OK, FINE! Let’s talk about love.

It’s just over a month until my return to the Glasgow International Comedy Festival with “Don’t Talk To Me About Love” (Tuesday 21st March, 6:45pm, McChuills. Tickets here.) Prep is going well. Obviously. I’m amazing.

But, it’s Valentine’s Day aka LOVE DAY. So I thought, fuck it. Let’s talk about love.

Love’s alright, innit? Like, yeah, it’s nice being in love. Especially if that other person is in love with you back. That’s always a bonus.

But, like 10cc, I’m not in love. I fall hard, and I fall fast. And boy, did I fall hard and fast for this man last year! But, shock horror: my heart got broken. I’m in no rush to experience that again. I have a lot of feelings. A lot of intense feelings. Which is hella fun, for the most part. But it’s also exhausting, and draining and hella un-fun. So I’m keeping my distance romantically, and it’s strange. Like, I’m not really used to feeling like this. Just sorta like… yeah, alright. Whateva. Where’s this big intense, love bombing, super romantic and cute girl gone? (Don’t worry, I’m still hot.) I feel… different. Like a proper different person. I dunno if I like it or not. It’s just… different. I mean, I obvz still have feelings. I’m just keeping them under wraps.

Anyways, despite not being in love, I still have a lot of love to give. I love my parents, my niblings, my siblings, my friends, ruling over Improv Killed My Dog‘s Music League with an iron fist, writing and performing.

Most of all, I love myself.

I am very self-confident in my abilities. Very self aware at my skillset, knowing what I’m good at, and what I need to improve on. I’m outgoing, good at engaging in conversation, and – most importantly- very very good looking.

But I’m not that kind to myself. Sure, I give myself compliments all the time, and constantly talk about how good I am at my job, and congratulating myself on being so good at writing. Very good on the self-congratulations. But when the shit hits the fan, and I hit a bad patch, or experience anxiety, irrational thoughts or pits of depression, I am a total bitch to myself. Like a proper, proper horrible cow. Way harsher than I would ever be to anyone else. And that’s not ok.

Valentine’s Day is one of my favourite days of the year, and I usually go all out on my partner. Imagine Leslie Knope. Then multiply that by ten.

This year, I’m gonna Leslie Knope myself. Judybabezzz, I’m gonna treat you right. You deserve it.

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