The people who think they’re far cooler than they actually are, or those who try desperately hard to be so, don’t bother me in the slightest. I know better, and I almost feel sorry for them, in a way, because they seem so perfectly unaware that everyone can see how hard they’re trying.
A Christmas guest speaker at my church one year gave a one-man re-enactment of the Nativity story, and it was nothing short of impressive, but… he went through the entire performance with his fly wide open. I feel much the same way about the would-be-cool-people as I did about that performer.
It’s the people who I know full well are, in fact, cooler than I can ever hope to be who test the limits of my charity. Stop being so much cooler, I want to tell them. Stop being wittier and less awkward and better-spoken and more thoughtful than I am.
It’s silly, of course. None of those people, I realize, have set out to intentionally make me feel inadequate. If I’m being honest, my irritation is probably far less toward them and for more toward myself for being so (in my estimation) uncool. Which is also silly, because there are better things in life I should want, but also because if I really want to be “cool,” I think the first step is to, well… stop wanting it.