It's All Relative

There can be few things more annoying in the world than knowing that someone, somewhere, is having a better time than you. Of course, chances are that no matter how happy you think you are, there is somewhere out there happier, since there can only be one happiest person on Earth at a time. This makes the study of probability one of the worst threats to public morale known to man, and one of the reasons people instinctively cross the street when they see a maths professor.

The thing is that humans are very bad at absolutes. This isn’t necessarily a flaw. In evolutionary terms, absolutes are not altogether useful. Knowing that I can run at around 15 mph is of no particular relevance. When a tiger is chasing me, however, knowing I can run faster than the other guy is.

Similarly, there is no absolute measure of happiness. It is not meaningful, when someone turns to you and say ‘are you happy?’ to turn round and say ‘yes, about 20 right now. How about you?’.

Instead, we tend to measure our happiness relative to other people. I may have a car, and a mobile phone, and WIFI, but that chap over there has two cars, and the latest mobile phone, and his WIFI doesn’t have any dead spots. Advertising executives have spotted this little trend, and help us out by giving us useful exemplars to compare ourselves against. Look at this man. He spends his weekends paragliding in the Maldives, mountain biking in the Pyrenees, and driving a 4x4 across the African desert. Whereas you are in your pants watching Saturday kitchen. You could be happy like him. Want to know his secret? He drinks Pepsi.

When I was in my 20’s, I had a short experience of envying someone I’d never met. His name was Bob. I don’t know who Bob is, whether he’s rich, poor, handsome, smart, or stupid. All I know is he had a very similar phone number to me and he was definitely having a better time.

I started getting these texts. They started off simple.

‘Bob. It’s me. Call me when you get the chance.’

Then they got more complicated.

‘Bob, I had a great time last night. I particularly like the thing with the oysters. Linda.’

Before long, I had a constant stream of text messages, all from different women, all telling what a great time they’d had doing a string of things that I’d have been delighted to do with one woman, let along 10.

The most curious message I got was towards the end of this little affair.

‘Bob. Why aren’t you returning my calls. The pictures on my phone mean nothing. I was very young at the time.’

Then they stopped.

For a little while I felt bereaved. Alright, I had felt unbearably jealous of Bob, out there living the high life while I stayed at home, alone, reading his texts, but while I’d had Bob I’d at least had the vicarious thrill of somehow being part of his exploits. Of almost, but not quite, being Bob. I guess this is why people watch soap operas.

The point is that, in fact, I had a perfectly good life and was doing more, in my way, than many others in my generation. I was in a band, I had a good circle of friends, I was out most nights… If I was jealous of Bob, was there someone out there who was jealous of me.

Studies of twins seem to suggest that 50% of happiness is based on genetics, 10% is based on your actual situation, and the remaining 40% is based on how you choose to feel about something. My first thought is ‘50% is based on genetics. Well I’ve got no hope. No wonder I feel so bloody miserable all the time.’ But if only 10% is based on the actual situation, then annoying though it is when someone tells you to ‘cheer up, it may never happen’ they’re probably right even if it has already happened.

So it’s time to take charge of our lives. If we truly get to choose whether we’re happy, it’s time to start doing just that. Obviously, there are certain circumstances where that choice would take more stubborn bloody-mindedness than Donald Trump insisting he looks good in a mankini, such as finding joy in the fact that you no longer need a sweater because your house is on fire. For most of us, however, our house is not on fire. We’re doing perfectly well, just not as well as the man on the advert with the paraglider, and the mountain bike, and the 4x4, that all seem curiously clean. Just remember, he’s not real. You are. It’s time to make the most of that.