we?”

“Shaddap! Mark Ward was trying to contact you for a few days now. Didn’t have much luck so he got in touch with me and asked me to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Ben said, “To tell you they need you in Pennsylvania. You got another chance at the gold.”

Jamie had slowly been rising from his seat to retrieve something to snack on, when he froze in mid crouch. He turned his head to the phone with a disbelieving frown. He said, “Say what now?”

---

We find ourselves back to the industrial loft home owned by the former Sin City Wrestling Superstar, Jamie Dean. But this time we were not visiting on the inside as a guest, but watching on the outside. More specifically, on his seldom used patio from four stories up. It had originally been a ‘fire escape’ during the building’s prime when first constructed, but upon his purchase and the realization fire escapes were as passe as phone books and wearing underwear … ahem.

Jamie has turned the iron railed structure into a cozy little retreat where he could sit and overlook the cityscape that surrounded his building. That was where we found him as he sat under the sunset and colorful skies, wearing a floral print button down, white shorts and his eyes hidden behind a pair of shades.

“Fresh Faces Battle Royal… ha!”

“I’ll be the first to tell the world that despite my rising age, that I am still adorable as all Hell. But, I’d hardly call myself ‘fresh faced’. Of course, I could easily say the same about one or two others in this match but I’m not the sort to just talk trash about random individuals.”

Jamie snorts back a restrained laugh but soon loses his control and leans back, his head tilted almost the entire way back and he just laughs uproariously. After several moments in wait, he finally calms himself and wipes a false tear from his eye and waves a hand at the camera.

“No, no. It’s alright. That one was just for me. I mean, talking shit is pretty much the trademark of gays the world over. After all, we invented it! So if I tend to go off the rails here tonight, I’m hoping you’ll understand. It’s just in my nature to be catty.”

Jamie set his mint iced tea down on the tray and leaned back in his chair, exhaling gently as he surveyed the world beyond him and all the possibilities that were there throughout.

So I thought when Shay Owens and I went down … pun not intended, in this year’s tournament, I felt that everything had been for naught. Big word, I know, but it fits. I thought my so-called return after a decade away that it was time wasted. I had friends who were excited to see how far we’d make it. The kids at Oasis were the most excited. They watched Ben compete all the time and that fact alone made him a legend in their eyes, especially when he turns up to help out and they just look at the man in amazement, like they couldn’t believe someone like him, a genuine celebrity, was as down to earth as he had come to be known as. The man would sit at their bedsides to talk, help them with homework and regularly took them out shopping so they could have something to call their own. But me…? Aside from the original Oasis kids, they never really got to see me save for streaming videos of some of my matches when I was active way back when. That was why when they found out I would be wrestling, they went through the roof. They were legit excited and were hamming it up about how I’d make it to the finals and eventually get my hands on that elusive singles championship.”

He chuckled sally, running his hand through his hair.

“So imagine their surprise - and disappointment - when Shay and I didn’t even make it out of the opening round. Just like that…”

He snapped his fingers.

“Snuffed out, just like that. The only saving grace I suppose is that I wasn’t there to see their reactions. I can’t imagine it was very pretty, and to this day, I have trouble handling whenever one of these kids experiences disappointment. Let alone the entire group. So once it was all said and done, I was ready to just dust myself off and get back to the work that matters most to my heart when lo and behold, I get a call from Saint Ben.”

“Imagine my surprise that my Blast From the Past contract actually had a stipulation that I was contractually obligated to a follow up match of the bosses' choosing, should I be eliminated early. And considering the hell booking must be when this many top stars are otherwise engaged, they had to do something to determine the next challenger for the World Heavyweight Championship. I mean, that is one of the perks of the entire tournament, yes? A chance at the World title, held right now by Beetlejuice - I mean, Finn Whelan. So why not give some of the guys eliminated early in the tournament a second chance in a Battle Royal?”

Jamie shrugged exaggeratedly with his bottom lip jetted out.

“If I’m going to be honest, I’m experiencing a bit of deja vu here, because I was in one - only one - Battle Royal before in my career and yes, I did win, and the prize was the same then as this one is now. An opportunity to challenge for the World Championship. Nobody, and I say that in all seriousness, thought this gay party boy would have a chance against all of those big, bad Superstars but … I won. And I went on to challenge J2H for the championship and I do not mind admitting that I was thoroughly schooled. Humbled and humiliated would be an apt description of what happened in that title match but here I am again, history repeating itself in the lead up. But as for history repeating itself in the inevitable title clash?”

Jamie held up a finger and shook his head in the negative.

“That is one piece of history that will remain where it belongs; in the past. I’ll win the Battle Royal, but when I go on to look in the mirror and say Finn’s name three times to summon him for our title match, well I’ll just be shattering his reflection, everything he has, and his storied double title reign. But, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, aren’t I? There are six other guys that I have to go through if I have any hopes of even making it as far as Into the Void XIII, six guys who have as much chance at going the distance as I do. Well…”

Jamie paused in contemplation, then shook his head.

