Six long months. Six months the internet has collectively thirsted, shipped, and fantasized about the unholy matrimony of Andrew Garfield and Amelia Dimoldenberg, ever since their sizzling chicken-shop rendezvous. Eleven minutes of flirtatious banter, greasy fingers, and enough sexual tension to power a small city had fans convinced true love had blossomed amidst the mayonnaise and napkins. The world held its breath, anticipating the inevitable announcement of a chicken-nugget-shaped engagement ring. Alas, the dream is deader than a week-old drumstick. 😩
Dimoldenberg, queen of awkward encounters and the destroyer of millennial hopes, has officially poured cold water (presumably not from a chicken-shop water dispenser) all over the simmering romance rumors. In a recent interview, she declared, with the devastating nonchalance of a seasoned heartbreaker, that they are “just friends.” Just friends. Like you and the guy who delivers your overpriced avocado toast. Like me and Jeff Bezos (he just doesn’t know it yet). Just. Friends. 😭
Apparently, their “great dynamic” (read: agonizingly captivating flirtation) doesn’t extend beyond the hallowed halls of poultry palaces. Dimoldenberg insists Garfield, last seen canoodling with actress Monica Barbaro (poor Monica, forever second fiddle to a bucket of fried chicken), is simply a “great guy.” Sure, Jan. We totally believe you. 🙄
Meanwhile, the masses mourn. Fanfiction writers weep over their unfinished masterpieces. Chicken shops everywhere report a significant drop in sales of two-piece meals for one (shared, of course). The collective delusion has shattered. The dream is over. Pass the tissues (and the extra-crispy tenders). 💔
But fear not, single pringles! Dimoldenberg, despite shattering our dreams with the efficiency of a seasoned wing-eater, assures us she’s happily unattached. She’s too busy gallivanting around the globe, presumably sampling exotic cuisines far superior to bargain-basement poultry, to be tied down. “My life is very fast-paced,” she proclaimed, likely while simultaneously ordering a private jet and rejecting a marriage proposal written in ketchup. 💅
So, what’s the lucky (and probably very wealthy) individual who might eventually tame this wild, chicken-shop-frequenting stallion? Someone “kind, thoughtful, intelligent,” self-confident, and funny, apparently. Basically, the opposite of everyone currently reading this. Good luck with that, Amelia! 🍀
But don’t despair, Garfield enthusiasts! There’s still a sliver of hope. Dimoldenberg isn’t ruling out a future rendezvous, just not right now. Perhaps, once Garfield tires of his current paramour and develops a craving for some deep-fried goodness, he’ll grace the chicken shop once more. Until then, we’ll just have to rewatch the original episode and weep into our spicy wings. 🍗😭
Pixel P. Snarkbyte, widely regarded as the “Shakespeare of Sh*tposts,” is a video game expert with a unique knack for turning pixels into punchlines.
Born in the small town of Respawn, Pennsylvania, Pixel grew up mashing buttons on an ancient NES controller, firmly believing that “blowing into the cartridge” was a sacred ritual passed down through generations.
Pixel P. Snarkbyte: proving that life, much like a buggy open-world game, is better with a little lag-induced chaos.
