The Elongated Man and Sue Dibny: It was way back in 1961 that the headlines in a panel of The Flash #119 read “‘Elongated Man’ Marries Debutante Sue Dearbon!” Within a year of his creation, Ralph Dibny was married to Sue, which, coupled with his lack of a secret identity, made E.M. rather unique for a Silver Age superhero—especially one that editor Julius Schwartz allegedly admitted was created in large part because he didn’t know DC had the rights to Plastic Man at the time.
Theirs was the least complicated courtship in comics, devoid of the years of secrets and lies that generally occurred between cagey superheroes and their snoopy gals, and by the time Elongated Man moved from The Flash into Detective Comics, Sue was a full-fledged, mystery-solving, crime-busting partner. And when Elongated Man joined the Justice League, Sue came along too, at various times living at their headquarters and functioning as an unofficial member.
What made their relationship most extraordinary was just how ordinary it was. The pair loved each other, they liked being around one another, and their conflicts never amounted to much more than the gentle bickering of your typical married couple.
DC infamously interfered with the happy ending they pair received during James Robinson’s Starman in Identity Crisis, but by the end of 52, Mark Waid and his co-collaborators gave the pair a more or less permanent happy ending.
James and Amy Kochalka: The Kochalkas are, of course, real people; James is one of the most prolific cartoonists working today, producing some of the most varied results, from a daily online diary strip to children’s books and graphic novels to the best unofficial Legion Of Super-Heroes comics ever to classics dealing with monkey on mechanized man conflict. Although they’re real people, I don’t know them at all as real people, although I’m increasingly familiar with them as two of the stars of James’ daily American Elf strip, which is occasionally collected (I just read American Elf Book Three, which I highly recommend).
Through those little three-to-four-panel windows, I watch the growing Kochalka families often charming lives one anecdote at a time. Most of these revolve around their darling kids, and the cute and/or silly things they’re always saying and doing, and Amy’s challenges of raising them both—in addition to her often childish cartoonist/musician superstar boyfriend. (It reminds me of what The Family Circus would be like if The Family Circus was a truly great comic).
James seems to present an extremely warts and all sort of view of his domestic life, despite the sometimes fantastic elements of his designs (he has elf ears, one of his band mates is a dog, etc), so he’s never shy about showing his arguments with Amy, many of which seem to revolve around him being somehow moody or petty about something.
In addition to being the stars of a very cute, very funny comic strip then, Amy and James are also an example of an ideal couple—in love with one another, patient with one another, raising not only their kids but each other, and, of course, realistic. (Of course, given that they are real, they should be realistic, but many readers don’t the real James and Amy, so lets stick with realistic).
Empowered and Thug Boy: The title character of Adam Warren’s superhero parody/cheesecake festival/character-driven sitcom is a ridiculous stereotype of stereotypical female insecurities and neuroses…except when she’s not. After hooking up with a henchman who goes by the name Thug Boy in the first volume, a rounder, more fully-developed character began to emerge, and began to draw a more complex character out of her new boyfriend as well.
I’ve long ago run out of new ways to express my admiration of Warren’s ongoing series of graphic novels, and it’s hard to talk about what makes the series work so well in the space of a few paragraphs, but Warren has managed to cross the lines the bit superhero publishers will tip toe up to fearfully in terms of sexy and/or exploitive imagery, but he uses that imagery in a storyline featuring one of the most normal and most healthy superhero relationships I’ve ever encountered in comics.
Dagwood and Blondie Bumstead: There’s certainly something to be said for longevity, and the Bumsteads have been together since shortly after my grandparents were born and, while I missed out on the beginnings of their relationship for a few decades, they seem to have achieved a sort of eternal upper-middleclass suburban paradise—unchallenged and unchanging.
While their status quo might not be the most appealing, I’ve always seen Dagwood as an inspirational figure: Here’s a guy with a terrible hair cut and a slow wit, a man who can’t leave for work without badly hurting a mailman or afford to eat lunch anywhere other than the same crappy diner every day or ever convince his boss to give him a raise, and yet he’s still managed to land Blondie, and end each of his repetitive, boring days in bed next to her, the one strap of her nightgown always falling off her one shoulder provocatively.
