I know it was only our first date, but I don't think we should see each other any more.
Surprised? I was. Maybe my expectations were too high. I mean, with a name like "Giant Hamburgers," what Fry Girl wouldn't be turned on?
Sadly, our affair was not meant to be. And I'm not the kind of gal who just disappears without giving a reason. So what happened? The worst thing that could in any relationship.
Let's start with what matters most: you. Under your plain paper wrapping, was more . . . plain. No homemade yumminess, no standout ingredients, nothing that fueled the fry flames of true burger love. I got you with "the works," and let me tell you, they were anything but working. Your burger, your bun, and especially your nasty processed cheese tasted like you were being pimped out the back of a roach coach. And "giant"? No, you're just kinda tall — and only because of all the iceberg lettuce in you.
Is your passionless existence your fault alone? No. Let's look at your creators. My initial conversation with your dating coach went something like this:
"It's my first time at Giant Hamburgers. What's good here?"
(Gesturing to a giant menu board behind us) "Here's our menu."
"I get that. But what do people get here that's good?"
"It depends on what you like."
"That doesn't really help me."
(Handing me a paper menu) "Here's our menu."
I saw more personality in the TV that flashed photos of every single item on your menu. (Two pieces of bacon on a white plate, with the word "bacon" underneath? C'mon, Giant, that's the Sesame Street of advertising). I'm not coming back to your crummy pad, with its weird lighthouse photos. I need a burger whose place can make a lady feel at ease — not fluorescent lighting and lamps hanging so low it felt like an interrogation room.
The food, the people, the eating area — everything about you screamed autopilot.
I'd like to say we could still be friends, but we both know that's not going to happen. I'm sure there must be something to like about you, but when it comes to burgers, I need to feel the love, and at Giant Hamburgers, that possibility seems minuscule.
Sincerely, Fry Girl