“No, I guess out of fairness I would have to say all six. After all, this isn’t just an ordinary wrestling match where wins and losses matter. This is a Battle Royal, where just avoiding getting thrown out of the ring is the key to victory. That, and a good deal of blowing up the skirt of Lady Luck. And nobody in this match has to rely more on luck than the hardcore fanatic, Justin Smith. I’ll be the first to admit that out of all the guys in this match, Justin seems to have lucked out the most in gaining one of the coveted spots. Oh sure, he made it farther in the tournament than I did, but that was more for the efforts of his partner than his own doing. But, to his credit, the guy is a pretty bad ass fighter and in a Battle Royal, that sort of tactic seems to be the best strategy to employ. And aside from Bill Barnhart, Justin would probably be the best brawler in this match. Still, taking the fight to everyone or hand picking one target at a time, that is just going to paint a target on Justin’s back and just like his name was the first in my long list of opponents, his name will also be the first to get tossed out of the ring and eliminated. Mark my words.”

“Then we have Teddy Warren, a man that is as confused about his sexual identity as a virgin in a prison rodeo. I don’t get this guy, I honest to god do not! He has come and gone from SCW more times than the crew that cleans the rings. I don’t even know why the man bothered to even sign up for the Blast From the Past in the first place. Even had his team gone the distance and won the whole thing, even if he had earned for himself a World title shot against Finn Whelan, he never would have made it as far as going to Pearl Harbor. Teddy’s commitment to this sport is erratic at best. He has proven it time and again; he shows up, starts to build some momentum for himself, and then he just up and …”

He snapped his fingers.

“Poof! Disappears without any explanation. The man has no goals, he has even less commitment. I mean, just look at his personal life. The man spent how long portraying himself as the RuPaul of SCW, then vanished. Then he starts fawning over Fenris every time the man showed off his bulge, even going so far as telling the world he’d give anything for one night with the man! Then all of a sudden, we’re expected to fall for this happy family man act that he has going on? His commitment to this new life of his is about as stable as his commitment to wrestling and SCW overall. If Fenris were to show him any interest, Teddy would be doing the full on cowgirl faster than you could say ‘Yippee Ki Yo, KY!’”

“Now the one person I am legit to see in this match was a guy I thought had all the potential in the world to go the distance, and would have were it not for an injury, is Caleb Storms. This kid had everything going for him - everything! But fate can be an outright bitch and that injury all but derailed everything that he had going for him then, and everything he could have accomplished since. I - just like everyone else out there - was shocked, surprised, when Caleb showed up from out of nowhere to announce he was back. For the tournament at least. It was disheartening to see him get jipped in the first round so I am glad to see him get this new chance, and I hope he makes the most out of it. I mean, I’m still planning on winning but I hope he sticks around after all this.”

“Now if there’s anyone else out there besides Justin that doesn’t fit the fresh face moniker, it would have to be ‘Bulldog’ Bill Barnhart. Now, this is the guy who lies more about his age than some old Southern belle from Atlanta. The guy continues to this day that he’s only in his thirties, meaning he wants the world to think that he’s younger than I am.”

Jamie pointed a finger at himself with a questioning look.

“Bill, you’re in your thirties about as much as I’m a Trump supporter. If anything, I’d say you’re the senior statesman of this match. THE veteran. Which isn’t a bad thing, but if I can admit my age, I should think you’d be able to do the same. You’ve done so much in this sport… so many championships recorded to your name and how many Hall of Fame inductions? Is the idea of you walking away from this match as the winner and being Finn’s next challenger really all that unbelievable?”

Jamie scrunched up his face in thought and then nodded.

“It really is!”

“Then we have who has to so far be the biggest disappointment in this match, a total washout and that’s even going so far as to include Justin Smith! And I’m talking about the so-called ‘Mister Golden Briefcase’ Rodrigo Afonso. Now I say so-called because even though he’s picked up a win here and there and bested some bright stars to get that name, has he really done anything - anything at all - to push it or himself? Rodrigo went so far as to outlast all those other guys to win the Briefcase, but he’s done nothing with it. Now I’m not suggesting he use it to cash in before he’s ready … but he hasn’t done anything to push the fact he won it at all! No interviews, no subtle threats, no getting in the face of any champions anywhere! He won it, and he’s been gliding along on the coattails of that win ever since. He thinks going into this match that his win then, will play a factor now.”

Jamie shook his head.

“It won’t. It’ll just make his early elimination all the more humbling for him, and all the more sweeter for the rest of us.”

“Now, we’re saving the best for last. Well, the cutest for last at any rate. The half-brother of an already established star in Miles Kasey, Lyle Kasey Junior. The fact that this young guy has shown up from out of nowhere and being the lost family of a popular fella like Miles makes Lyle here the sentimental favorite of the fans. True, Lyle has yet to secure that first win in his career, and his early elimination in the tournament is, like for many of us, the reason why he’s here now. And, as I stated before, your track record on paper isn’t as important in a Battle Royal so much as luck itself is. Staying away from the ropes, working together with someone else when it calls for it to get rid of a more dangerous or bigger opponent, etc. You could be the absolute greatest in the world and still be the first one out in a match like this simply because your track record worked against you. Your success rate made you a target early on. That’s not something Lyle has to worry about this time around and I don’t mean that in a bad way. Believe me! Lyle’s lack of that first big win works in his favor here, and with the fans behind him, he has perhaps the best chance out of anyone at walking away with this chance against Finn Whelan.”

Jamie then gave it thought.

“Second best chance. I still wouldn’t be Jamie Dean if I were to think any less of myself or my chances in this match. And I hate to toot my own horn but…”

***HOOOOOONNNK!!!!***

Jamie flinched and looked over the railing to the street below to see an eighteen wheeler roll past his building. He then sat back and looked into the camera, jetting as thumb in the direction of the truck.

“See? He agrees with me!”