How I Fell Out Of Love With Zooey Deschanel

I'll admit it, I'm fickle. But what I had with Zooey, well it may sound naïve, but I thought it was forever. It wasn't another Lady Gaga situation where the stench of desperation and raw meat and the ever decreasing quality of her music meant I just had to call time on our relationship. Zooey had indie girl credibility. She was married to that dude from that band I don't like. She was in a band with another dude I don't like. But she was also in (500) Days of Summer, which I did like. Not just because Joseph Gorden Levitt is a major babe, but because Zooey stole my heart with her whimsical Williamsburg hipster's-wet-dream charm. “Ringo is my favourite Beatle too!” I remember thinking, my heart skipping beats, fluttering with a new found sense of joy, of elation that I had finally found my soul mate. 

She's so zany and non-commital!

I wanted Zooey to shout “PENIS!” at me in public places, I wanted to brush her beautiful hair and discuss My Little Pony vs. The Carebears with her. Then I saw New Girl and I realised what a macabre charade my infatuation with Zooey had been. She was no cooler than me, not even in that Jamboree t-shirt. I watched three episodes before I decided that Zooey and I are over. No one can say I didn't try. In New Girl, Zooey re-hashes the Manic Pixie Dream Girl she played in (500) Days of Summer but with 1000% added clutziness, kookiness, whackiness and other words you associate with someone who is completely unbearable but you're trying to be polite about. 

My go-to move for bonding with new flat-mates also involves weeping unashamedly in public view.

WHY DOES SHE FALL OVER SO MUCH? WHY IS SHE SO ZANY? HAS SHE EVER MET A SWEATER SHE DIDN'T LIKE? These are the pertinent questions that spring to mind whilst watching New Girl. As an audience we are supposed to find it HI-LARIOUS when our gal Zooey thinks wearing dungarees is acceptable on a first date. Luckily her super-babe, supermodel friend who insists on wearing oddly formal attire at all occasions intervenes and Zooey is made acceptable to the male gaze. She is, however, still SUPER QUIRKY so, you know, GIRL POWER.

The word “kooky” has often been applied to Zooey Deschanel. Kooky is an insult, a nice way of saying bat shit crazy. I genuinely don't understand why her room-mates seem so happy to be co-habiting with a mentally unstable woman-child. I can only hope the season finale involves an intervention in which every cast member informs Zooey that being a flailing, squealing loon does not make you a charming, loveable scamp. It makes you a cunt. I imagine the final scene will involve Zooey looking into the Hello Kitty mirror on her vanity table, gazing dully at her reflection before reaching for the telephone to call her doctor to get a prescription for some mood stabilisers, Lithuium – I don't know, anything to make the flailing stop. 

Giving Jim Carrey a run for his money in the flailing lunatic stakes.

So goodbye Fringe-Face. Don't call me, I won't answer. There will always be a special place in my heart for your hair though.