If you don’t love me at my freaky you don’t deserve me at my chicy

I had a crying fit at my current favourite man from the rotation. It was brought on because I missed the train. At this point my state of mind was in complete disrepair. I wasn’t thinking straight, so decided it was a good plan to call him and cry to him.

It seems mad now, but at the time it made such perfect sense. FYI this is never recommended for normal people in normal times.

He’s far too cool (and uncaring) to deal with a hysterical girl crying over a missed train. He said some obligatory throw away stuff, such as:

“You’ll get used to it…”
“You’ll be fine…”
“You’re living somewhere so much nicer now…”

These were all things I didn’t want to hear, but then I’m not sure what I even wanted to hear to be honest.

Then he said: “Hang on I’ll call you back!”

He never did, of course.

In fact, he didn’t even send me a pity text…

Of course, I’d have hung up too, I get that. But even I would have at least pity texted later that night, and I basically only really ever think about myself.

It got me thinking about that insipid phrase used by psychos incapable of original thought the world over… Something like: “If you don’t love me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.”

I needed to remix that to suit me and so I penned this. Ready? It’s pretty out there.

“If you don’t love me at my freaky, you don’t deserve me at my chicy.”

Not much of a variation admittedly, but it rhymes, and I think that’s what it has going for it.

Usually my chic self would NEVER show emotions, outwardly. My life’s motto has always been: “Why break down in public when you have a perfectly good bathroom to throw things in?”

I would never tell a man I’m upset because they honestly won’t care. It’s not their fault, they just don’t have the capacity to deal with it. My emotions are for reserved for gays and best friends only.

Having said that, if he, or anyone else in fact, can’t handle my “freaky” phase as I adapt to my new weird life in a new weird world, then you know what? Fck ‘em.

They really don’t deserve me when I’m “chic” and do super cool fun stuff such as ignore them, never cry, never show any emotions. That’s the me they want, but sadly I now come with a Covid warning. Not literally, I’ve never had it, but I come with the ramifications of life in a new home in a new county in a new spooky era of isolation and worry, which means sporadic hysterical fits.

I won’t use my new saying on him, firstly because we aren’t talking anymore, and secondly, he won’t know the word ‘chic’. He will think I mean ‘chick’.