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I’ve always wanted to be the hero. Even more than that, though, I wanted to be her hero.

It’s the oldest fantasy in my childhood memory. I have no idea how it started. I don’t remember what could have put the idea into my thoughts, but I was still a very small child when it became an obsession for me.

The girl was always in trouble of some kind. I made up all sorts of stories each night as I went to sleep. The specific dangers changed, but the pattern was always the same. The girl I loved was in trouble. She needed to be rescued. I came to her rescue in her moment of need — and she adored me as her hero and rescuer.

As an adult, this sort of story comes with all sorts of baggage, of course. Mature adults aren’t supposed to take such stories seriously. Some even claim that this historical and mythological imagery is sexist — that a woman shouldn’t need to be rescued and that a man shouldn’t want to be her hero.

But I don’t care. At my core, I still want to be her hero. When my princess is deepest in distress, she calls out for help and I rescue her. It’s a need that’s deeply embedded in culture and possibly genetics. And even though it’s ridiculous imagery from a child’s fairy tales, I still want to rescue my princess.

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All of your life, you have been brainwashed to obey whichever mob holds power where you live.

The brainwashing uses different language in different places. You’re taught to respect authority. You are taught to believe there is something holy about “our democratic system.” In some countries, you are taught to respect and obey the will of a party or of one particular leader. But in all systems, the result is the same.

You must obey the people who give you orders. You must give them your money and other property when they demand it. You must live by the rules they dictate. And you must be willing to kill outsiders if you’re told to do so.

Political groups violently argue about all sorts of things, but they all agree that if they are able to seize power, you and I must obey them. In this way, they are all alike. They are unwilling to let us live as free individuals — making voluntary arrangements among ourselves — because they don’t believe you and I would make the decisions they want us to make.

The real political and social question we face is whether we want to live as free individuals or as obedient slaves to whoever holds power. You are either on the side of the individual or you are part of a mob which wants to enforce its will on everybody.

I stand against the mob. I stand for the individual, even when I disagree with your choices.

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Their voices were quiet, but I could tell the man and woman were arguing. She seemed calm and dispassionate. He was full of rage. They were sitting near me Monday evening.

His angry words got louder. Finally, he stood and glared down at her.

“I don’t care what you think of me,” he said loudly. “I don’t need you or your approval!”

And then he stalked out of the restaurant, never looking back.

I knew he was lying, but I have no idea whether he knew that. If he hadn’t cared about the woman’s approval, he wouldn’t have been so angry. He wouldn’t have protested so strongly. And if he really hadn’t cared what she thought of him, he wouldn’t be a normal human being.

I’ve been fighting this battle all my life. I don’t want to care what anybody else thinks about me. I don’t want my actions to be shaped by fear of being hurt by your disapproval. I’ve often lied to myself and I’ve sworn I didn’t care.

I don’t want to need you, but I do. I don’t want to crave your approval, but I do.

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