Boy Math™? Oh boy...

Or how we should really be striving for delayed gratification

At the end of last year, I wrote about wanting a new TV.

Its crux was my struggle to justify replacing my relatively new television with an even newer one. There was nothing wrong with the old model, I just required a new TV. And the way I logicised this to myself? Boy Math™.

And it worked. Well, almost. I was millimetres away from immediately buying the television on nothing but I whim — yet, somehow, I resisted. I held back. I let the decision simmer and, after a few months, found that I still wanted it.

So I went ahead and bought it.

Since then, my new TV (the LG C3 for those interested) has been a delight. It’s brought buckets full of joy into my life and poured them all over my willing body.

I think the reason it feels so sweet is all down to delayed gratification.

The water represents joy.

I’ve been thinking about delayed gratification a lot over the past few months.

Philosophically, delayed gratification has its roots in Epicureanism, a school of thought centred around pleasure and happiness. While similar to hedonism — which can be defined as the pursuit of pleasure above all — Epicureanism acknowledges the need to endure suffering in order to achieve happiness.

To put that another way, Epicureanism focuses on minimising anxiety and pain, rather than the hedonistic path of taking as much joy as possible from each moment.

This ties in directly to delayed gratification. By making decisions that may be uncomfortable now, you can avoid greater pain (and gain more pleasure) in the future.

Think of it like rather than ordering a pizza and sitting at home, you get a salad and go for a walk. This may not feel as immediately pleasurable, but over time you’ll see rewards from the latter path that will likely reduce your amount of suffering.

Or — for an even simpler breakdown of delayed gratification — choosing between getting €100 now or €1,000 in a week.

Or, maybe, become a pizza and go for a walk.

As I’ve been thinking about delayed gratification in my own life, it’s become increasingly clear that’s the opposite of what the culture of consumerism demands. Consider credit cards. Their entire reason for being is allowing you to get something right now and leave the actual job of paying it off to the fool that is Future You.

And, lord above, tech zeroed in on this idea.

It’s the model behind social media and smartphones: keep us clicking on an endless parade of bright lights, loud noises, and flashing images. In the moment, this feels great, like you’re whizzing through a department store of endless entertainment. But after 15 minutes? An hour? All you feel is empty and drained.

In the absence of any suffering or practicing some patience, you’re left with hollowness. We’re partaking in digital hedonism.

I’ve found that I can avoid this in bursts, whether that’s keeping my phone away from me or putting in app limits, but, eventually, my resolve slides. If I’m feeling tired or low or stressed, the structures I put in place crumble and the Immediate Pleasure Device in my pocket rockets back into the centre of my life. Just like all those trillion dollar companies planned.

It’s becoming increasingly tough to handle — or even work out a strategy on how to handle.

One thing I’ve considered is decoupling from my smartphone entirely, and picking up a dumber device, like the Light Phone 2. Maybe that’s the answer? Rejecting the idea of a single piece of hardware that does everything and going back to using separate devices? A world where I carry a phone, camera, and MP3 player?

Yet, I have the feeling that, eventually, the smartphone will creep back in.

I think, though, the only approach is kindness. Not to be so hard on myself. Little in life is linear. Maybe being aware of the issue, working on it bit-by-bit, and making whatever improvements possible is the only way to progress. Understanding that this is a long game, a form of delayed gratification in itself.

It worked for my TV, so why can’t it work for my life?

Boy Math™ be damned. Well, unless I really, really want something, of course.