First Love

I was too young the first time I fell in love.

But he was all that was man. He was imperfectly perfect, strong, witty, in possession of enough confidence that he didn’t need to show it off, mired in his values, and able to make the Kessel run in less than 12 parsecs. 

That’s right. Han Solo is my first love. The bar was set high by this. Very high. 

As I fill some of my (way too much) free time watching Star Wars Empire of Dreams, I’m able to take a mature look about what that crush a million years ago was all about.

Was it the blue and red stripy pants? Maybe his relationship with a Wookiee? His “out of this world” (🙄) sideways half grin? 

Mature me thinks not. Mature me thinks more than liking him, it’s the relationship with his soulmate that was more the draw. 

Who didn’t want to be Leia? Also strong, confident, and witty. And her duality…! She can pull off forest moon of Endor battle ready wear just as well as she can freaking rock the slave girl bikini. 

She’s not strong for a girl. Just strong. But she she doesn’t need to take strength from others to get there. My kind of feminist. 

Her counterpart also needed strength. A relationship where each enhances and complements the other. Willing to sacrifice for one another: but not as martyrs, as a part of their shared vision for the future of the Rebel Alliance. 

Movies are great. They take us on idealistic emotional adventures. We lost a lot of time in the Leia/Han story. Who knows, there may have been moments that were less perfect. Maybe she got pissed at how much time he and Chewie spent together. Maybe her sassiness eventually lost its charm with him. And let’s not even start about their child rearing. But that’s not what matters.

What matters is when the rubber met the road, or in this case when the Han met the carbonite, they knew exactly where they stood with each other. 

“I love you.”

“I know.”

  Swoon!