Caveat emptor—“buyer beware”. If only.

It seems to be human nature to talk up our circumstances to those who are not in them yet, and save the important warnings for those who have already committed themselves. I don’t know why. Like the package for some gadget on a store shelf, we are covered with glossy promises on the outside, keeping dire warnings printed on thin, grimly folded paper on the inside. Are we mimicking the packaging or is the packaging mimicking us?

Maybe it’s a corollary of the fact that misery loves company, or maybe it’s because we fear criticism from outsiders but seek solidarity with insiders. Whatever the reason, it is awfully hard to get a true picture of what awaits you when you are on the threshold of some lifestyle change or other commitment. You might try the technique of a colleague of mine, who, when hearing that “X” is the latest and greatest thing, googles the phrase “I hate X”, finding (if they exist) the bilious testaments of disaffected ex-members.

Is everyone a scheming salesman at heart? Probably not. It might all be explained by full-duplex optimism: a friend of yours tries some new thing and likes it, at least at first; you suspect that the grass is greener on the other side, and they agree, still in the flush of infatuation. Both of you want to move to that green, lush lawn, and if, upon arriving, you reluctantly exchange notes and realize that it is honestly pretty brown—well, at least you’re two forward-looking, cheerful people, working as a team.