This not a stop on the Club Sandwich Tour, just a metaphorical look at relationships.
Suppose you are at your favorite lunch spot, and you are famished. You have before you your usual delicious club sandwich--chicken and bacon with lettuce, tomato and mayo, on three slices of white toast, cut in quarters, pricked with frill picks, and served with a plethora of crispy, salty potato chips. Now, suppose, on top of that mound of light and golden chips, you see a small piece of hair. Say it's an eyelash.
What do you do?
What I would do is this: Throw away the hair, throw away the chip it was on and all surrounding chips. Then eat the rest of the chips and the delicious club sandwich. Wouldn't you?
BUT, suppose you have the bounty of chips and a double-decker sandwich on white toast with frilly picks, but instead of chicken, bacon, or any other filling, the sandwich is filled with shit.
You wouldn't eat any of it. Not even a corner of the one chip farthest from the sandwich. Even if it had been your favorite lunch spot for years, you would never, ever go back.
Well, I wouldn't.