To all the haters who broke my heart,

I thought we had something. I thought we shared some sort of bond.

I envisioned us spending the rest of our lives, dipping lightly salted chips into guacamole- made fresh every day with all-natural ingredients.

But when we were deciding where to go for lunch and I suggested Mexican...you said you wanted Moe's, rather than Chipotle. Unable to breathe, I asked why, already half knowing that you were going to give me the response I'd been dreading since we started eating lunch together; the response that I had heard in my worst nightmares, but had never actually imagined I'd hear escape from your lips in real life.

"I'm just not a fan of Chipotle. I don't understand the hype."

That utterance broke my heart.

Twelve words. Forty-five letters. You said them...and you destroyed me.

Seeing the raw pain in my eyes, you frantically began to explain, begging me to listen, trying to save what we had.

Chipotle is too expensive, its toppings are lacking, its queso looks like it's already been digested....

You said you were sorry...and I know you meant it. I could hear the crack in your voice, like a tortilla chip snapping in a small, plastic cup of pico de gallo.

But it was too late. Our beef had already been browned. You know what that means.

You forced me to go to Moe's, rationalizing that we had wasted most of our lunch break fighting and would go hungry if I didn't just settle. Eventually, I gave into your desperate pleas.

You were so excited as you gushed over the bacon on your burrito and the free chips and salsa bar.

I couldn't share in your enthusiasm, instead choosing to pick at my food while avoiding your gaze, your questions, and your frequent apologies.

I knew in that moment that I would never, could never, forgive you for forcing me to go to Satan's bathroom for lunch. It was too late for "I'm sorry". It was too late for "we can swing by Chipotle on the way back to the office". It was too late for us.

We'll never talk again. I can't have someone like you in my life any longer. You're a monster who prefers Tex-Mex, over organic. You're so consumed with your ability to order a knock-off "Crunchwrap", that you can't even taste the difference in corn salsas.

I'll miss you sometimes, but I just can't do this anymore. We'll never be able to overcome the deep divide caused by our vastly differing opinions when it comes to quick-service Mexican cuisine.

So Adios....