6 Times Our Summer Crush Turned Out To Be the Hamburglar

Ah, summer love! Are there any two greater words in the world, aside from “Netflix password” and “Duff McKagan?” There is nothing quite like the thrilling, sweaty feeling of falling into a summertime fling, knowing that these few months of sticky, muggy, mosquito-ridden weather will be all you have. Like they say, being young and in summer love is near close to being Duff McKagan himself.

Not for me, though. Though I’ve had more than my share of summer lovin’, they have all ended the same: with the discovery that the person I had fallen madly in love with was secretly the Hamburglar, the most loathsome member of McDonaldland. 

Janie James: When I was but 13 years of age, full of wonder and confusing hormonal anger, I met a girl named Janie James on the beach one beautiful July afternoon. We spent the day together, talking about our hopes and dreams, and how Duff McKagan’s departure from Guns N’ Roses in 1997 was the end of the band, reunions be damned. A day of McKagan talk worked us up an appetite, and it was only when I bought a sloppy-mustard burger from a seaside stand that Janie tore off her horrifically hyper-realistic human mask to reveal the Hamburglar, seize my dinner, and disappear in the winds. 

Petunia St. Petunia: Fast-forward to the end of high school! I was pondering my superlative (Most Likely to Be Arrested at Duff McKagan’s L.A. Bachelor Pad) one steamy July evening, when who should throw a rock at my bedroom window but prom queen Petunia St. Petunia. I had always harbored a thing for her, and after I cleaned up the broken glass from my window, we embarked on a torrid exploration of each other’s bodies for the summer. That is, until I quit my job at the seaside burger shack and Petunia stopped, mid-coitus, to reveal the face of the Hamburglar, and tell me she no longer had a use for me. 

Hank: Like most, I broadened my horizons the summer after my freshman college year. In fact, I left the broads behind and took up with Hank, the hunkiest slab of beef who ever taught me about love behind a Marie Callender’s location. Unfortunately, later that night, I saw a news report that Hank had been arrested for stealing 27,000 hamburgers from my college’s cafeteria. His point of entry? My meal card. His real name? Hamburglar.

Countess Emily of McDonnallandshire: I really should have Googled “McDonnallandshire” to see if it was a real place, but when you’ve bumped into a glamorous Scottish countess while attempting to purchase a copy of Duff McKagan’s second solo album, Beautiful Disease, you’ve got sultry July stars in your eyes. Long story short, the Hamburglar framed me for the murder of Ronald McDonald. That’s why he’s not around anymore.

My Wife: This one is too painful to discuss. Suffice it to say, if you should stumble upon a Tinder profile one boiling night in July, begin chatting with her, start dating, fall in love, get engaged, book Duff McKagan as the wedding singer, and notice too late that every single item on the caterer’s list is some form of burger, swipe left.

Grimace: Yes, after years of summer crushes being crushed to scalding-hot July ash by the Hamburglar, I took refuge in the arms of his best friend: Grimace. We made love like comets exploding, and he told me everything would be alright, someday. That is, until I heard him whisper “robble robble” in his sleep and everything came crashing into place, like the final track “Don’t Look Behind You” on Duff McKagan’s underrated Tenderness album. 

I left Grimace’s Malibu beachhouse that night and never looked back. I knew that if I stayed for even one more day, what I would find. 

Hamburglar, my enemy, my love. Fuck you, man.

The post 6 Times Our Summer Crush Turned Out To Be the Hamburglar appeared first on HARDTIMES.