It’s pretty damn satisfying to see this guy on the cover of GQ, isn’t it? Here, at long last, is a man rather than a boy. (It’s been a while.) So yes, he’s a lot better looking than you are, and yes, every woman you know wants to bed him, but you don’t begrudge him these things, because (a) he’s not pretty and (b) he’s not callow. Simple as that. It’s a vintage kind of maleness, Clive Owen’s, akin to McQueen’s and Eastwood’s and Newman’s. Never showy or needy. Sure of itself without being cocky. Totally in control of what it will and won’t give. The kind of maleness guys hope to see not only in their friends but also in their fathers.