Super-heroes I'm Mildly Embarrassed to Have the Hots For #1
Okay, it goes without saying that I -- and anyone else who has the hots for a comic book character -- should be embarrassed about it. But, of course, we're not.
And who can blame us? Unlike celebrity crushes, our crushes (on average) don't get any older, never get fat or have bad breath, are always available, and can be ours on a weekly basis for around three bucks. Sure, they're occasionally mind-controlled into murderous rages, deformed by bizarre secondary mutations, or the victims on astonishingly unwise costume re-designs. But no one's perfect.
Even so, there are some you're supposed to have crushes on -- the Dick Graysons and Hal Jordans of the world, the ones all the comic-book-reading cheerleaders giggle about in the girl's lockerroom -- and others you aren't supposed to have crushes on, the ones we skinny girls secretly moon over in art class.
Here's one I've never admitted in public...
Cannonball (Sam Guthrie)
I'm not embarrassed because he was probably underage when I first met him in the original X-Factor in, what was it, 1986. See, cuz now that makes him 21, so it's cool. Yes; that's how that works.
I'm not embarrassed because he's a backwood hick with what is surely an earthy smell. That doesn't embarrass me. Any more. You never met my ex, Roy, whose only comment during our first visit to the National Gallery of Art was, "So, are all them the originals?" True story.
I'm not embarrassed because he's not classically handsome and has a wild, unkempt haystack of hair. I've always been more drawn to intriguing faces than generically handsome ones (it's a moody art-class girl thing).
I'm not embarrassed because he's in skin-tight black spandex and leather with a studded collar, while sporting continual face scruff and disproportionately large hands. Actually, that's really hot.
No, I embarrassed because he's.... MARVEL.
Oh, well; no one's perfect.