But to sustain a marriage for 50 years, you have to get real a

“But to sustain a marriage for 50 years, you have to get real a little bit and find someone who is understanding and who you can grow with. My mom always says, ‘Marry the man who loves you a millimeter more.’” These words of Ali Larter, spoken with tenderness and humility, reveal a wisdom far deeper than their simplicity suggests. Beneath their gentle tone lies an ancient truth: that love is not sustained by illusion, but by understanding, and that the bond of marriage endures not through perfection, but through mutual growth and the steady balance of affection. Larter’s reflection is not the naïve dream of romance, but the seasoned counsel of one who has glimpsed the long horizon of companionship — a love that must learn to weather time.

When she says, “you have to get real a little bit,” she speaks against the mirage of ideal love — the fantasy that passion alone can sustain a union through decades. In every age, the poets have sung of love’s fire, but the philosophers have reminded us that even the brightest flame fades unless tended with wisdom. To “get real” is to see love not as endless bliss, but as a covenant between two imperfect souls. It is the courage to look beyond beauty and into character, beyond thrill and into trust. For in the long arc of marriage, it is not laughter alone that binds hearts, but forgiveness; not grand gestures, but daily grace.

And then comes the tender phrase, passed down from mother to daughter: “Marry the man who loves you a millimeter more.” What a delicate measure, yet what immense meaning it holds! It is not a call for imbalance or submission, but for safety — for the assurance that love, to endure, must rest upon generosity. A man who loves “a millimeter more” is one who will yield when pride rises, who will choose gentleness over ego, and patience over power. In truth, such love does not diminish either soul; it uplifts both. For love that gives more than it demands creates a cycle of grace — one heart nourishing the other until both grow strong.

The ancients too spoke of this wisdom. The Greek philosopher Aristotle, in his reflections on friendship and marriage, said that true love exists when each seeks not their own good, but the good of the other. Such love is rare, for it requires humility — the willingness to lose a little pride so that both may win peace. History offers many examples of this quiet strength: consider Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, whose marriage was not free of storms, yet endured through mutual respect and growth. They were partners not only in affection, but in purpose — supporting each other’s passions, learning from each other’s differences, and transforming companionship into legacy. Their union teaches that marriage is not a chain but a garden, where two souls grow toward the same light.

Larter’s wisdom also reminds us that growth is the soul of lasting love. To “find someone you can grow with” is to choose a companion whose heart is open to change, whose love matures as life evolves. For love that does not grow will perish, and affection that resists time will wither beneath it. In every long marriage, there comes a season when beauty fades, when tempers rise, when dreams diverge — yet those who continue to grow together transform hardship into harvest. They learn, again and again, to love each other not as they were, but as they have become.

The lesson, then, is both tender and timeless. Choose love not for its brilliance, but for its endurance. Seek not the one who dazzles you most, but the one who understands you best. Let your heart be drawn not only by passion, but by peace. And when you find that soul who loves you “a millimeter more,” cherish them, for they will carry your spirit through the decades when beauty wanes and only loyalty remains.

So, my children, remember this: a great marriage is not built upon perfection, but upon persistence. It is the daily act of choosing — to listen, to forgive, to remain kind even when weary. As the ancients said, “Love is a temple built stone by stone.” Let understanding be your foundation, growth your roof, and kindness the light that fills your home. Then, when fifty years have passed, you will look upon your beloved not as a stranger of time, but as the dearest reflection of your own enduring heart.