I think anticipation may be one of life’s most underrated pleasures. We talk endlessly about experiences. The trip. The dinner. The date. The concert. The weekend away. But there is another pleasure that begins long before any of those things happen. Looking forward to them. Sometimes I wonder if anticipation is half the fun. Maybe more than half, depending on the vacation. There is something wonderful about having a small glowing object sitting somewhere in the future. Thursday night. Next weekend. Paris in October. Dinner at eight. Someone you want to see. You go about ordinary life\u2014emails, errands, work, laundry, all the glamorous administrative machinery of being an adult\u2014but somewhere in the background is the thought: Soon. I love that feeling. Travel is especially good for this. The moment a trip is booked, some part of me has already left. I start imagining the hotel. The first dinner. What the weather will feel like. What I might wear. Whether we should make reservations or deliberately leave a night open. I look at photographs. I study maps. I begin mentally packing several weeks before physically packing approximately twenty minutes later than I should. The trip starts becoming real. And none of this costs extra. The anticipation comes free with the reservation. Possibly the only thing in luxury travel that does.<\/p>\n
Scientists have actually studied this phenomenon, which pleases me because apparently even happiness requires paperwork. Research has suggested that looking forward to positive experiences can boost our mood before the experience itself occurs. This makes intuitive sense. The future can send pleasure backward. Think about that. Something that has not happened yet can make Tuesday better. That seems almost magical. Romance may be where anticipation does its finest work. There is a particular pleasure in knowing you’re going to see someone you desire. Not wondering whether you ever will. Knowing. Friday. Eight o’clock. Now Friday has electricity. The hours before a date can be almost delicious. The shower. The perfume. Choosing the dress. Changing the dress. Returning to the first dress. Deciding the first dress was obviously correct and wondering why this required a forty-minute investigation. Music playing while you get ready. A message: “Looking forward to tonight.” Excellent. So am I. Anticipation intensifies attraction because imagination gets involved. And imagination is dangerous. Reality has limitations. Imagination has an unlimited production budget. Before the evening begins, everything is possibility. Where will we go after dinner? How late will we stay? Will the conversation have that easy rhythm? Will there be a kiss? Will there be another? Questions create tension. Good tension. The kind that makes you smile at your phone like an idiot.<\/p>\n
I think this is one reason spontaneity, wonderful as it is, should not completely replace planning. Spontaneous pleasure gives you the experience. Planned pleasure gives you the anticipation and the experience. Two for one. Very efficient. And I am generally suspicious of efficiency in romance. This one I approve of. I like when a man makes a plan in advance. Not because every evening needs military logistics. But because “I made a reservation for Saturday” creates several days of possibility. You know someone has been thinking about seeing you. That is flattering. Attention extending through time. Anticipation also makes ordinary pleasures richer. It doesn’t need to be Paris. Coffee with a friend. A movie you want to see. A restaurant you’ve been curious about. A beautiful weather forecast for Sunday. A package arriving. A book being released. Someone coming home. Little futures. I think a good life needs them. Maybe especially during difficult periods. You don’t need to pretend everything is wonderful. You just need something good on the calendar. Humans seem to tolerate the present better when the future contains a little promise. This makes me think we should deliberately plant things to look forward to. Not fill every minute. That becomes exhausting. Just scatter small lights ahead. A dinner. A weekend. A visit. A day off. A trip. Something six months away. Something next Thursday. Different distances. An emotional runway.<\/p>\n
We do this naturally as children. Children are experts at anticipation. Birthdays are enormous. Holidays take approximately fourteen years to arrive. Summer vacation is a geopolitical event. Adults become more restrained. We’ve seen things before. We know the restaurant will just be a restaurant. The trip will contain inconveniences. The birthday will last one day. Sophistication can quietly become diminished enthusiasm if we’re not careful. I don’t want that. I want to remain someone who gets excited. Not indiscriminately. I am not going to scream because a chain restaurant has opened nearby. Standards remain. But when something genuinely lovely is coming, why ration the pleasure? Be excited. Talk about it. Plan it. Imagine it. Wear the ridiculous expression when the message arrives. There is no prize for being difficult to impress. And anticipation does something else interesting: It makes time feel meaningful. Without anything ahead, weeks can blur. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Repeat. Put something wonderful on Saturday and suddenly the week has shape. Before. During. After. Memory works similarly in reverse. Perhaps this is why experiences are such good uses of money. A beautiful object gives pleasure when you use it. A beautiful experience can give pleasure three times. Before, while imagining it. During, while living it. After, while remembering it. That is an excellent return.<\/p>\n
Romance works this way too. The anticipation. The evening. The memory. Sometimes all three become tangled together. You hear a song before a date and later it belongs to that night. You wear the perfume again and remember the hotel. You pass the restaurant months later and suddenly recall what he said across the table. The experience stretches in both directions. Maybe this is part of why certain moments feel so rich. They occupy more time than the hours they technically lasted. Of course, anticipation can become expectation, and expectation can become tyranny. That is the danger. If you script everything too precisely, reality will inevitably improvise. The restaurant may disappoint. It may rain. Someone may be tired. The perfect weekend may contain a delayed flight and a truly terrible breakfast. Leave room. Anticipate the pleasure, not the perfection. That distinction has saved many vacations. Perhaps many relationships too. Look forward to someone without requiring him to behave exactly as he did in your imagination. Reality deserves a chance. Sometimes it surprises you in the better direction. And perhaps that is my favorite kind of anticipation. Not knowing exactly what will happen. Only knowing that something is coming. Someone is arriving. A plane will take off. A table is waiting. A dress is hanging on the door. There is champagne in the refrigerator. Your phone lights up. “Tomorrow?” Yes. Tomorrow. How lovely to have a tomorrow you’re excited to reach.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I think anticipation may be one of life’s most underrated pleasures. We talk endlessly about experiences. The trip. The dinner. The date. The concert. The weekend away. But there is another pleasure that begins long before any of those things happen. Looking forward to them. Sometimes I wonder if anticipation is half the fun. Maybe […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5610","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n