Throb.

Man of Steel.

I saw him. It. I saw it.

Husband “warned” me that there was some theoretical hotness. He doesn’t actually feel qualified to measure such things, but said there may be some shirtlessness and so forth. I explained to him (again) that for me, beautiful men on screen are just an exercise in Art Appreciation. I look, I enjoy, I may even comment. Art appreciation. That is what we have.

And I was appreciating some Superman art today.

Throb.

(Did anyone else notice certain scenes in which Henry Cavill looks a lot like Christopher Reeve? I’m sure that was on purpose. Or a young, hotter-than-actual-history John Travolta? I think it’s the chin.)

I prefer the beard (which is totally out of character for me) and the messy hair (which is precisely up my alley).

Oh, and the movie was pretty good, too. Very non-subtle Christianity themes (win!). And lucky Superman getting Russell Crowe as Space Dad and Kevin Costner (on a farm! where his acting is nearly believable!) as Earth Dad. But way violent. Too much violent for my taste — exhausting fighting from my leaned-back theatre seat. Amy Adams was cute and perky and somehow believable as Lois. And hey — Lois worked as a name. Also, they told the story backward, which was a cool choice. I loved the end. A whole lot. (It wasn’t a surprise ending at all, just a perfect one for me.)

Also, did I mention? Throb.