Wendy's, I'm Afraid We're Going to Have to Break Up

Wendy's

We had our good times, didn't we? While BK and McDs duked it out on the airwaves, everyone in the know knew the truth: Wendy's was where it's at. You weren't just "fast food," you weren't just "over-processed, flash-frozen, barely-digestable meat product," you weren't just "another alarming symptom of and significant contributor to the American obesity epidemic," no. You were something special, Wendy's. You were our place. You were my place. I thought we'd always be together.

Don't cry. It's not you, it's me.

Maybe I just got a little older, a littler more mature, a little more boring, that I couldn't just kick back and chow down on the good times, like when I was a teenager, or a missionary, or a hungry young college student. We were wild and restless and carefree way back when, and living for today! You were packed with preservatives, carbs, fat and grease, but we didn't care! For you tasted good and life was for living and living was for today.

Sadly, I just can't seem to enjoy you like I remember.

Maybe I shouldn't have taken that trip to Europe; no offense, but after partaking of Parisian cuisine, you kind of suffered in comparison. Now, I figured that I just needed to re-immerse myself in America, and then I'd forget all about my fancy French rendezvous and return to my first love once more, which was you, Wendy's.

Sadly, that doesn't look like it's ever going to happen.

Cause frankly, while we're being honest....it's not me, it's you.

You got nasty, Wendy's.

Cause I've been talking to my peers, even my own students, and we all agree: Wendy's, you've really let yourself go. Maybe you used to look good, but not anymore. I can't even stand the sight of you now. I derive no pleasure from eating you. You're gross.

It's tragic, really. I derive no pleasure from your food, I don't like your smell, or even your frosty's. That's how bad it's become, Wendy's. Your frosty's now suck.

Wendy's, I'm afraid we're going to have to break up. Whenever I see that smiling little ginger on your road-way signs, I'm not filled with nostalgia, or pangs of remorse for what could've been--just regret, regret for all the years and dollars I wasted on you. I'm leaving you Wendy's, and the whole fast food scene, and lookin' to hook up with something healthy that won't make me feel disgusting the next day.

So long, Wendy's. I'd say take care of yourself, but looks like you've already given up on that. Don't call.