It’s a well hidden fact that at some point (usually multiple points) every guy in the world has imagined himself as some kind of incredible, purely-by-chance hero. The scenario goes like this (and I’m talking about most guy’s here):
You’re sitting in a boring class where the teacher is droning on about math or some such junk. Suddenly an armed gunman bursts through the door. Everyone dives below their desk, but not you. With the speed of a lightning bolt you charge forward, knocking the gun out of gunman’s hand. He tries to fight you, but in a split second you knock him unconscious. Your entire class goes wild and the girls swoon.
Later, you’re asked by a national news reporter what was going through your head. You reply with something completely badass and women all over the country swoon. Then you walk into the sunset, but don’t worry, you’ll be back for those women. All of them.
That’s it, an adolescent power-trip. As a superhero, doing things a teenager thinks makes women swoon is actually your job, and that’s pretty cool to imagine.
Of course, I think our obsession with superheroes is a lot deeper than this.