Hey, cheeseburger. How have you been? Look, I’m sorry for the way things went down yesterday. I just want to share with you how I’m feeling. Because you are so much more to me than just a cheeseburger I ate last night.
We were a great couple, and I enjoyed all our time together. Don’t ever sell yourself short of that. What happened, the way things ended between us, had absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I have issues with long-term things. You knew that. We both knew it.
When I first met you, I mean, wow. You were a stunner. Two juicy, glistening patties. Thick slices of cheddar. Special sauce for days. And buns that wouldn’t quit. People who don’t believe in love at first sight must have never met you. To me, you were perfect. I didn’t want to change a single thing about you. Even when I was pressured to “change you” by adding pickles, onions or tomatoes, I remained adamant that I didn’t want that. I liked you very much. Just as you were.
I wanted to be with you forever. I really did. I saw a future together for us. Your BFF waffle fries would be groomsmen in our wedding, I imagined. I dreamed of myself as your beautiful bride, adorned in a custom Vera Wang wedding gown made of napkins and mayo.
But now we have to face the fact that it’s over between us. And what I really want to say is I’m sorry. The way I acted was unfair. It was selfish. I ate you, cheeseburger. I didn’t have to eat you, but I did. And I ate you way too fast. I could at least have chewed slower. Or I could have taken half of you home. But you were too irresistible, and I’m a food monster. The love in my heart for you was true. It still is. But the hunger in my stomach was stronger.
In the future, I will try to be better. But, for now, I hope this letter gives you some closure. Oh, cheeseburger I ate last night, may you R.I.P. (rest in pieces) in my belly.
Your lover and destroyer,
P.S. I’ve been thinking of meeting up with your burger brother. I hope you don’t mind.