#222: In what specific way are you annoying?
A quiz, of sorts
Years ago, I developed a theory based on someone I really liked but who was annoying in such a way that I often wished I could select and delete the annoying part while preserving the rest. In time, I realized this person’s problem—a seemingly unnecessary overlay of annoyingness—wasn’t so unusual, and that actually most of us suffered from it to a degree. I’ve tested this theory on myself and various celebrities and friends (love ya), and I think it mostly checks out. So today I’m going to share it with you. If applied correctly and with moral rigor, it just may reveal your specific brand of annoyingness—a revelation that could unlock your potential or send you into a tailspin, depending on your mood.
More on this person (who was from another life, I promise): They were sweet, smart, and weird-in-a-good-way, but so paranoid about being a burden that they were twitching with accomodation at all times. They were so nervous, so guarded, so apologetic that I could never get a solid read on them, and instead spent all my time trying to figure out how to neutralize their anxiety, which made them hard to be around. I found this so ironic and frustrating that I thought about it all the time: The irritating thing about this person was their fear of being irritating! And so the theory, which you may have already guessed or already know in your bones, is simple: What makes you annoying to other people is not the thing you’re worried makes you unloveable, but whatever traits or behaviors or knee-jerk ways of operating you’ve developed to correct for said worry. Sometimes this compensating is a conscious performance, other times it’s imperceptibly baked in.
Before I provide examples (including my own layer of annoying), I want to distinguish this theory from another I’ve shared in the past, which is my belief that everyone’s most difficult trait is tied to their most winning one, e.g. a flighty person might also be fun and whimsical, or a neurotic person might be thoughtful and curious, therefore in order to love them wholly you must appreciate all manifestations of their core being. Dualism, basically, and I’m not the first to say it, but I think there’s a difference between someone’s “most difficult” quality and their “most annoying” one. What makes someone difficult is usually where they deviate from social norms—an authentic “difference,” or uniqueness. What makes them annoying, meanwhile, is usually linked to the ways in which they’re false. Of course, some people are just annoying to their core by nature (shout out to you guys), but that’s not what I’m talking about.
Consider the person who’s afraid they’re not smart enough and thus constantly tries to prove they are. Or the person who fears they don’t belong in the cool crowd and so fixates on becoming someone who does. Think about all the most common insecurities—uninteresting, insignificant, unattractive, ill-informed, fraudulent, needy, foolish, untalented, inconsistent, selfish—then think of the ways we tend to obscure these qualities in front of other people: flexing, grandstanding, being superficial, being a know-it-all, being self-righteous, being passive, being try-hard, being cruel or judgmental, lying, over-explaining. This is the bluntest way to explain the theory, and goes a long way toward understanding why it’s hell to be on Twitter, but offline I think it’s all a lot more subtle.
When I was considering the shape of my own annoyingness, I returned to the Jungian idea of the shadow self. A former therapist once gave me this exercise: Describe your ideal self—the qualities you’d most like to embody—in five words. Then, to find your shadow self, locate the opposing qualities of each one. The shadow self describes the parts of ourselves we most ardently reject and repress. I think my ideal self would be: insightful, generous, authentic, funny, discerning. That means my shadow self would be: foolish, self-absorbed, artificial, humorless, and tasteless. I feel this represents my biggest fears fairly accurately, and in that way, the material I use to develop my own unique ways of being annoying. (I suspect Jung’s concept of the shadow self is more complex than this, but I’m too foolish to know for sure.)
The ways in which I try to shield myself and others from these shadow qualities—being over-eager to prove I’m smart or thoughtful, being neurotic about how I’m coming off, trying to appear effortless in my physical presentation, moralizing everything—are probably my most annoying sides, although I’m sure there are more I’m not aware of (Avi mentioned that I apologize for stories being boring in a way that makes the story more boring <3). One thing the exercise didn’t capture is my fear of appearing out of control/not in command of myself, which doesn’t perfectly map to a positive quality because I don’t consciously revere “controlled” people or want to be one, but it definitely manifests in the form of self-conscious image management, which sounds pretty annoying as I type it. There’s also my professional fear of being under-educated given the kind of writing I like to do, which I think sometimes leads me to intellectual posturing. (Also annoying.) Are you convinced yet? If not, look to the exaggerated qualities of Elon Musk or really any psycho with lots of power for further support of my argument.
Ultimately this isn’t about them, but you, us. I love this theory because it feels like an invitation to release yourself from all the paranoia and self-editing. If it’s true that what makes us most unbearable is all the little tricks we employ to be more bearable, isn’t that kind of sweet? Obviously it suggests we’re all self-sabotaging, which is unfortunate, but it also feels like a path to insight and self-acceptance. So I thought I’d kick this to you: What makes you specifically annoying? But don’t start with that question—you have to reverse-engineer it. Start with your biggest insecurities, examine the subtle adjustments you make day to day to conceal and disprove these parts of yourself, and then, finally, tenderly consider whether you might be shooting yourself in the foot. A little exercise for the annoying masses, i.e. every single one of us. And let me know if it works!
My favorite article I read last week was “Within the Pretense of No Pretense,” an amazing essay by Greg Jackson for The Point that takes a little focus to get through but rewards you along the way. Last Friday’s 15 things also included a New York hype line I actually don’t regret waiting in, a perfect piece of Mandy Moore canon, a cheerful new lamp, and more. The rec of the week was toddler-friendly recipes (because I’m desperate). Thanks for the recs!!
Last week’s podcast was, of course, Dear Danny. We had: a husband that’s become obsessed with his autism diagnosis (or lack thereof); an ex-Morman who’s head over heels for her girlfriend but can’t stop wanting to explore; a guy who doesn’t know how to respond to his girlfriend’s ultimatum; a couple trying to solve a stinky neighborhood mystery; a boyfriend that’s supposed to be remodeling the house but keeps playing video games and going to the pub; and finally a husband who’s addicted to giving bad gifts. Top-tier stuff!
Hope you have a nice Sunday,
Haley
My most annoying quality stems from my desire to be seen as empathetic. I am constantly playing devil’s advocate or trying to see situations from another person’s point of view. This means that I am not good at being the “rah-rah 100% in your corner” friend when my friends need it. Ironically, this makes me unempathetic to my friends’ needs for a cheerleader in that moment.
Years ago you quoted something from Carl Rogers (maybe his definition of “the good life”) and I ended up reading his book “On Becoming a Person.”
He writes about this phenomenon in the framing of defensiveness, showing how a fully self-actualized person doesn’t feel threatened and therefore doesn’t feel defensive. (Eg, insecure about someone else’s success; defensive of self’s talents as a result, as you describe. Not always literal, could manifest in other ways.) It completely changed how I think about my own urges to defend or protect myself from the person I’m afraid I am & easier to recognize that behavior in others as stemming from within them, not me.
I think what makes defensiveness most annoying is its immovability. It feels impossible to dissolve or move past in another person, because they worked hard to build it, as you said about Marnie, brick by brick.