If I mention that I fell asleep drunk on the sofa last night, surrounded by the detritus of a half-consumed McDonald’s meal and empty cider bottles, you might not envy me. But that’s precisely the point: by telling the world, I’m implying that I don’t care that you don’t envy me, and that I am secure enough to report my debauchery without needing to contemplate the consequences. Which is why you should envy me.
