I have had a love affair with the ultimate spicy chicken sandwich in the business for many years . . . it has always treated me so – so right with it’s delicately sweet bun, leaf of lettuce, smear of mayo and perfectly fried and deliciously spiced chicken breast. In a world ruled by burgers – it was my haven. It was my respite. It was my shelter. I would drive by it’s home and my Pavlov mouth would start to water – even if I was already full in the belly. It was perfection – and – our relationship was bliss.

Then, something wonderfully disruptive happened . . . a new spicy chicken sandwich moved into town. I found myself looking over and past my old love to try to sneak a glimpse at the new hotness. My old sandwich seemed clunky and thrown together. It’s foibles – which I had found so endearing for so long – were now just blemishes. It’s halo’s shine was dull. It was nothing that I ever intended. It was nothing that I ever could have imagined happening . . . I was officially in love with two sandwiches – with my heart (and arteries) distinctly leaning much harder in the direction of the new – the exciting – the unknown.

It was a delicate situation – and – I knew that I would have to deal with it. It wasn’t fair to any of us to keep the charade going. No one in this triangle deserved to be left hanging. Decisions would have to be made – and – they wouldn’t be easy decisions.

I sat my old sandwich down – for the remainder I will refer to her as Wendy – and explained that it wasn’t her – it was me – and what a horrible person that I was – and that I hated that all of this was happening. She just sat there – crispy, spicy and – no doubt still delicious and said “Does this have anything to do with the new Spicy Chicken Sandwich at Chik-fil-a?” I jumped out of my seat and exclaimed to the sky that “You know it chicken!!”

Then the most magical thing happened. Wendy sighed and asked me to tell her all about the new Chik. Against my better judgement, I just started going on and on about how Chik-fil-a – who was already in possession of the simplest and most perfect chicken sandwich in the universe had done the impossible and made their sandwich even better. I told her about the buttered bun with the two or three pickles placed on top of the bottom bun. I exalted at how the spicy juices had been melded to the chicken through some otherworldly wizardry . . . then I broke down and told Wendy that I loved the new Chik-fil-a spicy chicken sandwich. A tear crept out of my eye. I reached out and Wendy just said “No.” then after a pause that lingered in the air “Go to Chik-fil-a . . . It’s what you want anyway.”

And I did.

After time, the wounds have healed – somewhat. I still see Wendy every so often – but – I know that it will never be the way that it used to be . . . because just over the fast food lunch horizon – there will always be the new Chik-fil-a spicy chicken sandwich beckoning me to come running.

Chik-fil-a . . . you have made the best spicy chicken sandwich on the block. You get a gold star. You get a blue ribbon. I hope that you aren’t some sort of special trial offer – because – I would be lost without you . . . and – at this point – Wendy won’t have me back – and there is no way that I could possible stomach the garbage that they package as a spicy chicken sandwich at Burger King . . . it is truly the pits – but that’s a gripe for another day!