It seems to me that if we were to take any average person and ask them in confidence whether they think they would be happier with more money, fame, or sexy-time, the response would invariably be something along the lines of, “Yes, please. All of those.”
Just to make sure we’re on the same page, let me ask you this: do you ever find yourself daydreaming about winning the lottery? Perhaps wishing you were more attractive? Ever want to hit it big or become a viral sensation like my talented first-cousin is doing right now? I know that I have been victim to a million of these thoughts before, but I have spent some time in this world now, and it has led me to the conclusion that I am not alone in these silent desires.
I spoke with a couple of my coworkers in the oilfield today about it. More specifically, I talked about the sacrifices it takes to pay for my years of post-secondary education, as far as having a career in the oilfield goes. People became very honest about their own desires and it very quickly turned into a session of wishful frenzy.
“Fuck, I want to be a millionaire so bad—not have to do any of this shit,” one of them said. It struck me as profound so I wrote it down verbatim.”No, fuck that,” he added. “A billionaire.”
Indeed. Though lacking some elegant phrasing in the spontaneity of the moment, this worthy man exhibited a great universal I found within my own heart. I seriously have a desire for wealth. It would make things so much easier, wouldn’t it? I wouldn’t have to be there doing things I didn’t want to do, working for money I’ve already spent on studying psychology. I could buy more things and feel less guilty about buying more things. I could pose naked with all of my Canadian bills for a Facebook photo for all it mattered, but facts are facts and I don’t have much monies. I don’t think my lonely roll of quarters would cut it for what I have in mind.
Or would it?
The point is that I also found I have another desire within me. A stronger desire in fact. Upon reflection, I realized that deeper than all the money in the world could dig me, further than all the attention of others might propel me, and beyond what extensive good-looks could do to my ego, I desired, more than any of these, to be loved. Pure, unfiltered, full-on loved.
I don’t mean love like the mere feeling of sexual climax as some people mistake it for, and I don’t mean love like the way I feel about the people from my old job as a camp counselor, which is a strong, albeit somewhat unhealthy affection. I mean something like the intimacy I feel with my fiance when she grabs my hand at the freaking Superstore.
Surprise, is the feeling. Suprise, Spencer—you are loved.
Has this feeling ever happened to you? Maybe a friend of yours once wrote you a personalized message that wasn’t on your birthday. Maybe your mother once played with your hair while you dozed off to sleep as a child. Maybe, like me, you have experienced what it feels like to be surprised by love, and I couldn’t put all my creativity into describing what that truly means to you. The feeling can be an almost unbearable joy.
But let me backtrack a bit—things are getting way too positive all up in this crib. What does this have to do with money, sexual climax, and attention?
Absolutely nothing! (It was a really small survey).
See, my good people: when it comes to love—money, sex, and attention simply fall flat. In fact, often what we really desire is what we believe money, sex, and attention will give us, which is love. Money buys us things that we think will make us independent and treated like royalty, sex gives us something that we think will dip us into Nirvana, and attention bestows something we desire as a means to achieve the love and admiration of others. See, when we look deep enough into our hearts, we realize that what we’re really saying isn’t, “Fuck, I want to be a millionaire so bad…” but, “Fuck, I want to be loved.”
Now, excuse me while I take a liberty and end my article two hundred words shorter than planned. There is a lovely woman who is, as I imagine it, fervently and desperately awaiting my call to say goodnight. So, sorry there isn’t more but… Well, what the hell: