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It occurs to me that we are all, thankfully, rather different in how we approach the world. Otherwise life would be tediously uniform. That said, there are certain character traits that prove useful when it comes to building wealth over the long haul, and chief among them is the ability to delay gratification.
Delayed gratification is basically the art of not buying the thing you want right now because Future You will probably need that money more than Present You needs that thing. It’s the tug-of-war between wants, needs, and a tomorrow that may or may not require some financial cushioning.
I’ve been practicing this discipline for nearly my entire working life, which is to say I’ve spent decades not buying things, and the results have been rather good. My wife Suzie and I managed to retire at 58 with adequate savings and the sort of financial peace that lets you sleep soundly.
We’re all human, and we all want different things. Take cars, for instance. My relationship with automobiles was always utilitarian. I saw them as devices for getting from one place to another, and any money spent beyond that could be tucked away into retirement accounts. This philosophy served me well, though it didn’t stop me from occasionally thinking, “Yes, I’d quite like a fancy car.”
Which brings us to the curious bit.
Now that I’m retired and could, without too much fuss, purchase virtually any car I fancy, a luxury BMW, say, I find I don’t particularly want to. I could go out tomorrow and buy one with cash, but decades of living the way I have has rendered the whole idea rather foreign. It’s simply not me anymore. The equivalent of spontaneously deciding to take up yodeling…it’s not going to happen.
I think this says something interesting about the hedonic treadmill we hear about. It shows that it’s possible to step off, stand aside, and observe the parade of consumption without feeling compelled to jump back in. You might, after reflecting, decide to buy that luxury item after all, and that’s fine. But at least you’ve thought about it properly.
The ability to pause, observe, and then consciously choose to do or not do something, that elevates the whole business from mere “consumption” to what might properly be called a “decision.” And that, I think, is the real hallmark of financial independence: not only having the money, but knowing what to do with it.
Yep if you’ve got used to not buying luxury spec all your life and practiced only moderate consumerism ( and I say moderate because very few of us go without things like dishwashers or a car), then the urge for “nice things” ultimately pales in favour of experiences.
I think it’s going to be interesting in later life because facing UK inheritance tax, everything will effectively be on 40% discount. Not sure it will convince me to spend on frills, though maybe it might up travel budgets to make things possible ( body and mind permitting).
This really resonated with me. I think the hardest part of delayed gratification isn’t the saving itself, but reshaping your mindset so you no longer feel deprived when you don’t buy something. Over time, you stop seeing restraint as sacrifice and start viewing it as control—and that shift changes everything.
What you said about not wanting the BMW even when you can afford it is the perfect example. True financial independence isn’t about finally being able to spend; it’s about no longer needing to.
I think after a period of time, your mind reshapes by its own accord and takes on the heavy lifting. Delayed gratification goes from a matter of willpower to an unconscious autopilot; getting from point A to point B is the difficulty for most people.
As I sit in my worn out jeans and Kmart t-shirt in front of my hand-me-down laptop, I agree that one can lose the enthusiasm for buying things. I’m not trying to be frugal, I just don’t care about the stuff.
However, I’m going to lunch today with some relatives. My wife and I will gladly pay for the whole table, and everyone can eat and drink whatever they please! Spend your money where and how you want.
Paying for a full restaurant table? I think you suffer from my malady: RSG (Random Spontaneous Generosity). But I agree with your sentiment, I simply don’t care about “stuff”
Update – my sister-in-law won the argument and paid for lunch! But I did try.
Sister-in-law’s can be very persuasive, mine certainly is!
Only a small table!
In 2021-2022 I gave away, sold, or junked about 95% of my possessions. I was relocating, had reached 95% retired and decided to simply move on, both literally and figuratively. There were many, many books and vinyl records. I scanned the old photos and stored them on hard drives, but kept one large box. Much of that stuff is the only evidence that certain things occurred, not that anyone cares. Some of the best parts were not photographed because of work related prohibitions.
The point is, I haven’t replaced any of it, and never will. I have added a few items to suit my current lifestyle. A golf cart, for instance. But I bought a used one when I could have purchased a new one. I too view things from a utilitarian bent. Comfort is nice, but ventilated seats in the auto won’t really improve my life.
A further shift occurred when I was diagnosed in 2023. But that’s another topic.
Very well said Mark. You really captured the essence of delayed gratification. As a guy with a 2012 Camry and a 2003 Yukon XL in the driveway, I can relate. But we did make a decision to buy a late model Subaru Outback and are loving it. It is indeed nice to be able to make decisions instead of feeling compelled to consume.
I once read (perhaps on HD) that our lives can be split into three phases: wanting things, then a period of acquiring things, and then a period of getting rid of things. My life has certainly followed that pattern. I’m now at the stage when I find great satisfaction in getting rid of possessions, at the exact time that I can finally afford them!
I used to love shopping, although this mostly involved looking at things with great longing, imagining how they would look in my house, etc. I no longer love shopping, but when I am in stores I find they are now somewhat like museums to me. I sometimes enjoy looking at the stuff, but I certainly don’t envision taking any of it home!
Emilie, this is such a sharp observation. Thanks for your great contribution.
Thanks, Mark! The three stages idea is not original with me, but it certainly resonated with my experience.
Love this post, Mark. I can relate to having the freedom to do something, yet no longer wanting to do it. The description of your development reminds me of Aristotle’s famous quote, “Excellence is an art won by training and habituation. We do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence, but we rather have those because we have acted rightly. We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit.” You clearly habituated control of your desire, which is now part of who you are.
I’ve been working on a post about my favorite things. House, car, vinyl record habit, wrist watches are a few of those things. The recurring theme with all of them is that I could afford more expensive things, but am totally satisfied with what I have. I realize there comes a point of diminishing return, and that those saved dollars are of better use somewhere else.
Some people never connect the dots that link having money with knowing what to do with money.
That sounds like an interesting post, chop chop, get to it! I want to read.
I love your description of financial contentment. One thing I am experiencing new joy in is using the money I have to help others, instead of splurging on newer and better toys.