For me, the choice would be anything but easy. I guess I’d have to start by ruling out Batman and Robin, despite the hot costumes and the action-packed utility belts. Even if they had an open relationship, I’m just not that kind of a guy. How about Aquaman, then? I’ve got four words for you— I . . . don’t . . . eat . . . fish. Superman could be an interesting choice. He’s smart, strong, brooding, and a fan of lycra. But, on the other hand, he’s a space alien prone to freaking out whenever he gets too close to red kryptonite. Not a good fit, I’m afraid. Besides, “Superman IV, The Quest for Peace” put the green kryptonite to my Superman fantasies back in 1987.
Okay, so I’m running out of talent here. Running . . . now, who does that remind me of? Of course, there’s The Flash. He’s definitely a looker, but who wants to date a nanosecond man? Not me. There’s Hawkman, but something about his personality makes me think he might really be more of a Chickenhawkman. I don’t qualify for that. Wow, faster than a speeding bullet, I’m already down to the second-tier heroes. Let’s see, no one can possibly measure up to Apache Chief if he decides to go all “eh-neek-chock” on you, and Samurai is always passing wind. Gross. This just isn’t working out. I need to stop now before I’m left with nothing but Gleek—an outcome that would definitely make me take the form of a very disappointed man.
But maybe my focus is wrong. Maybe I should think more about the man behind the mask and how I could be his sidekick. As for my own special powers, I’d list: (1) the creative ability to paint Fauvist abstracts, write plays, and do a mean Garth Brooks imitation; (2) the talent to pull off a secret identity as the CrossFitting love child of Neil Patrick Harris and Bob Harper; (3) the knack for traveling the world, uncovering culinary masterpieces, and replicating the meals at home; and (4) the stubborn tenacity of a smart, farm-raised southern boy to live by the ideas that men should be men, relationships are built on mutual respect, and everything is a little better with imagination and a cocktail.
And, as for my boy wonder, I think that he would have to be someone who is: (1) smart and funny enough to laugh at American Dad and discuss string theory with me during the commercials; (2) very fit and athletic, but not likely to drown in his reflection; (3) curious about the world and eager to explore different places and cultures; and (4) content just to slip into his secret identity and stroll through the Georgia Aquarium with me, occasionally bumping shoulders and smiling at the contact.
You know, that’s the guy who could make me forget about all those capes and tights and Wonder Twin powers.
That’s the guy who would be my hero.