Trina is pretty—prettier than all of us—but it doesn’t matter because:
She’s always comparing herself to us, which would be fine except:
She does this thing where she disparages herself while venerating you, forcing you to compliment her and knock yourself at the same time, which you could criticize except:
She’s explicitly aware of her self-consciousness, which would be endearing except:
She disparages herself for being self-conscious, which means:
She can’t be herself, which means:
She can’t relax, which means:
She can’t be real with me, which means:
Our communication is limited, which means:
Our friendship is limited, which is why:
Trina will only ever be my peripheral friend, at best.
Allow me to illustrate:
Trina: That shirt looks amazing on you.
Me: Thanks!
Trina: I wish I could wear a shirt like that.
Me: You could!
Trina: Oh sure, except everyone would be staring at my rolls of fat. Look at my stomach!
Me: *trying not to fall into the trap* Actually it’s surprisingly flattering, I bet it would look great on you. It was only $10.
Trina: You always find the best clothes.
Me: They have them in like 3 colors. You should get one!
Trina: They’re probably likely all already taken. Oh my god, could I have used another adverb?
Me: Oh stop, you have excellent grammar.
Trina: L-O-L. What a compliment. Wait, do you feel like I fish for compliments?
Me: Well you’re unnecessarily hard on yourself.
Trina: Oh my god, I hate when people do that! I am so sorry. God, why I am I so annoying.
Me: You’re not annoying.
Trina: No, but I am. You can just say it. I’m annoying.
Me: I can be annoying, too.
Trina: Aw, you’re trying to make me feel better about myself.
Me: Desperately.
Trina: But you know there’s nothing annoying about you.
Me: *Sighs* Sure there is!
Trina: Like what? How funny you are and how nice you are and patient you are and how well-spoken you are and how pretty you are and how good you are at art and sports and Spanish.
And what’s there left to say? Trina always traps you and backs you into this corner where she bludgeons you with compliments that validate her insecurities more than they flatter you. It’s sad but most of all it’s unenjoyable.
There’s a fine line between endearing and annoying. Between self-aware shtick and crippling self-consciousness. The difference is marked by an ability to put in on hold, which Trina cannot. Her self-consciousness is both exhausting and inexhaustible.
And, you know, it really is a pity because Trina is pretty…
prettier than all of us.