The End of the World is Near
or
What I will be doing on May 26

I admit it. For about three awkward prepubescent years, I was a comic book geek. I got into comic books around Grade 7 and it lasted through Grade 9. From ages 10-13, I marveled at the world of Marvel, propped up my low self-image with Image, and dissed anything DC. I thoroughly enjoyed the pages of X-Men, X-Factor, Uncanny X-Men (different team from X-Men), Spawn, Wild C.A.T.S., West Coast Avengers, and What If… My idea of a constructive Sunday was riding my bike to the comic book store and spending hours sifting through the $1.00 comic discount boxes. In fact, the highlight of my week the first year I moved to Texas, when I had hardly any friends, was when my mother took me to the store to pick up my weekly allotment of books.

Yes, I know this sounds pathetic, which is why I quit collecting comic books the moment I realized that I’d never score a girlfriend if I continued to look forward to the latest Wolverine-Ghost Rider crossover. I cancelled my subscription box at the comic store and immediately got a subscription to Rolling Stone. It changed my life. Now I have five VDs.

No, not really. Please don't listen to Library Girl. Seriously.

Although I left the superheroes and supervillians behind, I still carry a little torch for those times. Every once in awhile, it's allowed to manifest itself in the form of comic book movies. I am usually the sucker that pays to see a comic book adaptation, no matter how bad I know it’s going to suck. I was there for Daredevil, The Fantastic Four, and even League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

However, some great, critically acclaimed movies were worthwhile: the first two Spider-Man movies, the Tim Burton- and Christopher Nolan-directed Batman flicks, the first two Superman movies, and of course, the X-Men films.

So, it was especially hard to hide the fact that I reverted to a pubescent teen when I saw the trailer for the third installment of the X-Men franchise. My voice squeaked in approval when I saw Magneto rip apart the Golden Gate Bridge (he never did that in the comics!). My peach fuzz prickled when I saw Jean Grey had turned into Dark Phoenix. I marveled once again watching Wolvie rip apart some mutant baddie.

Yes, I will be at the movie the night it comes out. And much like the time I spent as a preteen in my bedroom on a Friday night, flipping through the colourful pages, I don’t care if I have to do it alone.