Understanding The L Goggles

Alpha Game:

Of course, it sounds absurd to suggest that a man's wife would kick one to the curb because his physical peak has passed, so how does it make any sense to imagine that a husband would be inclined to get rid of his wife simply because she isn't 22 anymore? Because there are more attractive women out there? There always were. There may be a few more than there were before, but he always had other options. Is a woman going to eventually be eclipsed by twenty-somethings? Of course, it is the way of the world.

Read it all. Later in the post:

it is so tragic when women, particularly women over thirty, cast aside their husbands in search of something better. Because no matter whom they meet, no one will ever look at them again through love goggles, which like beer goggles, tend to make a man see a woman through a soft and flattering lens as her mythical and eternally youthful self rather than the harsh, objective light of reality.

Looks do matter but they're not the only thing. As long as a woman doesn't turn into a whale after marriage and isn't disrespectful to her husband (both of which are not mutally exclusive), then she shouldn't worry much.

Comments

[Francis W. Porretto]

At last the kids are gone now for the day.
She reaches for the coffee as the school bus pulls away.
Another day to tend the house and plan
For Friday at the Legion when she's dancing with her man.

Sure was a bitter winter,
But Friday will be fine,
And maybe last year's Easter dress will serve her one more time.
She'd pass for twenty-nine but for her eyes.
But winter lines are telling wicked lies.

All lies.
All those lines are telling wicked lies.
Lies...all lies.
Too many lines there in that face;
Too many to erase or disguise;
They must be telling lies.

Is this the face that won for her the man
Whose amazed and clumsy fingers put that ring upon her hand?
No need to search that mirror for the years.
The menace in their message shouts across the blur of tears.

So this is Beauty's finish,
Like Rodin's "Belle Heaulmiere",
The pretty maiden trapped inside the ranch wife's toil and care.
Well, after seven kids, that's no surprise,
But why cannot her mirror tell her lies.

All lies.
All those lines are telling wicked lies.
Lies...all lies.
Too many lines there in that face;
Too many to erase or disguise;
They must be telling lies.

Then she shakes off the bitter web she wove,
And turns to set the mirror, gently, face down by the stove.
She gathers up her apron in her hand,
Pours a cup of coffee,
Drips Carnation from the can,
And thinks ahead to Friday,
'Cause Friday will be fine!
She'll look into that weathered face that loves hers, line for line,
To see that maiden shining in his eyes
And laugh at how her mirror tells her lies.

All lies.
All those lines are telling wicked lies.
Lies...all lies.
Too many lines there in that face;
Too many to erase or disguise;
They must be telling lies.

("Lies" / Stan Rogers)