Instapundit links to a very good piece by Deirdre McCloskey about the ways we might define happiness. She talks about the perils of defining happiness in terms of how you feel right now rather than in terms of the longer story of your life.
It reminded me a of something that happened about thirty years ago. A woman I knew went to Queens and I was down in Kingston on Canadian Thanksgiving (Note to American readers, this is the same day as your Columbus Day) and I saw her. She was very upset with her roommates.
These roommates, all women, had been giving her a hard time because she had had five sexual partners between Frosh Week and that weekend. She said to me, "Everyone keeps telling me that I am hurting myself but I've never felt better about myself than I do now." I have no doubt she was telling the truth plain and simple. She probably felt just great.
The next thirty years of her life weren't so great.
It reminded me a of something that happened about thirty years ago. A woman I knew went to Queens and I was down in Kingston on Canadian Thanksgiving (Note to American readers, this is the same day as your Columbus Day) and I saw her. She was very upset with her roommates.
These roommates, all women, had been giving her a hard time because she had had five sexual partners between Frosh Week and that weekend. She said to me, "Everyone keeps telling me that I am hurting myself but I've never felt better about myself than I do now." I have no doubt she was telling the truth plain and simple. She probably felt just great.
The next thirty years of her life weren't so great.
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