The Paradox of Choice

I’ve been thinking about having.

(And giving, and sharing, and receiving.)

Do we like to have, simply to have, or do we like to have, to use? Why do we like to have so much to begin with? Is it because we think we need? Or is it because we simply want?

I definitely experience difficulty (or, excuse me, a lack of self-discipline) in determining wants versus needs, mostly because I need very little but I want quite a bit. 

For example, I like to have DVDs aplenty, but do I actually watch them? Eh, not so much.  Because there’s Netflix, and Seinfeld is on Hulu, and so is The Mindy Project, and if I have free time to watch a show, why not look on Amazon Instant Video, where I could rent a movie I don’t actually own, because I should watch shows I haven’t seen before re-watching “Miss Congeniality” for the 47^th time, right? But if someone might argue that physical discs are unnecessary because you can find anything on the internet these days, I would look horrified and rebut that no, I need to have them in my grubby little hands! What if those movies were taken off the internet or made inaccessible in some way? Having physical copies means that I can access them any time I would like. 

I’ve only recently joined the cult of Spotify, mostly because up until this point, I was scared off by how much I didn’t understand it.  But now that I’m slowly wading my way in and figuring out what it’s all about, my eyes have been opened to this vast, freaking EXPANSIVE musical library available from my computer at work, my phone, my ipad, my laptop….wherever I want it.  So, you could posit, it seems unnecessary to continue purchasing music.  Why have iTunes at all, when you can access all the music you would like and MORE on Spotify? Well…because…I only have access to that music if I have an internet connection.  When I’ve purchased songs, I have them, no matter how much data is left, regardless of whether or not I’m in an airplane in the sky or if I’m underground.  I like the security of knowing that I have my music, no matter what. 

And then, of course, there’s Pinterest.  Don’t get me wrong – I’m in love with it and I think it’s a genius idea and I use it on the daily for sewing tutorials and cake decorating inspiration and recipes, but…does it seem like Pinterest has simply digitized our fascination and obsession with hoarding? I have bookmarked THOUSANDS of links to pictures of succulents, ways to use puff pastry, and inspiration for when I finally buy a home and can decorate my own kitchen.  But people have successfully lived for hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years without looking up internet tutorials on how to sew invisible zippers into a garment or referencing a database of pumpkin carving ideas.  So why is it so essential now? Maybe...just because it’s there? Sometimes I try to go through and cull my pins, asking myself if I really need to know how to make chocolate-dipped strawberries look like they’re wearing tiny tuxedos.  Usually, no, but I like to have access to the resource…just in case.  Just in case there was a formal strawberry emergency?  

So, what is the moral of this story?

I simply like to have things.  Whether those things are tangible or digital, I’m reassured knowing they’re there for me at a moment's notice.

I don’t bring this up to discuss my obviously rampant materialism, but more to present the pervasiveness of this attitude, which extends to so many other areas – obviously books, clothes, restaurants, even how I meal plan. 

But I’m now realizing that this hoarding tendency and this obsession with having might stem less from insatiable greed than from our society’s obsession with HAVING OPTIONS.  

We like the freedom to choose, whether imagined or actual.  We enjoy the independence of asserting our individual preferences, followed by the resourcefulness and promptness of the world in being able to provide us with the exact kind of entertainment or food we crave at a moment’s notice. 

So, hey, what’s the big deal? Why does this matter? So what if people want to have 12 chain restaurants in a shopping area from which to choose their lunch? Calm down, it's not hurting anyone.  I know, I know.  

But I think the reasons this attitude bothers me is twofold:

1. Because I’m paralyzing indecisive.  
2. Because I’ve started transferring this idea to how I treat people, namely in my attitude towards dating.  With the prevalence of social media and various dating apps and websites these days, I find myself plagued with around-the-corner/the-grass-is-greener syndrome, wherein I am unable to fully appreciate one specific person because I’m still anxiously scanning the horizon, like a meerkat, looking for guys who might be taller or funnier or make more money or be more suited to catering to my every whim, mentally swiping left and right on every potential suitor.  At first, I mistakenly conned myself into believing that I was the victim and that ALL GUYS were the culprits, that guys in general had their sights set too lofty on the perfect non-existent girl, and that they weren’t dating me because I didn’t match all of the checkmark boxes on their list for a future spouse.  I projected that idea onto them, without realizing that I was doing that exact same thing to the guys I was dating or at least looking to date.  My obsession with having options and with obtaining even more options had blinded me to my own self-righteous and unfair attitude of entitlement.   

If anything, I’ve realized that having a multitude of options doesn’t make a choice easier.  While we think it would be quite ideal to have more options from which to choose, an increase of selections only serves to complicate the decision-making process.  When faced with a plethora of attractive options, I find myself narrowing in on the possible missed opportunities from my hypothetical trade-offs, rather than evaluating the potential of my singular choice. My uncertainty lies in my inability to entertain every alternative in order to determine whether I’ve made the right decision or not, but once I’ve made my choice, I want to feel good about what I’ve decided, adjusting my perceptions, memory and even viewpoint to accommodate this route where necessary.  If my choice resulted in favorable outcomes, I glory in myself for having made such a perspicacious judgment; if it turns out poorly, I then try to blame the circumstance or literally anybody else. (Think: multiple-choice tests.) 

 “Autonomy and freedom of choice are critical to our well-being, and choice is critical to freedom and autonomy. Nonetheless, though modern Americans have more choice than any group of people ever has before, and thus, presumably, more freedom and autonomy, we don't seem to be benefiting from it psychologically.”  — quoted from Barry Schwartz, The Paradox of Choice, Ch. 5, 2004  

 

I think what I’m ultimately getting at here is a realization and acknowledgement that I need (or is it a want?) to learn to be content with what I have and to stop thinking I need/deserve/am entitled to more.  I hope to stop taking so much for granted and to appreciate what I do have.  (And give, and share, and receive.)

And, for the time being, to take a much-needed respite from online dating.