We’ve started a beautiful relationship together that is based on a foundation of trust and honesty, and I just don’t feel comfortable having any secrets between us any longer.
My Mama always said you’ve got to put the past behind you before you can move on. So let’s air it all out. Firstly, I’m wearing panties that say ‘After Party’ on them. Secondly, I ate Chick-fil-A 2 weeks ago….and I enjoyed myself.
You know it’s funny what a young #sadcheerleader recollects? ‘Cause I don’t remember bein’ born. I don’t recall what I got for my first Christmas and I don’t know when I went on my first outdoor picnic. But I do remember the first time I went to a Chick-fil-A.
I know, I know. I feel sick at the thought of the personal consequences of my actions. Chick-fil-A hates gay people and thus if my taste buds hungrily savored that classic hand-breaded chicken sandwich, I myself must hate gay people. That’s just simple algebra. And even though I don’t feel like I hate gay people, I know 1 + 1 = 2, so the Chick-fil-A theory must stand true. This is incredibly hard for me to wrap my head around, and will inevitably mean a drastic change in my current lifestyle. No more boozy brunches, no more highlights at my favorite hair salon - I mean just last month I realized my spirit animal was a gay man! Ugh, this sucks. What am I going to do now with all this extra time I’ll have on my hands? Go to church!? I mean I might be anti-gay these days, but I’m not crazy.
But stupid is as stupid does. God, I tried so hard not to like it! Please believe me!
ANYWAY - for those of you who have a wonky moral compass as well, you should put your pitchforks down for a second and listen up: there is one secret Chick-fil-A in NYC.
I have to warn you though. This mission will be difficult if you choose to accept it. Many obstacles face you. The Chick-fil-A lies within an NYU cafeteria entrapped in an NYU dorm, and get this, is typically surrounded by NYU students. That’s right. This isn’t for the weak of heart.
If you manage to find the location, pass the questioning security guards who look at you like you might have to show ID although you don’t, dart through the food court directly towards the Chick-fil-A stand, pay for the food and then hold your cafeteria tray(!) as you look for an open table to sit at among your “peers” while simultaneously managing the traumatic flashbacks of lunch in high school, you will then have finally earned your ticket to quickly down your sandwich while you listen to college students in Uggs and sweatpants talk about fake IDs and group projects. You’ve done it. But then as soon as you have swallowed your last bite you must IMMEDIATELY dump your empty tray and RUN. And then run some more. Never stop running.
From that day on, if I was going somewhere, I was run-ning!
I should also forewarn you that by visiting this Petri dish of overly-
educatedfinanced scholars, you will undoubtedly have an eye-opening realization about how old you are. Plan on being the only one in there who has a coat and their own personal checking account - of which you’ll be hyper-aware of. All of the toddlers around you will be as well. But ignore their judgey stares. Keep in mind that they can only legally order YooHoos. And they’ll be in your sensible orthopedic shoes in under 5 years.
#sadcheerleader over and That’s all I have to say about that.