It was recently brought to my attention that many Marquette students have a strong dislike for Pick ‘n Save. I gave up on shopping there last fall when the strawberries I purchased tasted like rubber. As a result, I have formed a new relationship with Trader Joe’s. In an attempt to bring the rest of the Marquette community onto my side, I will publicly declare my love for the specialty grocery store.
My dear, sweet Trader Joe’s,
I’ve been meaning to write you for a while. There are some things I need to tell you. Things I just can’t keep to myself anymore. After our rendezvous last weekend, I knew I had to say something, anything, to let you know how I feel.
I love you, and I don’t care who knows it.
You first caught my eye a few years ago when I wanted to pick up a few snacks for my dorm room. On a cold, rainy Wisconsin night, I stopped in your parking lot. It was only supposed to be a five-minute trip. I laugh now at how naive I was. TJ, when I first walked into your perfectly manageable-sized store, I knew my life had changed for the better.
Your produce might be slightly overpriced, but you make up for it with all your Trader Joe’s original goodies.
My favorite thing about you is that you always surprise me. I think to myself, how is TJ going to rock my world today? Will it be a new latte mix? Perhaps a jar of fig butter? Maybe it’ll be a new cider flavor. No matter what I’m thinking, I always underestimate you.
I don’t need cookie butter. My wallet doesn’t need cookie butter. My waistline doesn’t need cookie butter. But when I buy cookie butter, and your cashier asks if I want a spoon at the checkout line, I know that my soul needs cookie butter.
I know why you put those 49-cent fruit rolls at your checkout. You lure in the young sons and daughters of yoga moms. But guess what? It works on 21 year olds too.
And your pumpkin products – oh, how you slay me with those pumpkin goodies. It’s as though you want me to love no one else but you. And you know what? It works. TJ, your pumpkin butter is the nectar of the gods. That stuff could cure Aaron Rodgers’ collarbone. Your pumpkin waffle mix made me 10 new friends at a brunch last weekend. I’d sell my first child for the ability to eat your pumpkin macaroons 365 days a year.
TJ, the beauty of our relationship is that we don’t care what people think of us. Sure, some people might argue that I’m dependent on you, that I don’t know how to be happy without you. They say its “not normal” to have a mini shrine to you in my kitchen cabinets. These people don’t understand why I’m so in love with you, but you understand. You know how happy you make me.
I keep telling myself I’d be OK living in a different city without you. I’m lying. I’ve looked up your locations in every place I’ve considered moving to after graduation. Long distance would never work for us.
I love you, TJ. I always will.