Up, up and away!- Femina

I don’t know about you, but I’m a sucker for a man in uniform. Make that form-fitting spandex, throw in a cape and my knees go to jelly. And no, I’m not some sort of weirdo, it’s just that Superman and I go back a long way.

I must have been about nine years old when it started: My mother would insist the lights be out by 10 pm and I would dutifully kiss her good night. Ten minutes later, I’d be under the covers with my father’s emergency torch and the latest DC comic, alone with my hero in a magical, sleep-smelling world. Together we would fight terrifying villains and save humanity, usually before page 50. We shared a special bond, Superman and I: I knew his secret identity and he knew that I often stayed up till 2 am. And neither of us would ever tell.

As I got older, I wondered what it was that fuelled all those elaborate adolescent fantasies. (I must admit that although Superman was the first, he wasn’t the only - Batman, Spiderman, even Johnny from Fantastic Four were all notches on my imaginary bedpost). Perhaps it was their sense of otherness - of being a freak (but a good freak) -that I identified with. Or perhaps it was that they promised to protect me in the face of whatever might arise; to always do the right thing by me, as so few men in the real world would.

Maybe it’s that they’re good guys, but they get to do all the things that bad boys traditionally do - lie about their activities, pretend to be someone they’re not, get into brawls, etc. Or perhaps it was just that we shared a secret. I imagined myself as Mrs Batman, icing bruises and mending a tattered cape. What a sense of power to know that the caped crusader that criminals all over the city fear is actually eating chappatis that I’ve rolled!

Come on, how can you dispute the fact that life would be so much more interesting if your significant other could fly. I mean, think of all the vacations you could take without ever having to drink another watery airline coffee! And that heat vision sure could come in handy - an impromptu barbecue in the park; your bathwater always just right. You’d never have to struggle home laden with groceries or do any sort of heavy lifting. And if you were married to Spiderman, you’d never have to clean your windows again - it would be his chore. Plus, imagine the look on your girlfriends’ faces when you show up at a party in the Batmobile!

I mean, I just can’t imagine that Batman would come home from ‘work’ and chuck his socks about the room. Or that Peter Parker would spend 48 straight hours on the couch, beer in hand, yelling at the TV during cricket season.

Of course, there is a rather large flip side to dating a superhero. Having your husband run off to save the world AGAIN in the middle of dinner could get pretty annoying. And I wouldn’t want to be the one calling the auto insurance company for the Batmobile. And unless your job is fairly nocturnal, you’d spend a lot of time in an empty bed fretting about kryptonite and flame-throwing robots.

Oh, and if I were dating a superhero, there’d be strict rules about X-ray vision at the beach! Worst of all, there’s the issue of worrying about your spandex sweetie running off with one of those gorgeous female superheroes. I mean, I’m all right to look at but whoever was drawing me used too much of his crayon while doing my lower half and not nearly enough on top. I couldn’t compete with someone whose work outfit consists of sparkly hot pants, and whose first name is ‘Wonder’.

Hmm, perhaps it’s not so bad to be hitched to He-who-disapproves-of-shoe-shopping. At least when I smack him on the head for leching, it’ll hurt! And while his body may not be spandex-ready, at least he wears his underwear on the inside. He may not be dashing or able to outrun anything faster than a toddler, but he performs the most super heroic of all tasks on a daily basis - he puts up with me!

Now if only I could get Superman to do that thing where he flies at super speed around the Earth to turn back time, this article would be on time!