By the nature of my job, sometimes I have to go a few days at a time without sleep. And at the end, the pure bliss of the long-anticipated coma almost always makes it worth all the trouble. And this got me thinking. Many other things in life, when delayed or withheld, also increase disproportionately in value of pleasure. When you don’t eat for several days, everything tastes amazing. When you don’t/can't go to the bathroom for a long time, the final relief is utterly climactic. When you don’t pick your nose for several days, extracting the huge nugget that eventually accumulates is indescribably satisfying.
However, if you delay or withhold these needs for too long, you will die. You’ll die if you don’t sleep or eat or go to the bathroom for too many days in a row. You’ll die if you let your nose wad grow to the point of becoming an obstruction in your nasopharynx (don’t ask me to back this up with research). The point is, it appears that the growth in pleasure of these menial necessities has an asymptotic relationship with death. The longer you wait, the closer to death you draw, and thus the more gratifying the experience.
So like, there are a lot of these very brave daredevils out there who glory in risky, death-defying thrills. You know the type. They’re dangerous. They wear cool sunglasses. They have high-resolution Instagram photos of themselves jumping out of planes. They don’t wear seat belts.
Well, I am a daredevil too. I wait 4 days before picking my nose.
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