Where have you gone Han Solo?

Have you ever wanted to be a movie hero? When I was a kid I wanted to be Luke Skywalker. I was, what, five or six when Star Wars hit the silver screen? That movie had a profound impact on me. On a lot of people as a matter of fact.
I wanted to be an astronaut after that.
I wanted to be a hero.
Raiders Of The Lost Ark was also another favorite.
Eventually I discovered that Han Solo was who I wanted to be. Dr. Jones. The hat, the leather jacket, the whip!?!
I mean come on! This is Doctor Henry Jones, PhD. we are talking about (who knew he was "Junior" back then right?). Did I mention the man had a whip and traveled the world finding the rarest of treasures, trailed by hot chicks (and the occasional orphan) and kicking the crap out of Nazis!?!
Women pretended they hated him and yet they were irresistibly drawn to him.
Moths to a flame, my friends.
They would smack him and he'd smile in that smirky sarcastic way, pull them real close while they pretended to struggle against him (feebly I might add - "What are you doing!?!? Wait! Oh my... a little to the left... ) and plant a big fat sloppy wet one on them.
And they were putty.
Putty I tell you!
Now I have never actually been slapped by a woman (though I got kicked once in the thigh in junior high, very traumatic – we’ll file that tale away for another blog...) but I have pissed a few chicks off in my day and I am sure they have wanted to smack the crap outta me. I have spontaneously kissed women once or twice in my day, but that’s not the same thing. Mostly I learned cool new ways to piss off members of the opposite sex as a teen.
And yes. I enjoyed every minute of it.
Why shouldn't I?
It's really the only weapon a man has against a woman. Physically, it’s not a fair fight. And that's ok. I'm not here saying that men are better than women or that women are better than men. We are different and that's why it works. Emotionally? Please. Men can't hope to compete in the waterworks department.
Really.
And it's just a little wrong to even try.
Seriously... a guy crying for attention?
"Why I outta pound you!"
Men crying should be treated as a myth, just like the myth of women farting. Women don't fart in case you didn't know, that's just an Urban Legend. In reality, they release beautifully scented pheromones and flowery fragrances that enthrall the senses and dull the mind. And their pooh doesn't smell either by the way (just ask them!)
Anyway.
Henry Jones, aka Indiana, aka Han Solo, was my hero growing up. I really started to appreciate Han Solo long after he had faded into pop culture, replaced by gaggles of metrosexuals characters, men that are sidekicks to the women, mere accessories.
Again, I am not saying that this is necessarily a bad thing.
There are some guys who are destined to be the handbag.
Captain Prada? The Fendi Kid?
Not me.
I can’t imagine being that way anymore.
But times have definitely changed and I find myself more and more alone these days. Like Shane on horseback, riding off into the sunset. My brothers would call me Captain Testosterone.
Like it’s a bad thing?
Now they are too busy plucking they eyebrows (don't get me started...)
Before you start calling me Captain Caveman, let me state the following for the record:
I’m sensitive.
I shed a tear or three at the end of The Notebook.
But I like grabbing a woman by the nape of the neck and planting a deep, penetrating, toe curling kiss on them.
(that last for three whole days...)
Just like that.
Bam.
(When wifey starts to go all Princess Leiah on me, I get all Han Solo on her – it’s fun, you should try it and if you can get your hands on the Jabba the Hut slave girl outfit? whoa…even better!)
But where in the blue hell did the 'Man's man' go? Where’s the guy that’s not afraid to grab his crotch in public, get pissed off when his favorite team loses the big game and spits and throws a punch when insulted and well...is glad to just be man. Show me the man who’s sensitivity is limited to kicks in the jimmy and when Old Yeller eats a bullet.
There are no John Waynes, no Cary Grants (who, I think, was the original metrosexual prototype yet somehow still managed to stay manly, God bless him!). Today we are stuck with Jimmy Fallon, Rosie O'Donnell (who is pretty manly) and Will Ferrell (who is freakin funny - I love the guy, really, just not in THAT way...) and Tom Cruise.
Tom Cruise!?!
Are you kidding me?
He’s what? Four foot, eleven? Sure he’s got a winning smile but I’ve eaten sandwiches bigger than him.
Brad Pitt?
Same thing.
Certifiable pretty boy. Cool guy to be sure, but still a pretty boy (although when he goes mental in movies its pretty freaking sweet - Remember Fight Club?).
In fact, any man that's been one of People Magazines 50 most beautiful people already has a strke against him.
Russell Crowe?
Ok. I’ll give you a pass on Crowe, Gladiator rocked and he had one of the coolest guy names of all time.
"My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next."
That was freaking cool...
But blast it all, I miss Han Solo, the insane grin on his face as he secretly hoped that the pile of scrap he was flying by the seat of his pants would hold together just a little while longer, the cocky self assurance, the sneer, the way Leiah worked overtime to convince her self that she hated him.
"You're a scoundrel!"
"You need more scoundrels in you life, your worship."
All the while he’s rubbing her hand and she turning to putty.
Putty I tell you!
