I have three talents that’d be secret if I wasn’t such a show-off. First off: At a house party, a contemporary ballerina once told me my feet have the “perfect dancer’s arch” that “a lot of people work very hard for.” Secondly, I am an absolute rocket with a sniper rifle on Fortnite. And, finally, I have 20:20 vision, so sharp and so clear that an optician said it’s the best he’s ever seen for my age bracket. You’d think that’d leave me smug, buoyed by the fact I could be a major future asset for MI6. But alas, I am not smug. I am sad, because I look infinitely better in glasses.

For years, I’ve taken a moment to borrow my friends’ eyeglasses, and they’ve sighed at me as I stare longingly into my iPhone reflection, and then I sigh as I fire off a selfie to other friends, seeking their confirmation, that yes, I do look better, and no, I don’t know why life is so unfair. It’s hard to explain exactly why I look better. But as someone with a less-than-symmetrical face, I think glasses act as scaffolding of some sort; straight lines give the appearance of a straighter face. Think of it this way: You cover even the most Tim Burton-ass-looking house with poles and boards and it’ll look a little more structured.

There are other reasons, too. I’ve got no hair, so a pair of glasses feels like some DLC customizable add-on—a luxury for me to change things up in a way that a wet razor can’t. I feel better, I look smarter, I give off the air of a man that read law at Oxbridge but gave it all up to start a candle-making business (though I am capable of doing neither).

It’s not an exact science across the board, though. A 2022 study by the University of Jordan found that more respondents preferred the look of subjects without glasses; another from Chang Gung University suggested that the actual design of the glasses was an important factor. Which kinda makes sense: a pair of NHS specials may well be less hot than a classic set from American Psycho favorite Oliver Peoples.

This leaves me in turmoil. Several friends and associates have said: “Give a shit what people think! Buy some clear spectacles,” and I partially agree. To hell with the inevitable jibes I’d get from my mates at the pub; if it wasn’t a clear lens, they’d find something else to rinse me about anyway. But my reluctance lies in the fact that, maybe, just maybe, it would mean I’m cosplaying a medical condition. A mild one perhaps, but you wouldn’t needlessly wear your arm in a sling unless you had Munchausen’s, and you wouldn’t wear an eye patch for fun unless you were an actual anime villain. Is wearing glasses any different? The pro team would disagree; they’re just an accessory, no different from sunglasses—and with that I disagree. We all need sunglasses in the sun. We don’t all need spectacles to see.

Maybe I’m just mad that I’ve already outed myself as a haw. Until my pride (or eyesight) diminishes, I’ll have to settle for the fact that I am sans specs. You, though? Keep quiet, and maybe, just maybe, you can cosplay Clark Kent without anyone ever knowing the truth.

A version of this story originally appeared in British GQ.