Gambit and Rogue are going to have sex! Well, unless Marvel is pulling my leg again, which is quite possible, but if they are, this time I'm really going to have to go to New York and kill them. As a whole. Kill 'em dead. Except maybe the writers, because they're actually doing a good good good job writing this particular story arc.

And I'd like to kill Joe Madeureria or whatever the hell his name is dead, too, on general principles, because this is a bloody American comic (yes, I'm aware of the irony in those last three words) and not manga, and for Christ's sake, if you got too near those people, their noses would poke your eyes out. Sharp and painful looking. Nevermind the Astonishing Proportions, which generally involve teeny tiny heads and GREAT BIG CHESTS and itsy bitsy waists and ENORMOUS LARGE FEET.

Anyway. Gambit and Rogue, not in that order, are one of my favorite obsessions. I maintain this obsession in part thanks to my friend Sarah, who plays Gambit in our role-played X universes. Mostly, though, I maintain it because it's wonderful fun. I wave my hands and yell and get very excited about the sex lives of paper characters. My coworkers (well, at least Shmoo) waves his hands back and yells and gets very excited about the sex lives paper characters, too. He doesn't like Gambit, and is rooting for Rogue and Magneto to get together.

Boy, is he gonna be disappointed

There are dangerous obsessions out there. I really don't consider mine to be one. About the worst that can happen is a paper cut. My parents think I'm insane, wailing and groaning and shouting about comic books. It's possible they're right: obsessions are somewhat insane.

Luckily, my husband understands. We get into very loud discussions about these characters, and disagree vehemently over the strengths and flaws and aspects of unreal people. It's delightful fun. If it weren't, we wouldn't do it. And as far as obsessions go, it's healthy.

I think I'd rather like to experiment with unhealthy obsessions, but I've got too damned much common sense. Either that or I'm a chickenshit. My idea of rebellion was getting my ear pierced a second time the minute I got to college, as my mother wouldn't let me while I was in high school.

Pretty mild. I think it's why I like characters like Gambit and Sabretooth (Sabretooth? Who's he? You never mentioned him before!). They're the quintenssential bad boys, Gambit in your motorcycle-riding-leather-wearing-chain-smoking sort of way, and Sabes in your homicidal-maniac sort of way. I have far, far too much sense to get involved with people even vaguely like them.

That's a little disappointing. Maybe it's idiotic to be disappointed by a lack of idiocy, but I still find it a little disappointing. People like Gambit are exceedingly attractive. They're just not good for you. It seems like something of a waste to never do anything that's not good for you . . .

Rogue is another matter entirely. She's like the Ultimate Woman. She's beautiful. She's incredibly strong. She has a sixth sense that warns her of incoming danger. She's invulnerable. She can fly. All of this is packaged up in an untouchable wrapping. She's got everything, and it's worth nothing.

Tragic. Gorgeously tragic. We'll ignore the fact that Marvel has come up with at least half a dozen canon ways to get around Rogue's mutant power to absorb people. Nevermind that fans have come up with dozens of other ways, ranging from practical to fantastical, to get around her inability to touch people. Without this fatal flaw, Rogue is a crashing bore. Who wants perfection?

(Okay, so I'd like to give it a whirl, but that's not the point.)

They're the perfect couple: Gambit is arrogant, bad for people, and loves a challenge. Rogue provides a challenge like nothing else in the entire world can. They can't consumate the relationship on a permenant basis without utterly destroying what makes them tick.

Which brings me back to the beginning: Rogue and Gambit, at the end of UXM #348, sure looked like they were going to take the one night they were allowed. (If you want details, go read it.) This is unbelievably cool -- but it's cool .because. it's just one night. It's that forbidden fruit: a taste that is going to be forever denied with the morning light.

I get disgusted with Marvel, and comic books in general, a lot, mostly because they can't keep people dead and that ruins the power of a storyline. I mean, who believed Superman was going to stay dead? That was a great story, but it would have been ever so much better if Superman hadn't come back -- and there was never ever ever any doubt that he would.

They've done an awfully good job with this relationship story, though. They've drawn it out almost a hundred issues, given it ups and downs, some very good, others considerably more bleah, and they've developed the characters considerably, I think. The characters have paid their dues: they deserve a night together.

If Marvel actually goes through with it, of course, well, that's where it'll take some work to keep the story good. The angst potential is enormous. It'd be a real shame if Marvel said, "Aw, hell, we've gotten 'em together once, c'mon, let's use Explanation #37 to fix up Rogue's little problem and we'll have them live Happily Ever After."

Fortunately (?), Marvel doesn't have a history of doing that (see Jean and Scott if there are any doubts in that regard), so it may actually be that they're not going to screw up the characters in that fashion. Of course, they might screw it up in the fashion they did to Jean and Scott, but I'd hope they've learned their lesson from that particular fiasco. From a sheer storytelling perspective, they shouldn't get them together on a permenant basis. Not yet, anyway.

I mean, if they did, what would I obsess about? The sex lives of television characters? I'd have to start watching soaps, and the insane edge of my little obsession packet doesn't go nearly that far.