Would you become a vampire? This thought experiment might change how you see your future

Some choices transform us so completely that we can never go back – so how do we decide?

What makes the thought of being a vampire so seductive?

Of course, there’s the obvious appeal – undeniably sexy, long sweeping cloaks, a castle to brood in, and a handful of superhuman abilities. But I think the real seduction lies in something deeper.

The self-annihilation.

The complete surrender to becoming something else. To being so utterly transformed that you no longer recognise yourself. Changed, irrevocably, down to the cellular level.

This idea sits at the heart of philosopher L.A. Paul’s vampire problem – a thought experiment designed to make us confront the enormity of life-altering decisions. The kind that split time into before and after. The kind that turn you into someone unrecognisable to your past self.

Paul first devised the experiment while agonising over one such decision herself: whether or not to have children.

I’d read about Paul’s vampire problem before, but hearing her discuss it on a recent episode of The Tim Ferriss Show recently brought it back to life for me. She asks us to imagine:

You’re wandering through Europe, taking in the sights, when you stumble upon an ancient castle. Inside, you meet Dracula. He steps forward and makes his offer:

"I want to make you one of my own. It’s painless. You’ll enjoy it. This is a one-time offer, and it’s irreversible."

What do you do?

At first, Paul explains, the pros seem obvious. You’ll look incredible in black. You’ll be sort of immortal. You’ll experience the world with an exquisite, heightened intensity.

(Oh, and for the sake of this thought experiment, let’s assume there’s a humane way to drink blood – you’re not being asked to imagine snacking on your friends and family here.)

But then comes the catch. You’ll have to sleep in a coffin. You can never see the sun again. And you won’t just drink blood – you’ll thirst for it.

And that’s the key.

Right now, the idea of craving blood is incomprehensible (to most of us). But if you became a vampire, it wouldn’t be. Your desires, your instincts, the very way you move through the world – everything would change in ways that you can’t yet understand.

So how do you make an irreversible decision when the experience itself reshapes what you value, what you need, and even who you are?

This, Paul says, is what makes transformative experiences so unfathomable.

What’s more, in this thought experiment, the other vampires – the ones who’ve already said yes – swear it’s worth it. “It’s amazing! It gave my life meaning!” they tell you.

But no matter how many testimonials you hear, you can’t actually know what it will feel like until you experience it yourself.

Paul says:

"If you don’t know what it’s going to be like on the other side of the experience, and you know it’s going to turn you into a version of yourself that, right now, you find alien – how do you make that decision? Our usual models of rational decision-making don’t work, because they assume we can predict and assign value to our future preferences."

But when it comes to transformative experiences, we can’t do that.

Maybe this hit so hard because the question of whether I want kids has been an unresolved loop in my mind for as long as I can remember. I won’t get into it here, but deep down, I’ve always felt certain I don’t want them – yet I’ve also changed my mind about enough things in life to know that certainty is never as solid as it seems. You see the problem?

But this analogy extends far beyond parenthood. It’s about all the decisions that permanently alter the fabric of our lives. Just a few I’ve had to make over the years:

Should I call off this engagement? Should I leave this city? Should I get married? Should I go backpacking for a year? Should I have kids? Should I leave full-time work? (And one that felt disproportionately huge recently: Should I get a fringe?)

I’m sure you have your own list.

Some of these choices were obvious. Others, excruciating. But in every case, there was a before and an after. A version of me that had to disappear so another could take her place.

And yet, I’ve found peace in this: There is no right answer. Because we’re wired to approach these choices from the perspective of who we are now.

As Paul puts it:

"You’re making a choice for your future self. The problem is, that future self might have preferences that are completely different than your current self, by definition."

Maybe that’s why this vampire analogy works so well. Because these moments feel like a kind of death. Because, in a way, they are.

The only question is whether the version of you that emerges is one you’re willing to sacrifice your current self to become.

Some choices change you forever. The only person who can decide if it’s worth it, is you.