We don’t miss what we never had—until we have it. Whether it’s dishwashers, cleaning help, or flying first class, once you’ve had a taste of life’s little luxuries, good luck going back. A funny, honest look at how we’re forever changed by comfort.
I’ve been thinking lately about that old tale of forbidden fruit—not the literal fruit, but the idea behind it. Was it ever really about the fruit itself? Or was it the fear that once you’ve had a taste of something better, there’s no going back to the way things were?
Because let me tell you, from where I sit, that hits a little too close to home.
We don’t even know we want something until we’ve had a taste. Before that, we’re content in our own little bubbles. But once you’ve had the fruit? Oh honey, good luck settling for less.
Take dishwashing, for instance. I used to wash every plate, every fork, every greasy pan by hand—and I was fine with it. I even sort of liked the warm water on cold nights. But then came the dishwasher. Now? The thought of scrubbing a crusty casserole dish with my bare hands makes me question all my life choices. I didn’t know I needed one until I had it. And now I’m ruined.
Same thing with phones. When I was growing up, we had a party line—a single telephone line shared with our neighbors. You’d pick up the receiver and hear someone else’s conversation. Privacy? Ha! We made do. Fast forward to today and you’ll have to pry my iPhone out of my cold, dead hand. It’s not just a phone—it’s my flashlight, camera, calendar, lifeline, and therapist. And don’t even talk to me about battery anxiety. I panic when I hit 20%, like I’m about to lose oxygen.
Then there’s cleaning. For most of my life, I did it all—scrubbed toilets, mopped floors, dusted shelves, vacuumed like a woman possessed. I wasn’t happy about it, but I did it because that’s what you do. Then one day, I hired a cleaning lady. Just once, just to catch up. And oh… my… god. I walked into my house and it sparkled. It smelled clean. The baseboards were dust-free. The bathroom didn’t just look clean, it felt clean. And I didn’t do a thing. After that? I was hooked. Now, when I have to clean something myself, I look at the mop like it personally betrayed me.
But the ultimate forbidden fruit? That came with wings.
For as long as I can remember, I dreamed about flying first class. I always wondered what it was like on the other side of that little curtain. The part of the plane where the seats don’t touch your knees, and your drink doesn’t come in a plastic cup. I used to walk past those people, sipping their wine and stretching their legs, wondering what it must be like to fly in peace.
And now? We’re leaving on vacation this Thursday, and this time, we decided—we’re doing it. First class. As I sit here Looking forward to the trip, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to go back. I wonder if I’ll ever again be satisfied with “just getting there.” Because once you’ve been on the other side of the curtain, it’s awfully hard to pretend you haven’t
The truth is, once you’ve experienced better, even just a little bit, it changes you. Whether it’s luxury, convenience, or comfort, it becomes your new standard. It’s not about being spoiled—it’s about knowing what’s possible. And trying to pretend you don’t? That’s the real challenge.
So maybe that forbidden fruit wasn’t about temptation after all. Maybe it was about transformation. Because once you’ve tasted it, even just once, everything else starts to feel like less.
And no matter how grateful I am for what I have, I still find myself wondering what else is on the other side.
