I never told my therapist about my botched attempt at lesbianism. I didn’t want her to think I was crazy. Instead, I devoted a complete session to divulging the details of my relationship with Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. Dwayne might not have known the exact depth of our relationship but I was fully devoted to my crush as it served as a giddy escape from my current reality.
But this wasn’t a crush without merit, mind you. We actually used to work together back when the WWF was the WWF and not the WWE. Yep, that’s where the sparks first flew. I landed a brief but memorable spot as a WWF dancer; traveling along the East Coast with legends like The Rock, Steve Austin, Vader, Undertaker, Mankind ,Chyna and Triple H. I had the distinction of being a Flash Funk Funkette. Of course, when I booked the gig, I had absolutely no idea what that meant. All I knew was that, along with another NY Knick City Dancer, I’d earn a cute little paycheck for simply escorting this “Flash Funk” dude into the ring, dancing a couple of eight-counts and removing his pimp gear before he commenced to laying a smack-down. Beyond that information I was completely ignorant of this wildly popular phenomenon and multi-million dollar industry; fueled by packed arenas of passionate, boisterous and die-hard fans. Hmph, and I thought NY sports fans were intense.
The wrestlers were MASSIVE and had dynamic personalities to match. They were just as skilled at hurling verbal threats of intimidation as they were at catapulting their bodies from opposite sides of the ring and onto their opponent's head with a big, resounding thud that would send the crowd into a roar of colorful expletives. This WWF virgin was overawed by this raucous commotion of a sport. I remember the 1st time we entered the arena to perform: Me and my girl were decked out like blaxploitation hoes (mom would be so proud!) in neon green unitards and white go-go boots. In true pimp fashion, Flash Funk sported us proudly on his arm; wearing a fur coat, thick gold chains and a hat tipped to the side. I was completely blindsided by the fury of flashing lights, the blaring music, the deafening howl of the crowd, and the fans that were up and out of their seats like they were gonna charge the ring. But that’s all I remember from our 1st performance. Who knew wrestling was so huge? Not me! The WWF had officially slipped me a micky and popped my cherry.
Backstage offered a rare view of the superhero without his suit. The high voltage energy of their wrestling alter-egos suddenly defused into normalcy. Nevertheless, I proceeded into this brand new territory with extreme caution. I had thankfully been forewarned by a WWF ref that these wrestler dudes had a penchant for hardcore pranks; the kind that make you run home crying to mommy. Being the new girl and all (& admittedly naive), I decided to watch my back. So, I maintained a friendly but safe distance from the wrestlers; even when The Rock persistently tried to step to me with a little game. My girl thought I was a fool for playing hard to get. In retrospect, so do I! He was undeniably HOT, yet disarmingly charming. But, I had a boyfriend at the time. Had I known said “boyfriend” was spreading his seed all over NYC, things might've turned out differently. But, this Little Miss Goody Two Shoes insisted on playing it coy and maintaining my damn virtue while convincing myself there couldn't have been more to The Rock than just the “people’s elbow”. But, when he wasn’t looking, I would secretly salivate over his enormously muscular frame in those cute little man panties.
But, my WWF gig was temporary and I had no other choice but to walk away with unfulfilled curiosity. And despite all that energy spent feigning disinterest,I was hoping to somehow remain unforgettable. But time passed and I actually forgot about The Rock. The next few years of my life turned into world tours, music videos and torrid affairs that ended in predictable disappointment. By the time I hit my early 30s I was grounded, ridiculously in love, married and living in LA.
A few years into my marriage, I was pleasantly surprised to see The Rock at the Taurus Stunt Awards. He was hosting. I was performing. He was hotter than ever, totally charismatic and... too far away to say "hi". I doubt he even recognized me so completely out of context. Just as years had transformed him from WWE wrestler to Hollywood actor; I had transformed from WWE dancer to aerial stunt artist. My curiosity resurfaced. Part of me wanted a little taste of what I had missed back in the day. Instead, I simply confessed my “innocent little celebrity crush” to my husband and tried my best not to fantasize about him during sex.
Then, I saw him again! It was at a Santa Monica gym where his eyes met mine in the mirror with (what I interpreted as) curious recognition. Even as he cranked out a set of shrugs with the heaviest dumb-bells on the rack, he managed to smile at me. Who cares if he only smiled 'cause he caught me like a deer in headlights! I reciprocated with a smile; completely defying my nerves and weak knees with surprising composure. I did everything in my power to remain standing and not pass out at the sheer proximity of his sweat-glistened, chiseled body and perfect smile that transported me back to the mid 90s. I would’ve let him take me right there on the decline bench, if it wasn't for my married status. Temptation is such a bitch! I wanted to climb “The Rock” like a jungle gym.
But that’s not the last time I saw him! When I eventually became the Pilates Manager at a gym in the Valley, guess who showed up? Yep, The Rock, of course. Was the Universe trying to point me toward my destiny? Did it know that I'd soon be dumped by my husband and The Rock and I could finally finish what we could've started over a decade ago? Like clockwork, we’d "meet" at the gym every morning. He’d hop on an elliptical machine strategically (I imagined) located within direct view of the Pilates studio. How was I to concentrate on my client’s “powerhouse” when his eyes were (seemingly) fixed on me during his hour-long cardio session? By the time he moved onto weights I was between clients and took my turn working out (read: showing off) on the treadmill. Wearing a cleavage-baring Lululemon sports bra (w/ a little padded support) and my low-rise leggings; I bumped some old-school Hip-Hop on my iPod and began my show. I wanted him to see what my body looked like when it glistened with sweat. I wanted him to see that my intense discipline could match his. That I, too, am a serious athlete! So, whenever he walked in my direction, I cranked up the speed from a comfy 6.0 to something insane like a 10.0! Me and my 5’3” frame sucked it up and battled it out until he looked away and I could hop to safety on the treadmill’s frame, gasp for air and quickly recover before keeping up my little charade. I hope he wasn’t on to me. But who really cares? Because, before you knew it, we were reminiscing over WWE memories.