Fear Not, Spidey, I've Not Forgotten You

Comic books don’t sit unread for very long in this household. Whenever a new issue arrives, the first page is usually read during the walk between my mailbox and my couch. With my vision obstructed, this is one of those moments where constant preaching about keeping errant Lego blocks off the floor really pays off.

Occasionally, I’ll be in the middle of something and will drop a comic book on a table to get to as soon as I have a free moment. In the meantime, each pass I make through the room in which it rests involves me staring at it. It calls to me like the beating of that hideous heart hidden beneath the floor boards.

The longest I will usually go in possession of the latest delivery without reading it is a few hours. If it’s my wife’s day off, I will tend to delay out of respect for her. Come to think of it, I don’t think she really cares. After all, she’s the one who encouraged me to subscribe to the comic books I’m currently getting. I just seem to have an aversion to reading comic books in the presence of a female. Comic books and spending time with a woman seem to be contradictory to one another in my mind. I’m not sure what I’m afraid of. Do I think that if see actually sees me with my face buried in a comic book, she’ll think I’m a dork? Like she hasn’t figured that out already.

One of my usual techniques to get comic reading time is the bathroom break. If the opportunity to hide somewhere and read the issue isn’t immediately available, within half an hour I usually need to go to the bathroom. This gives me all the time I need and I would dare say close to fifty percent of my comic books are read there. Of course, my eldest brother may want to be aware of this before he borrows any more back issues from me. I’ve actually pondered sitting down for all my bathroom needs like women have to. I’d be practically unstoppable. Then I decided I couldn’t live with myself. Take away a man’s ability to pee standing up and what does he have left?

Anyway, lately, my role as a father leaves me without time to read the most recent episode in the lives of my favorite Marvel heroes. This has lead to some marathon delays in reading. I actually had three separate comic book titles that sat on my desk for three days before I got around to hunkering down with a beer and a bowl of pretzels and reading them. I was busy attending baseball games, helping with homework, running errands. I was ashamed of myself.

When I don’t read my newest comics immediately, I feel like I’m letting the super heroes contained within the pages down. I feel as if they are relying on me to move their lives forward. Without my reading their tales, they are trapped in suspended animation. Furthermore, there are friends of mine who do not have the luxury of subscribing to multiple comic books without facing ridicule. They depend upon my synopsis and then loaning of the comics to them. When I get delayed, they get delayed. You see, reading them in a timely manner isn’t just about me. It’s a rather selfless act. I’m practically donating my time to a cause. I have the greater good in mind.

Well, not that I don’t enjoy writing here, but the latest issue of The Amazing Spider-Man has been calling to me for the last twelve hours or so. I’ve decided I’m going to end this post as suddenly and awkwardly as a Saturday night Live sketch so I can get around to it.