It was midnight.

Armed with snacks and espresso martinis, we started our wrestle-watching marathon, which opened with the WWE Women’s World Championship between Rhea Ripley (the terrifying one, above) and Becky “the Man” Lynch (the redhead).

I was a bit disappointed that one of the main events for the top women wrestlers was happening so early in the extravaganza — it was almost like they were being treated as a warm-up.

But they went hard:

Last year, WrestleMania had record takings of $21.6 million in ticket sales and $20 million in sponsorship, according to The Hollywood Reporter.

That’s not counting sales for merchandise (up 20% in 2023, per the Hollywood Reporter), plus the wider business — such as subscriptions on Peacock’s WWE Network, or ticket sales for the more workaday shows, where stars tour around the country.

In its 2023 annual report to investors, WWE said that its live business slowed in the pandemic.

But it appears that the boom times are back.

Over the weekend, WrestleMania shattered its own records for attendance, merch sales and social media views, Variety reported.

For some fights, I found myself more excited by the entrances than the slugfests themselves.

Not everyone dresses as wildly as Becky Lynch or Seth Rollins (above), but either way it’s clear that there’s no point entering this arena if you’re not going to create a buzz.

Whether it’s a primal battle cry (Roman Reigns), a special tool (Bianca Belair’s whip-like braid), or just yelling “yeah!” at the end of every sentence (LA Knight) — having a “thing” is clearly a massive boon for a WWE fighter’s bankability.

I started mulling over my “thing” and how I could get it recognized among friends, family, and colleagues.

Early on, it was clear that announcer Samantha Irvin does her job like her life depends on it.

The way she bellowed “Hh-Rrrromannnn Hh-Reeeeeeeeeeeignns” in the clip below is forever seared into my soul.

The 6-pack ladder match, in which fighters scrambled to retrieve prize belts suspended from the ceiling, answers the age-old question: What if wrestling, but with ladders?

Watching fighters splat into things and each other — multiple times over and in seemingly endless variations — had me permanently wincing, while also being completely in awe of the athleticism involved.

Looked at one way, the main fight of the weekend — between good guy Cody Rhodes and bad guy Roman Reigns — could be seen as a fake dust-up between two equally ludicrous men.

Alternatively, it’s the culmination of a heroic destiny against terrible forces that was years — nay, decades — in the making.

Recapping the Rhodes/Reigns beef here would be like trying to retell all the Game of Thrones books, but suffice to say, it’s very important to my boyfriend right now that Rhodes swipes the title from Reigns.

Rhodes, as the catchphrase goes, has to “finish the story.”

Two cocktails deep and easily suckered by big storytelling, I, too, am thoroughly invested.

And while we all know the fights are fixed, it’s still a matter of genuine suspense as to what will actually happen, and how it will play out.

Saturday night’s fixture was the first of two — this one was to determine the rules of Sunday’s biggest championship title.

If Rhodes (a good guy) wins on Saturday, he’ll be promised something like a straight fight on Sunday.

If he loses, it’ll be a free-for-all, and Reigns (a bad guy) can bring the Bloodline — his gang of goons — into play, including The Rock.

Saturday’s fight was a tag-team match, where each fighter brings a partner (Seth Rollins for Rhodes; The Rock for Reigns).

It was pretty obvious to me by now that Rhodes would lose, so as to amp up the stakes for Sunday.

But easily the best part was when Reigns accidentally attacked the Rock instead of Rhodes, leaving The Rock rolling about on the floor like a giant baby:

Let’s be clear — some of the fights were overly chaotic, or had so many pauses for action replays that I became distracted by my phone and started scrolling.

But, with Cody Rhodes in so much trouble, there was no doubt in my mind that I had to come back for the second night to find out his fate.

We spent most of Sunday napping and eating junk food ahead of the big showdown.

Prime — the official hydration drink of WrestleMania 40 — got excellent representation, with fighters continually crashing into the Prime Hydration Station, or rolling in agony on the Prime logo in the middle of the ring.

In a nod to his status as a vaguely unbearable influencer, Logan Paul also showed up on Sunday night riding a Prime car and dancing with a full-size Prime mascot.

The mascot turned out to be YouTuber IShowSpeed, who then got booted by Randy Orton, completing WrestleMania’s Prime-ception.

Partway through, I realized there are only so many times I can watch one man stomp another man’s ankle.

But what really kept me hooked well into Sunday were the plot twists — like what happened to bad-guy Scotsman Drew McIntyre during the World Heavyweight Champion match.

McIntyre duly won the title. But he foolishly began flaunting his win to an injured wrestler, CM Punk, with whom he clearly has beef.

CM Punk whipped off his arm brace and beat him up with it, leaving the champ whimpering.

Then — just as you think he’s been stomped on enough — this guy shows up.

Plot twist! According to the incomprehensible rules of WWE, this fighter — Damian Priest — had, some time ago, won something called “Money in the Bank,” represented by the above briefcase.

That gives him the right to challenge anyone for a championship fight — and he drags McIntyre into the ring.

I literally, physically, embodied the scream-face emoji.

Now Priest was whooping McIntyre out of his championship belt just minutes after he won it.

I hated McIntyre. Now I want to hug him. It’s a roller coaster.

Obviously they are very different kinds of shows. But watching The Rock in his bad-guy persona made me realize that the skill isn’t just in the fights: it’s also in working a crowd.

The Rock is clearly a pro at this. The more he strutted in the ring, the more joyfully the anti-Rock faction of the crowd yelled “Rocky sucks!” And when he was finally beaten, the happier they were, too.

The good guy/bad guy (or, in proper wrestling parlance, “face/heel”) dynamic made it way easier for me to pick a side and become invested in any given fight.

Now I think of it, The Rock would make an incredible pantomime dame.

Attempting to recap this fight would be chaos, but from what I could tell, it was a greatest-hits show of some of the biggest names in wrestling, all showing up to provide plot twist upon plot twist.

John Cena ran on like a teenager! One Bloodline guy fought his own brother! And — with all the lights going out — the Undertaker showed up and faced down The Rock! All these things, I am told, are a big deal.

But finally, it was just Rhodes facing down Reigns.

On Monday evening, I found myself desperately wanting to see where things would go next.

What would happen to Roman Reigns and the Bloodline now? Will bad-girl group Damage CTRL continue causing chaos? Will Seth “Freakin'” Rollins recover from all his injuries?

Even though I’ll never quite have a taste for people cartoonishly lamping each other, what has hooked me is how endlessly, spectacularly, and wittily the ancient grudges can be folded in on each other, and the stories reworked.

So, yes, while I’m not planning on shelling out my hard-earned cash for the WWE Network just yet, you can say a little bit of my fighter was awoken during the long weekend nights.