Move over, Han Solo. Not so fast, Mr. Bond. And why're you leaving the room, John Matrix? ('Cause if this is about Bennett again, I swear...)
I venture 300's King Leonidas—and probably not history's King Leonidas, 'cause we barely cared about him until he was cinematized—may well take the cake, or heavy-laden beefcake as it were, as the most enviable paragon of testosteronic manhood of all time. Period.
This decision didn't come easily. (In fact, my personal favorite remains John Rambo, but I'll resist the urge to lord that over everyone, as my sights were set on a more "universal" candidate.) Many, many traits were considered, and Sparta's warrior king truly oozes all the hunky fundamentals: charisma, decisiveness, righteous indignation, gruffness, beardiness, and of course, selfless courage.
But—all things considered—by which solitary factor does Gerard Butler's King Leonidas far and away exceed them all, thus narrowly placing Your Lordship on the High Throne Machismo? I submit to you one word—yelling.
His yelling is the yellingest yelling anyone's ever yelled. And it's so loud and impassioned, its very content gives way to that sheer guttural quickening—honor, self-defense, survival!
Now that's a man-crush, people.