I remember learning early on the very specific joy of deferred pleasure: leaving most of the fried plantain for the final few bites at the end, so the last memory of a meal was sweet; or graciously ceding spots ahead of me at the ice-cream van, because I knew that, while I’d be the last to get my Mr Whippy, I would enjoy the looks of envy from my friends. There is so much pleasure lying behind the gates marked “delayed gratification”, and the pursuit of that feeling is a lofty goal in this, the final quarter of 2018.
It’s important that any act of delayed gratification starts – and remains – small. No need to get splashy: the way I see it, something is lost when you go too big. Let me give you the perfect gateway act: withholding the inaugural hot-water bottle of autumn for as long as possible. I urge you to wait until October, if you can. That feeling of it eventually sliding over socked feet under the duvet is so… divine.
In deepest winter, after a few months of solid boot-wearing, and not a moment before, treat your feet to a luxurious pedicure. For advanced-level delayers, get tickets to a theatre show months in advance, and delight in counting down the days until the blessed event, torturing yourself by reading reviews and memorising the cast recording in the meantime.
What’s the point, you ask? I mean, I don’t want to get too deep for this frivolous column, but what’s the point of anything? The universe is expanding all around us, and time on this pale blue dot of a planet is short. Consider this a low-stakes game of chicken in which you win every time. What have you got to lose?
