Once upon a time there was a man who was supremely happy.
His life was proceeding splendidly. Years of hard work, combined with an uncommon intelligence, had brought him considerable success. He had attended prestigious schools; he had earned A's. He had a job now, and it paid well, and he liked it. He had interesting hobbies. He exercised. When he had time, he appreciated art.
He had a wide circle of friends. They met together every once in a while in big groups, and photographs were taken, and he was always in them. These photographs showed up on the internet and proved to the world that he was well liked.
Sometimes his friends would argue amongst themselves, but he never got involved with their in-fighting. It cannot be established that he regularly knew about it. He was very busy and rarely saw his friends outside of their big group gatherings. When he did, he talked with them about grand ideas and theoretical models of things and curiosities of the intellect. Their conversations were fascinating, but they were never personal.
He had never been in a serious relationship. It wouldn't do to get too close to anyone; there was the risk of getting hurt. Consequently he was very careful to avoid emotional, and sometimes even physical, intimacy. He termed it "entanglement": a dangerous thing that led inevitably to disaster.
This, you see, was the secret to being a supremely happy man: you just had to make sure that nothing bad ever happened to you.
