Back when I was eleven or twelve, I had a crush on Batman. The Batman of my fantasies was, more or less, Adam West’s Batman from the campy sixties TV show. In my fantasies, however, as in the show, Batman was quite solemn as he climbed up buildings in his pleather mask and tights. He was equally grave in his public persona of Bruce Wayne, millionaire (or was it billionaire?) playboy.
In an era where the word “playboy” evoked thoughts of swinging bachelorhood, Bruce Wayne seemed unusually ascetic. I seem to remember Adam West always looking vaguely uncomfortable as a fake-lashed debutante melted into him. Like the professor in Gilligan’s Island, Bruce Wayne seemed to be provoke lust in women without showing much evidence of experiencing it himself.