Last summer, my student assistant Noah and I went down to the mall bookstore; he wanted to buy something, I forget what, and I just wanted to browse. He came up empty, but I came up with an old DC Comics World’s Finest anthology, with Superman and Batman in color on the cover. I could tell Noah, when he saw me holding it, was withholding judgment. (Do I need to tell you that he was more than thirty years younger than me?)
“I can’t help it,” I said defensively. “I used to love these comics when I was a kid. I still do. It’s like comfort food.”
“Yeah,” he said unconvincingly. “I understand.”
No, he didn’t. But maybe he will in thirty years.
Okay. So Partner and I were in Universal last month, and there are X-Men and Marvel characters running around all over the place. Partner kept photobombing them: I have pictures of him sneaking up behind the Green Goblin, and Rogue, and Storm, while they were being photographed with other people.
Then we found Cyclops!
You could tell, even under the costume, that this guy was cute. The suit had built-in muscles, and that stupid visor covered most of his face, but sometimes you can just tell.
Partner saw his chance. “Who is he?” he said, trembling.
“Cyclops,” I said. “Go pose with him. Oh, and call him ‘Scott.’ It’s his real name. He’ll like that.”
“What do you mean, his real name?”
“He’s Cyclops,” I said impatiently. “It’s his secret identity. If you call him ‘Scott,” he’ll know that you’re a real insider.”
So he made friends with Cyclops (see above picture).
He was giggling as we walked away. “I said, ‘Thanks, Scott!’ And he liked it!”
So: do you see the benefits of having a nerd for a wife?
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