The McGangBang

The year is… 2009? 2010? The specific date has been lost to the mists of time as too, I suppose, have the details that made this moment matter to me. I was young, in an obsessed infatuation of the creepy potentially in a cult kind of high schooler way. His name shall remain private, but if you knew me, you’d know who it was (or at least have narrowed it down; my “crushes” were legendary). And whatever English class or lunch period or hallway interlude we were in -geometry maybe, where he taught me if you mouthed “vacuum” it looked like “fuck you”- the subject of the McGangBang came up.

As far as I know, Mickey D’s was one of three fast food establishments in our tiny, toxic little township. I could be forgetting one; my family was not the type to spend a lot of time there. They kept to themselves at the time, so so did I. My social life consisted of lunch period and the bus ride. I was the type of kid who ceased existing during summers. At the time I resented it, now I wonder if those two months were really enough of a break for everyone else. My family tried to not support McDonalds. Fast food was a treat; we were the kind of people who shared a couple waters at Subways, maybe splurging on a group lemonade. I probably went a good ten years without tasting McDonalds burger meat. I’m sorry, should I have said “meat”?

But the McGangBang- oh, that was the height of cool high school behavior to me. The rebelliousness of ordering McDonalds, the disregard for portion control and good taste, the sheer anarchy of combining two menu items, all a potent sandwich of allure and seasoned to taste with his unholy influence. For all I knew at the time the McGangBang was a sarcastic invention of his in the moment, but to me it was the height of culinary aspiration. A McChicken sandwiched between a double cheeseburger; so simple, so easy, so cheap, and yet almost ten years after our high school graduation and I had been scared to order it. For sure, it was a lot less appealing without the audience. Had I been able to announce during Lunch or musical practice I had eaten one, oh, then we might have been talking. It would have been a weird mix of pride- seriously, it was the fucking dollar menu at McDonalds; everyone else could just… order there all the time…- and quest for approval. His specifically. If someone else had laughed at my boastful announcement, a comment or eye roll from him in my defense would have cancelled out a probably justifiable judgement call. As with all the other attempts I made to “fit in”, I’m sure it would have backfired spectacularly. My ability to twist the normal and mundane into the awkward and cringe-inducing was unparalleled.

But it haunted me in its simplicity, in how not related to him it was, and yet how unable to unentertwine the two I continued to be. I had given birth to a child, but still the nonchalance to order a sandwich eluded me. As with any other facet of any relationship at the time, I had inflated the entire thing. The years stretched on, I moved, I got an associates degree, I got things published, I took up hobbies and activities, I developed a real personality and ability to make friends, and still I did not purchase the sandwich. We hadn’t talked in years (understandably) but I felt as though I could not eat one without being underwhelmed and disappointed or overly invested and disappointed in myself for a reversion to my terrible high school ways. I didn’t want to order it in front of a boyfriend- I had always been an emotional eater, but it seemed to border on emotional cheating. I wanted to be able to explain the importance of the sandwich without admitting the importance of the person who suggested it. I wanted it to mean nothing and everything at the same time; that I could eat a McDonalds sandwich without needing to like the person who had suggested it (so that he could finally get some goddamn peace and quiet) but without denying that the only reason I had wanted the sandwich in the first place was liking him and a need to be liked in return. I had given the sandwich a symbolic quality I could not understand how to break. The problem must be the sandwich, not my confusion of guilt and gratefulness for the feelings that had inspired its presence in my life. I was struggling to understand how to let go of people who had been important, how to balance acknowledging their contributions at the time but not letting them impact your current moment. I felt like I had to pretend I hadn’t existed before my current era- though in truth, this version of me hadn’t- and that if a name, or a story, or even a smile escaped me then it meant I wasn’t over it at all. I thought I had to get rid of everything, the lessons learned, the good memories, the feelings of appreciation and vow to do better, or else people would think I was still too much about it. My brain was designed to remember and analyze, but I felt like I wasn’t allowed to do that; and it kept me nervous, uneasy, and pained about it much longer than if I had allowed myself to go at my own pace and come to terms naturally, over time, and without 100% certainty the conclusions I came to were the correct ones.

But there comes a point where you are hungry, and you are tired of being weird about things in your life. I was slightly depressed, my natural state of being, bored, bored and a little lonely. It was a first night back up to college, after time spent with people I loved and who loved me, where I could remember and analyze to my hearts content. It had been years; why shouldn’t I order a McGangBang? Why couldn’t I decide to make a sandwich out of a sandwich, to get it because I was still curious and I wanted to say I had done it. I had wanted to try it for years, going from wanting it only for his approval to not wanting anyone’s approval at all. I wanted to do it for me, so I just… did it for me. I didn’t give myself time to overthink or overanalyze, to question my motives or get nervous about going out in public. There was no panic or anxiety attack in the drive-through, just the regular feelings of ordering a sandwich and a little bittersweetness, a little sadness and regret- they no longer have the orange HI-C I fucking loved, what is that!?!?!

And you know what? Objectively, for being fast food, it was delicious. He was absolutely right.