If I were to marry a sandwich, this would be it

All hail the Subway Chicken Pizziola. I never heard of this sandwich, though it is apparently making a comeback.

All I know is that last night, as I walked uptown from 42nd to my apartment on the UES, I passed no less than 12 subway stores, each broadcasting succulent glamour shots of this cheesy/saucy weapon of mass deliciousness.

But I was committed! I would not stop at one of the next 15 Subways I would pass. No! I would go home and gnash on my cardboard flavored Lean Cuisines. I would force my 100 calorie Tasty Kakes down my throat.

The posters whispered to me that the sandwich was only 5 dollars for a footlong.

NO! I mean, there was a tasty (looking) Lean Pocket waiting at home. I didn't need a gloppy, calorie filled, fat dripping sandwich to make my night.

But it had chicken AND pepperoni.

Me: Wow, chicken and pepperoni. Who knew?

Ex-BF Paul (happy birthday!): I did. Deep down. I always knew.

NO! NO! NO! I would not give in to temptation! It wasn't even smart or intriguing advertising! It just had a photo of the melty, toasted, sizzling sandwich. Glistening cheese bathed in chunky red sauce, slices of chicken breast deliciously caught in mid-dance with folded sheets of speckled pepperoni.

Of course I bought it. With provolone and extra onions and olives. And ate of it I did.

But now I've had it! That's it. Just once. Now it can serve as a fond memory.

Like a dead husband.

Or a really good buffet.