Open TikTok at any random hour and you’re guaranteed to see a Utah mom with perfect lashes whispering about soft-swing schedules—right before her water breaks at the nail salon. The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives has turned the once-wholesome #MomTok hashtag into the juiciest soap opera on the internet, complete with surprise labor on camera and enough friendship breakups to make Bravo producers jealous.
But The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives is only the gateway drug. Five fresh TikTok trends are stampeding across For You Pages, ready to hijack your next scroll session. Grab some blue-light glasses—here’s the cheat sheet before tonight’s 2 a.m. swipe-fest.
Nothing accelerates a doom-scroll like unfiltered oversharing, and that’s the entire premise of the “Since I’m bored, tell me…” prompt. A creator snaps a selfie, slaps on a question—“Since I’m bored, tell me the weirdest ick you’ve ever had”—and watches the duet chains explode. Indy100 tracked hundreds of clips in which users revealed everything from Ashley Madison logins to mothers-in-law from hell.
Because the barrier to entry is a single text overlay, the trend scales fast: ordinary viewers transform into storytellers, comment sections morph into group therapy, and each new confession refreshes the FYP dopamine drip. For brands chasing engagement, a well-timed “tell us your worst roommate story” stitch can deliver authentic reach—just be ready for TMI in the replies.
For Gen Z, this TikTok trend has turned into a form of free therapy. But for Gen X, it’s become a bit of a generational gap curiosity—as one comment from an Xer hilariously states, “The Joker could hang me from my ankles, naked, over Gotham City and he couldn’t get me to confess what some of y’all so freely declare.”
The 2008 hit “That’s Not My Name” by The Ting Tings is back thanks to a four-legged remix. In these clips, proud pet parents recite every ridiculous nickname their dog answers to before the beat drops and a canine side-eye appears when the chorus wails, “That’s not my name!” TikTok now hosts hundreds of thousands of videos under the sound, and the trend received a significant boost when Starbucks stitched the audio into a commercial slot during prime time. Viewers love pets, nostalgia, and self-deprecating humor, so expect this audio to stay sticky. Each repost extends the life of the original chart-topper while reinforcing the app’s obsession with animals that exhibit human-like behavior.
Think of #Hopecore as TikTok’s antidote to endless bad news. Creators compile pastel sunrises, old-school movie stills, and voice-over affirmations—“Life is beautiful. I’m so proud of you. Keep going.” These scrapbook-style slideshows drown out the chaos with genuine warmth, and it resonates—the hashtag tops 1.9 million posts and counting.
TikTok trends lead Louisa McGillicuddy explains the appeal to The Independent: “It’s a celebration of the little and big things, reminding you to seek the good.”
Even the high-snark corners of the app admit that the shift feels refreshing; some users schedule “hopecore breaks” before bed to counteract doom-scroll-induced insomnia. The takeaway? Positivity—when packaged in lo-fi montages—travels just as far as drama.
Gen Z women have turned breakup receipts into a form of performance art. Each video opens with a glowing selfie, then cuts to the ex whose behavior “left emotional shrapnel,” and the ex is inevitably—and to put it charitably—severely lacking in the looks department.
Commenters deliver a unified verdict: “Girl, you were doing charity work.” Reddit threads note the trend’s catharsis—and its ability to infuriate Red Pill spectators who claim that “there had to be something wrong with you” to pull such an ugly beast of that magnitude. Yet the format does more than roast exes; it reframes survivor stories as comedy, allowing creators to control the narrative and enabling viewers to process their relationship war wounds collectively. For every swipe, another woman realizes she aimed far too low.
When Lorde released “Man of the Year” on May 29, the single tripped the TikTok algorithm. The driving lyric—“Let’s hear it for the man of the year”—became a sarcastic soundtrack for women exposing gold-standard male flops: ghosters, gaslighters, and garden-variety abusers. Betches notes that videos using the song surpassed 100,000 views in two weeks, with many gathering millions of views, while The Daily Beast observes that the audio has evolved into a cultural reckoning, sparking frank conversations about emotional labor and toxic masculinity.
Most clips end with creators declaring themselves their own “man of the year,” flipping Lorde’s phrase into a self-love mantra. It’s celebratory, petty, and empowering—everything the app’s girl-core audience craves.
TikTok’s culture moves at lightning speed, but each of these moments captures why the platform dominates daily attention: Low-lift formats that invite mass participation, a built-in soundtrack that sticks in your head, and stories that swing between hilarious overshare and genuine healing. Whether you’re a marketer seeking the next viral hook or a late-night doom-scroller looking for distraction, tracking these TikTok trends means understanding the pulse of pop culture right now.
Great write up, useful info for anyone currently seeking to expand their SM base.
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