Social media allows us to share the special moments of our lives with family, friends and complete strangers all over the globe. But the truth is, some of is don’t want to “share” what we want to do is feed our fragile egos which are beginning to rest solely on someone tapping their screen twice. The other harsh truth is that your pic of shrimp scampi isn’t all that special and no one really gives a fuck about your glamorous night at Red Lobster.
We’ve all seen a humblebrag or even written one ourselves (Please see “Humblebrag”: a false attempt at modesty used as a way of telling people about your success or achievements). What I hate most about the humble brag is that on it’s worst day it’s a poor attempt to make momentous out of the monotonous. The humility of the humblebrag assumes that its subscribers are too envious or too dumb to understand the need to prove your life is so much better than everyone else’s because you’re geeked beyond belief about your new Honda Accord. I’m not saying people can’t take pride in their purchases, accomplishments and general experiences in life, but as with anything on the internet: use discretion, And if you want to brag, just fucking do it. Don’t talk about how there’s never any parking on the street while you throw up the peace sign, sitting on the hood of your shiny new Japanese mid-size sedan with the price sticker still freshly posted in the window. Own up to your feeble attempts to say how much you love your life without really saying it and just say, “Stunting on your bitches with my 5% APR!”
What many people don’t realize when it comes to the precious art of humblebragging is that it also highlights your insecurity. It clearly defines your priorities by shining a spotlight on what your idea of impressing others is. For example, I love when girls post pictures of their new boyfriends doing the most mundane shit for them like, “Babe picked up dinner tonight. He’s such a good man.” No, he went to Boston Market like any hungry ass man would do. This does not make him Boyfriend of the Damn Year. Even worse it shows that you’re about to bust out doing the cabbage patch because some dude brought you rotisserie chicken. I hate to break it you babe but you’re not special, hundreds of men across the globe are taking their girlfriends to Cheesecake Factory as we speak and they’re not getting a gold star.
Before you get hashtag happy with the phrase #MyLifeIsBetterThanYours take a few moments to think about the novelty of what you’re posting and exactly why you’re posting it. Because at the end of the day we have to be subjected to this shit scrolling by on our timelines day after day and we want to be entertained, and dare I say, “impressed”: