You might remember that I wrote a column a few years back about the need to get glasses. It was about five years ago. I could read most things with ease, but the print in some books and in some lighting started to cause a little strain. It seemingly happened overnight.

Off I went to the eye doctor.  Sure enough glasses were in order. I spent about a million dollars on that first pair. “You don’t have much of an issue. You could probably get by with some ‘cheaters,’” said the nurse as I tried on my million-dollar prescription lenses.

I went to the local five and dime and bought a few pairs. Surprisingly, I thought the cheap glasses looked better on me. I hope I’m right. I wear them all the time. The million-dollar pair rests in a drawer and is rarely used.

Every so often, I’d purchase a new pair and tuck them in a good spot. I had a pair in each car, in most rooms of the house, in my school book bag and so on. Whenever things got a little fuzzy, I’d reach for a pair and the world was much clearer than before.

Michelle’s eyes followed suit a few years after mine, but the nurse was nicer to her and told her up front she didn’t need to order million-dollar glasses.  So, she too got a hold of a few pairs of cheaters: mine.

My wife believes that what’s mine is hers and what’s mine is hers. When I fuss a little, she scolds me and tells me I don’t like to share. Any drink I have, she sips. Any clothing I have, she wears if she wants. What’s mine is hers.

This also applies to glasses.  She soon began picking up my sporty black frames. Not only did they work nicely for her, she also looked very cute with them on. Plus, I couldn’t deny her clear vision.

My first bright idea of solving the glasses shortage was to buy some “girly” glasses and have them on hand for my lovely wife. It was not that great of an idea and it only doubled the population of “shared” glasses in our house, most of them winding up in my wife’s purse.

We began wearing whatever glasses were available and I can tell you without shame that, in desperation, I have often resorted to wearing glasses with fashionable purple ear pieces or bits of gold flecks around the frames. A fella’s gotta see, after all.

I found a great website where one could buy cool looking glasses at cut rates. You could even buy several pairs in a package. Surely having so many pairs around would solve the problem of being able to locate a pair when needed.

After perusing the website, I chose to buy a package of four pairs of glasses. If you bought more than one package, it was even cheaper. I bought a package of black frames and a package of brown frames.

Also on the website were these really cool, vintage-style glasses.  I had seen them in the movies. These were the same glasses worn by some of the hip-leading-men-movie stars.

Surely these glasses would make me look hip, too. I figured since I was saving so much money on the bulk packages, I might as well splurge and spend $5 on this hip pair.

The packages of glasses came a few days later. I tried on a pair and thought I looked pretty good in them. However, there was one problem: the ear pieces didn’t fit comfortably on my abnormally large head.  Dang. The eight pairs of glasses would be relegated to “in a pinch” status. I’d wear them if I had to.

But there was a bright spot:  I hadn’t yet opened the really cool glasses. There they sat at the bottom of the box, waiting to unveil their coolness. I was ready to look like a leading man, so I eagerly ripped open the package.

The glasses were retro looking with what someone called tortoise shell details. I’d never heard of this, but it must be cool. I tried them on. They fit well. I even started feeling cool.
I went to the nearest mirror, expecting to see a leading man when I gazed into the mirror.  But the image staring back at me was a cross between Woodsy Owl and Estelle Getty. I looked ridiculous.

Not ready to give up, I carried the glasses around and showed them to a few of my closest confidantes. The real test was showing my own children and later, my students.  Kids don’t lie. When my class burst into raucous laughter, I knew they did not see a leading man either. One well-meaning student told me I should wear them for Halloween.

The “cool” glasses are relegated, along with the bulk-package glasses, to a last resort spot in my desk and in drawers at home. If I should happen to make it to school without proper specs, the “cool” glasses are always there to fall back on. I don’t want to waste money, after all.

I was glad to see that my lovely wife with her petite, lovely and small head could wear the bulk glasses. To date, I think there is only one pair left out of the original eight. However, I don’t blame my wife:  you get what you pay for. I’m pretty sure the first seven lost ear pieces or were broken or bent quickly. Never buy glasses in bulk.

And so goes the constant hunt for a pair of glasses. I find it monotonous that I am unable to fulfill some of life’s duties without first locating glasses.  The house could be on fire and I would need to find my glasses to dial the phone. Dial?

But as I said: a fella’s gotta see.