If Dagwood Bumstead can achieve marital bliss with a goddess like Blondie, there’s hope for anyone!
Superman and Lois Lane: When I was thinking of the deceitful, dysfunctional relationships most common among superheroes that Ralph and Sue’s was the exception to, I was mainly thinking of Superman and Lois. For the first, oh, forty to fifty years of their existence, Superman treated Lois as something between a pest to be avoided and a minor inconvenience to be tolerated. And who can blame him? Throughout the Silver Age, in which she devoted her self to one wacky, extreme scheme to trick Superman into marrying her against his will after another (and/or occasionally crush her rivals for his affection), she proved herself to be Superman’s greatest arch enemy. Lex Luthor and Brainiac couldn’t hold a candle to the chaos Lois has caused him.
The Superman/Clark Kent/Lois Lane love triangle is, in a lot of ways, central to the appeal of the Superman character, and doing away with it in the comics was certainly a controversial move. Did it somehow make Superman no longer Superman?
Maybe. I like to think it merely reflects comic book Superman’s transition from a character of boys’ fantasy to one of grown men (and women’s) fantasy. Since most of his regular readers are adults now, fewer of them see girls as something with cooties, to be avoided at all costs. (Without getting too far off-topic, the outted superhero with no secret identity, either from his loved ones or the public at large, seemed to be something of an increasing trend for a while—of course, within the last few years even outted characters like Spider-Man and The Flash have been going back into the secret identity closet).
Taking a broad view of the Superman/Lois relationship, from a perch here in the real world, I like to think that the fact that they eventually learned to trust each other and marry and have been able to function all these years as a couple as a sort of happy semi-ending, the next plateau in a relationship that will never really end, but can at least change for the better.
Or you can always look at it this way: Even a crazy lady like Lois Lane can eventually clean up her act and find happiness, not through elaborate schemes but by simply being herself.
Spider-Man and Mary Jane: Oh wait, never mind.
Godai and Kyoko: I limited myself to a single manga couple, because otherwise this list would be about ten times as long, and if I had to pick a favorite couple from a manga, it would definitely be young, shiftless student Yusaku Godai and the beautiful widow who managed his apartment complex in Rumiko Takahashi’s Maison Ikkoku. This was one of the first manga series I read, and the first time I experienced the couple-constantly-on-the-verge-of-getting-together formula that would prove to be the engine for, like, 80-percent of the manga I’ve read since. Maison Ikkoku was just 14 volumes long, and more realistic than a lot of the romantic comedies Takahashi would follow it with (i.e. there are no demons or transfeminiating martial artists in it), long enough to make it suspenseful without growing tiresome or too artificial.
The dynamic between Godai and Kyoko is one I’d find in a lot of the series I’ve read and enjoyed the most since, not only in Takahashi’s work, but also in Love Hina, which was obviously inspired by Maison Ikkoku, and one of my favorite series at the moment, Jin Kobayashi’s School Rumble.
Scott Pilgrim and Ramona Flowers: The title character of Bryan Lee O’Malley’s Oni Press graphic novel series and the American ninja/delivery girl whose love he’s been trying to win for five volumes now certainly make for a cute couple, however those who have read the latest volume know that their ending up together may not be as inevitable as it once seemed.
It doesn’t matter. The fact that Ramona is so special that Scott must defeat her Seven Evil Ex-Boyfriends in combat (while Ramona will need her own fighting skills to fend off Scott’s ex-Knives Chau and others) is something I find perpetually charming. A lover who must first complete a quest before winning his or her girl or boy is a premise as old as stories, but O’Malley has given it a new spin by using the language and imagery of video games—where most of use associate the word “quest” with these days anyway—and making the comedy inherent in the situations somewhat metaphorical of relationships in general.
After all, isn’t part of winning someone—anyone—depend on one’s ability to surpass those who came before you in some manner or another?
Well, those are some of my favorite comics couples. I’ll be back tomorrow, one day closer to Valentine’s Day, to talk about some of my least favorite couples. In the mean time, who are some of your favorite comics couples…?