Everyone hopes that they will get happier and wiser as well as older. And you know what? Sometimes they do

I met my younger self for coffee. She wore a crisp white Agnès B shirt and patent ballet pumps; I wore H&M elastic waisted trousers and the T-shirt I wore to the gym the day before. She ordered … hang on, hang on. First, isn’t this a time-travel no-no? And if it’s OK, I have questions. Say I met my 20-year-old self – is it 1995, meaning weak filter in the hippy cafe with cakes that taste like horse food? Or 2025, when every second shop serves violently acidic espressos? (Either way, I need to prepare my stomach.) And how have I lured her out? Because she may be naive, but no way would she agree to coffee with “your future self”. That’s plainly a trap.

This whimsy, you may not be surprised to hear, is a TikTok trend. Based on a poem by Jennae Cecelia, it has been enthusiastically adopted by the youth (how are you dewy-faced babies meeting your younger selves – what are they, foetuses?). The formulaic videos are set to the kind of acoustic crooning that makes my husband instantly switch the radio to Capital Dance and wow, are they earnest about their lost, hurting youthful selves and self-actualised current incarnations. Aren’t gen Z supposed to be jokey nihilists? “We hugged and I told her I am becoming everything she had ever wanted me to be,” goes TikToker @earthtoapryl’s version (2m views). “I told her she’s full of purpose and has taught 10 million people to love themselves,” says another, and if you aren’t cringing your entire body inside out reading that, you’re probably not a gen X cynic.