I want to hate Logan Paul
I want to hate Logan Paul.
I thought my special interest was safe.
One of them, anyway.
I mean, wrestling.
Athletes in spandex in a kinetic soap opera.
Far from the zeitgeist of clout and clicks.
Then 2022 happened.
WrestleMania 38.
And there’s Logan Paul, in kit that looks like someone saw Bumblebee and went, “But what if he was a wrestler?”
Wait.
The guy who tased dead rats.
That Logan Paul?
What’s he doing in the middle of my thing?
I thought I was doing this right.
Avoiding YouTubers, streamers, influencers.
Off in a corner of the world where that wouldn’t intrude.
No way he’s going to be…any good, right?
Because D-Von Dudley knows his wrestling.
So does Eric Bischoff.
And judging from the parade of WWE talent that shows up on Paul’s podcast, they’re not alone.
He’s good.
Really good.
And works hard.
Respects the business.
Still.
Maybe he’s a heartless asshole to his girlfriend.
The kind of guy who’d just toss her a ring like it’s a Prime t-shirt.
Oh good, there’s a longer version.
At one point, just before he pops the question, whatever hate I had in my heart evaporated when she sees he’s having actual feelings, and she asks him what he’s “emotioning” right now.
My wiring sparked at the made up word, but.
What. The. Hell.
Because if I hate him in that moment, what I’m saying is that no one who’s that successful, that wealthy, deserves to have feelings like the rest of us.
Yes, he’s having them on the shores of Lake Como.
But.
If I believe that we’re all just here to walk each other home, then what I feel isn’t hate.
Because he’s found his person.
Doesn’t mean there’s a happily ever after.
Just that now.
We all deserve that kind of happiness.
Even.
Logan.
“The Maverick”.
Paul.