Not funny at all, just does funny things

A study in spiralling, storytelling, and giving your inner critic a day off

If I could swap one of my existing personality traits for a shinier upgrade, I think I’d go for wit.

Not the “laughs a lot at memes” kind of funny. I mean razor-sharp, effortlessly clever, “how did they think of that so fast?” kind of funny. The kind that doesn’t need a long backstory or exaggerated voices or an “okay wait, let me just rewind a bit” moment.

It’s been a quiet little wish of mine for a while. Nothing tragic. Just a mild envy of people who can casually drop one-liners that make everyone spit out their drink.

Anyway, I mentioned this to a friend recently. Someone I’d place squarely in the “naturally witty” category. The kind of person who could roast you lovingly and somehow make it sound like a compliment.

I said, “God, I wish I was as witty as you,” in that half-joking, half-dead-serious way that makes it sound breezy, even though you’ve actually been thinking about it for years.

He paused for a second, then said, “Yeah, but you’re still fun. You’re always in on everything.”

Which I took as a diplomatic answer. And then promptly overanalysed for the rest of the day.

Later, I was telling another friend about the conversation, relaying the whole thing like an anthropologist doing a case study on self-esteem.

His response:

“Yeah, you’re not funny at all, but you do funny things.”

Now, he was drunk. And to be fair, so was I. But let me tell you, there is nothing more sobering than someone saying, with complete confidence, that you’re just not funny.

At all.

But you do funny things. Like an endearing toddler. Or a very enthusiastic Golden Retriever.

And look, I didn’t cry about it. But I did store it in the same dusty filing cabinet where I keep all my semi-formed personal insecurities, and maybe built a small shrine around it.

For a few days, I found myself mid-story, second-guessing every line. Is this funny? Or just… a thing I did? Was that a laugh or a polite exhale? Do I need to throw in a visual aid?

Then, a few nights later, I was telling the same story (naturally) at dinner with a group of girlfriends. There were side plots. A whole arc. Then, someone interrupted me mid-rant to say, “You are genuinely the funniest person I know.”

Cue the chaos. Everyone jumped in. “You are funny!” “You tell the best stories.”

It was dramatic. It was deeply affirming. It was exactly what I needed.

And it made me realise something, which is annoying, because I wasn’t in the mood for a life lesson that day.

I’d internalised this idea that I wasn’t that funny years ago. It sat quietly in my brain like background music. Then one friend (drunk, teasing, not at all malicious) echoed it back to me and that was all the confirmation I needed. One line from one person overrode years of other people laughing with me, quoting me, calling me when they need cheering up.

Because that’s the thing. Our brains are weirdly loyal to our insecurities. They collect evidence for them like a lawyer building a case. Meanwhile, the compliments? The nice stuff? The laughter and the joy and the people who get your silly little jokes? That gets dismissed as bias. Or luck. Or someone just being kind.

Which is… kind of rude, when you think about it.

So here’s what I’m landing on. No, I’m definitely not the wittiest person in the room. I’m not the person with the dry one-liner or the devastating takedown.

But I’m pretty good at a rambling story. The kind that comes with unnecessary detours, and a punchline we all forgot we were waiting for. I do funny things. I say ridiculous stuff.

And maybe that counts for something.

Because here’s the truth. You don’t always get to pick your labels. You might not see yourself as funny, or smart, or brave. But other people might. And if the same thing keeps showing up in the stories they tell about you, maybe it’s worth listening.

Maybe the lesson isn’t to be louder than your inner critic. Just to give someone else the mic every now and then.

Turns out, you can still be funny. Just... not always on purpose.

And honestly? That’s probably funnier.