'I met my younger self for coffee': Is the viral trend just a cover for humblebragging?

Within the past couple of days, it seems many people have met their younger selves for coffee – and recorded the meeting on social media.

I’m referring to the viral “I met my younger self for coffee” trend, which took off after poet Jennae Cecelia shared her poem with the same title on Instagram. 

The trend typically features a block of prose along the effect of “I met my younger self for coffee and here’s how much has changed” overlaid on a photo or video of the creator.

The act of crafting these reflections is meant to encourage introspection and self-compassion, much like the therapeutic practice of inner child work, which involves addressing past experiences by "talking" to one's younger self. And many who participate in the trend say it has indeed helped them heal old wounds.

But as with many social media trends, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. 

ANOTHER WAY TO HUMBLEBRAG?

Each post documenting a fictional coffee date with one’s younger self seems to necessitate highlighting some degree of personal growth, whether shedding imposter syndrome or fulfilling ambitions.

Personal stagnation or decline, let alone admitting to it, would suggest failure – and self-congratulation is far more palatable than perceived self-pity on social media. The latter may prompt comments to the effect of “things will work out”, a platitude that only serves to ease the commenter’s discomfort as anyone who has shared their struggles knows.

Too many posts thus feel more like a highlight reel than genuine self-reflection, albeit using introspective language to get social validation for one’s successes.

For example, if the post were about overcoming insecurity, it might read: “I met my younger self for coffee. She was late, because she’d been paralysed by thoughts of how to impress me. I told her that she no longer craves external validation, not when she becomes the first person to be country head of her company before turning 30.” (Not a real post, but you get my point.) 

The end result, while presumably unintended, comes across as a humblebrag.

THE PROBLEM WITH REDEMPTION ARC NARRATIVES

This tone isn’t unique to the trend. It echoes the late bloomer narrative, a permanent and predictable fixture in the social media news cycle around the time that the results of a national examination are released.

You know how that goes: Accomplished adults share their poor Primary School Leaving Examination (PSLE), O Level or A Level scores, highlighting those grades don’t matter because they have now achieved a societally-lauded version of success. 

The well-intentioned narrative aims to help those who feel like a failure to understand this period of struggle will pass. But the problem arises when it ironically reinforces the need to hit traditional benchmarks of success.

In other words, self-reflection on setbacks only seems worth sharing in hindsight – if these struggles eventually lead to conventional success or can be reframed as algorithm-friendly personal growth.

But the idea that struggle is always worth it can feel invalidating for those currently wading through the muck or without a neat resolution to prior suffering.

A Reddit thread on r/CPTSD (a community for those affected by complex post-traumatic stress disorder) with over 2,200 upvotes points out that the trend can be “triggering as hell”. 

One commenter said, “It certainly can bring about feelings of envy and loss when I haven't had those opportunities and successes.”

To be clear, criticism of the trend doesn't mean to dismiss anyone’s struggles or introspection. I don’t believe anyone is calling for the oppression Olympics, where the most dramatic life turnaround wins. 

Nor is it about curbing anyone from openly sharing their joy. Besides, it’s worth considering that if certain posts evoke envy, it doesn’t necessarily mean something is wrong with your life. Envy can be a useful signal – not a negative emotion – to highlight what you value and want. 

Rather, the problem with the “I met my younger self for coffee today” trend, like the late bloomer narrative, lies in romanticising struggle.

This behaviour isn’t exclusive to social media. But the nature of online trends, where virality favours simplicity, amplifies the practice of self-mythologising – crafting a personal narrative that gives one’s life a sense of meaning.

Suffering, in other words, is necessary for growth. Or so we tell ourselves to make past pain feel purposeful rather than a random misfortune, sending the underlying message that “everything will be okay” when real life can rarely be whittled down to a pithy quote.

Perhaps the deeper issue is the societal compulsion to frame success as a redemption arc – because triumph is more compelling when it follows adversity – even when a straightforward win feels more authentic to oneself than a carefully crafted comeback story designed to invite admiration.

As a result, this trend, despite its best intentions, can feel performative and lean towards humblebragging.

That said, the trend has spread so quickly that we've already reached the satire and meme stage of its life cycle, perhaps some comfort for those who feel the weight of its oversaturation.

One viral TikTok with over 1.2 million likes has the creator doing an outfit check. The text overlay reads: “I met my younger self for a coffee today. She was such a bitch.”

Another creator with over 994,000 likes took on the trend with a tongue-in-cheek reference to math lessons in school: "I met my younger self for coffee this morning. He asked if I ever had to use SIN, COS and TAN. I said no. Not once."

Meanwhile, when I met my younger self for coffee today, I was dreading it. It wasn’t our first encounter – she calls me out several times a week even before this TikTok trend took off. Sometimes, more than once a day. But this time, I decided to keep it brief.

I told her we should stop meeting so often when everything she needed was in the present and it was waiting for her return, though not for long. She laughed in my face and asked why in the world I assumed she'd listen to me.

She was right, of course. I just didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing I'd been given the same advice by my older self.