Sandwich

The image above is a pretty accurate representation of how I used to feel about sandwiches. Sadly, 5 years of continuous full-time employment have resulted in sandwich overload. I no longer feel the unbridled enthusiasm that used to accompany the purchase of a prepackaged sandwich.

Today, when surveying the Greggs refrigeration unit (fridge), I was distinctly underwhelmed by the edibles that confronted me. Chicken and Bacon? "Been there..." Oval Bite? "Done that..." Chicken New Orleans... "GOT THE FUCKING T-SHIRT MATE." After backhanding a Sausage and Bean melt from an innocent bystander's hand, I tearfully fled the premises and collapsed into the foetal position outside the Goodge Street Tescos. How did it come to this?

Day after day of hastily eaten sandwiches has taken its toll, I spend my lunchtimes listlessly perusing eateries in search of a sandwich that I can muster some passion about. My search has so far proven fruitless. Sandwich after sandwich, each indistinuishable from the last. Lunchtime has become a form of purgatory.

I imagine my situation is akin to that which confronts your typical 35 year-old Lothario. After commiting himself to the pursuit of pumpum for nearly two decades, one day he is afflicted by an overdue moment of clarity. As he scans his local Oceana for sexual prey, our friend's denim-bound erection begins to subside and a sudden realisation dawns upon him:
"What am I doing in this hellhole"
This immediate concern is then usurped by the catastrophic existential realisation that:
"I no longer know how to love. I will die alone."

The Lothario's penchant for continued physical gratification has rendered him incapable of participating in a relationship that is both sexually and emotionally rewarding. Sure, he will make the occasional ham fisted attempt at love, but the sentimental guff he attempts to pass off as genuine expressions of love are flimsy and transparent... Like Sainsbury's Basics wine glasses, they will crumble under any serious scrutiny.

The similarities between the Lothario's plight and my own sandwich antipathy are clear, his suffering is just on a larger emotional scale. Below are a couple of fellas that have also reached their sandwich crisis point.