Raising the Standards for Trophy Wives, Husbands

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an old, fat, ugly rich dude must be in want of a trophy wife.

Trophy wives are the brilliant and beautiful reward for a life lived as Conan the Capitalist. They are the latest proof of the decline of feminism. First, Dr. Ruth sanctions the “quickie,” and now this. Sisters, we gotta get organized.

It’s gross injustice. The old man dumps the good woman whose only job was to stand by her man as he went through struggle, sacrifice, Maalox, hairy ears, midriff bulge and a bright and shining dome. As soon as her first face lift falls, it’s: Take a hike, Toots. Then it’s on to: Look at the brilliant career on my beautiful, young babe.

More unfair is the double standard for trophy husbands. A trophy husband is a woman’s reward for clawing her way to the top and giving up dessert for 40 years.

All a guy need do to apply for the job of trophy husband is be under 30 and moderately fine. He can be in a rock group. He may possess a manly blue-collar skill like carpentry. He can be a bagel maker. But basically he’s just a cute young thing that you want to dress up in Ralph Lauren rugged-yet-casual outfits.

He’s a background guy, there to complement the aging and successful beauty who bags him. He’s like the mysterious man lurking in the Guess? jeans ads who appears to be stalking the young model. You can think of him as the male ballet dancer whose main purpose is to lift up the ballerina.

Trophy wives must not only be beautiful but well-off and accomplished in their own right. Unless you are young, gifted and have $2.5 million in Mary Kay sales under the belt, you needn’t apply.

It isn’t enough for the old dudes to find some dumb bimbo. They’re demanding smart bimbos.

Look at the inequality in the trophy-spouse seekers themselves. Short, bald, quadruple-bypass kinda guy seeks 25-year-old statuesque blonde with Wharton MBA and diversified portfolio. Perfectly fine. But witty, charming, 40ish gal columnist seeks studly 28-year-old into quadratic equations and California real estate? Get lost.

For a woman to catch a trophy husband, she must be beautiful and young-looking, no matter how many years past 40 or how many K past $40 million she possesses.

None of these magazine stories about Older Women/Younger Men are about Ugly Older Women/Younger Men. Without an abdomen as tight as a steel plate, even Cher would be condemned to face her golden years with the likes of Sonny.

Lee Iacocca doesn’t have to be a hunk. Husbands of trophy wives needn’t be dreamboats. Or even unhealthy. Look at Papandreou getting hitched in the ICU.

Pretty as she still is, Bess Myerson isn’t beautiful enough to command a trophy husband. Had she saved Chrysler, she’d still be stuck with that guy she almost went to jail for. And don’t tell me that alleged bimbozo is any trophy.

Malcolm Forbes may be rich, but he’s no prize. Yet poor Liz will have to settle for him or be on a diet for the rest of her life. You see what I’m saying? Even violet eyes are not enough.

Unfair! This demeans women! I say it’s time women’s groups stop wasting time with reproductive rights and equal pay and other unimportant issues.

Bring me the head of Tom Cruise!