Judge, 1927-10-08 · page 12 of 36
Judge — October 8, 1927 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Dangerous Age" - Judge Magazine Satire This humorous story by Arthur L. Lippmann satirizes middle-aged male anxiety and shifting marriage dynamics. The narrator describes how he once teased his wife by jokingly mentioning an imaginary woman named "Vera" he'd visit during lodge nights. His wife, though knowing he was joking, showed subtle worry—typical feminine concern that he found endearing. Three years later, the situation reverses. Having gained twenty pounds, lost hair, and developed a paunch, he makes the same joke. This time, his wife laughs *heartily*—not from jealousy but from amusement at the absurdity that anyone would be interested in him now. The satire mocks how physical decline deflates male vanity and confidence. His wife's laughter wounds him more than suspicion ever did, prompting him to join a gym and visit Mario's salon. The joke: aging men discover their wives' indifference cuts deeper than jealousy.
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JUDGE CATACLYSMIC MOMENTS Mr. Yale is locked out. The Dangerous Age I used to tease my wife a good deal the first year we were mar- ried by hinting that the Tuesday nights off, ostensibly for the pur- pose of attending lodge meetings, were being used now and then for more diverting though less de- corous purpo: I jocularly sug- gested some vague lady who was delighted to receive me on those evenings. My wife did not like my flippancy, though she knew perfectly well that I was joshing her. But there was something feminine, something sub-conscious that worried her. When I got home from the meetings she al- ways eyed me carefully as_ if searching for something that would “Well, Vera was delighted to see me tonight,” I used to shout as I hung up my hat. She al- ways looked so wistful, so vaguely troubled that I used to seize her and kiss her impressively to dis- solve her fears. That was about three years ago. Since then I've put ‘on about twenty pounds and the barber keeps suggesting hair tonic. The middle vest buttons have to be sewed on every week or two. Last Tuesday night I started off for the mee “Well, Babe,” I said to my wife as I walked down the steps, with what I thought was the old twinkle in y eyes, “Maybe little old Vera won't be glad to see her boy arks didn’t worry my wife very much. In place of that slightly questioning look, her face became positively jovial. She Jaughed so hard that I thought she would fall down the steps. Even as I turned the corner, I could hear her. Of course, I went to the lodge meeting. I always did. I never missed one. But, you know, I couldn’t get much out of it. I still could hear my wife’s laughter, and I thought of my barber and the thin hair on the top, and those confounded vest buttons. ... And when I got back to the house, my wife herself opened the door. After she had helped me into my slippers and given me my house-robe, she wanted to know all about Vera—how she had received me, and if I was still her boy friend. The last thing I heard as I fell asleep was my wife’s hearty laughter. I think I’m going to join the luncheon gym. glass. I also in- tend to have my hair treated over at Mario’s. After all, a fellow is as old as he feels, isn’t he? —Arruvur L. Lippmann indicate my former whereabouts. Sanctuary —— comicbooks.com