Captain Solo is also responsible, in my humble opinion, for the greatest man's line in a film of all time. Solo's reply to the Princess as he is being lowered into the Carbonite freezing chamber (and please bear with my total fan boy, Star Wars geek moment - I swear I am not carrying a light saber or wearing jackboots and a blaster... honest!) was a defining moment in my young life.
The love theme from John Williams' musical score is building the tension as Han Solo, having been tortured by Darth Vader for no other reason than penis envy (hey sad clown? Did someone lost their Mister Winky in the fiery lake of lava?) is bound and resigned to his fate, forcibly pulled away from the Princess as they kiss.
She is heartbroken. (Daddy how could you!?!)
You know what? I just had a thought (scary huh?) What if Darth Vader had know that the fair Princess was, in fact, fruit of his loins? I can guarantee you that a flick of Vader's lightsaber would have taken care of Solo's, uh.... maverick spirit...
As a father with daughters, I will tell you that me no likey the bad boys. In fact I have a shotgun and a shovel for just such an emergency (but that's yet another blog).
You can see the fear in her eyes. She is afraid for him. Afraid that she will never see him again. (Afraid what Vader would do to him if he found out what they were doing in the Millenium Falcon's smugglers compartment...)
And in that moment, she realizes that she was afraid to admit how she really feels. The emotion builds within her stoic frame and she can no longer hold back the tears or the words. A crack in her tough facade develops and they escape; those three scary little words.
"I love you."
And what, pray tell, does our scoundrel, the irascible Captain Solo, say by way of reply? Exactly what a man’s man would have.
"I know."
Jumpin Jehoshaphat!.
How cool was that moment!?!
I had fully expected "I love you too." I was expected some sappy moment to develop and for him, finally hearing those words from the woman he loved, to just lapse into some namby pamby "I love you too" schpiel.
It's what I would have done if Brenda Colon (only the hottest girl in the sixth grade) had said yes to me when I asked her "Will you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to the dance?"
I Swear to Burger King.
That's exactly what I said! Word for word.
I know! I'd kick my ass too if I could.
You wanna know what she said?
"Uh, no."
And then she laughed derisively. Well, it sounded derisive. It could have been a girlish giggle at having been asked to the dance for all I know. What do you want from me? I was in the sixth grade!
Anyway.
I was completely flabbergasted when he smirked and said "I know" like he had won a bet with the Stormtroopers holding him captive.
"Psst. I bet you losers fifty bucks I get her to tell me she loves me."
"No way Solo. Not a chance in hell."
"C'mon you pansy. It's not like you're going to have to pay up anyway. I'm getting freeze dried in a minute. Sheesh"
Alright Solo, you're on."
"Suckers!!!!"
You know, just like Freddie Prinze in that teen movie with the ugly duckling girl thatnobody likes who suddenly turns into the hottie and...
Nevermind.
She fell for him like a ton of roasted Ewoks.
It took him a while to melt that Ice Princess down some. And he was human enough to not always be sure of the outcome.
"I don't know Luke, you think a girl like her and a guy like me could-"
"No. No I don't."
And then, just there, you see that sneer, that smirk, spread across his face like suntan oil on a supermodel, as he thinks to himself, "Oh yea. She soooooo wants me. Screw you farmboy..."
Now, as I look back I see that Luke was sipping the Haterade (it’s like hate flavored Gatorade, tastes great but leaves you all empty inside). A Jedi controls his emotions? Ha! That just means that they eat the crap people deal them and like it. You know, I could go off on that whole 'she was his sister' tangent but I will leave that for my Alabama rant.
Not Solo.
He was undeterred.
He smirked.
And do you know why? Because he won! He knew it and she knew it. Game over man, game over! He had been a bad boy. Rude, crude and just cocky enough to annoy the living piss out of a Princess.
Damn he's good!
And she wanted him. She craved him like fat kids do cake.
What a rapscallion!
I’m not even sure what that means but it sounds really cool and makes me think of Errol Flynn and Robin Hood and Pirates for some inexplicable reason. I need to swing from a rope and wave a sword or something.
I realized, just as his smiling face dissapeared into the fog of carbonite gasses, that women get bored very easily with the goody-two-shoes guys (like I was way back when). They respond much more favorably to the bad boys and tough guys. Not fake tough guys like Fonzie and Michael Knight (seriously... the effeminite sounding K.I.T.T. was more macho than he was). He was a tough guy like Charles Bronson, Bruce Lee, Magnum, P. I., The Terminator and Laurence Fishbourne (Neo? Neo!?! Screw Neo...)
Now it took me while to hone my Solo powers. they are just like Jedi powers except you are more likely to have sex. Generating excess levels of testosterone and all around manliness doesn't happen overnight. The process was not without pitfalls and setbacks. It was, at times, painful and humiliating (there are scars on the heart of Solo and well, lets just say I know why…). Women are a most dangerous adversary. But you live and you learn, as the saying goes. I think I am a better man for it.
Now if I can only find me a Wookie for a first mate and a pile of Nazi Storm troopers to beat the snot out of.
Where’s my whip?