You can talk all you want about the virtues of wings, but I’m a burger guy. I believe in beef. I like burgers medium-rare with swiss, guacamole and a tomato.

Steve, though – he loves wings. I’ve seen him eat wings many times, and I understand his willingness to explore, with all kinds of flavors and heat levels. But he’s more often than not going to order chipotle barbeque, and the new sports bar, Recovery, has great chipotle barbeque, at least according to Steve.

Again, I wouldn’t know, because when I’m in a place like Recovery, I’m going with a burger. And on this particular day, I’m adding on sweet potato fries.

“God, the wings here,” Steve says, predictably adding, “And the chipotle barbeque! God!”

“Is it too early for beer?” I ask.

“Noon? Probably,” Barry answers. I’ve never had lunch with Barry. I’ve had lots to drinks with Barry. But I notice he’s reading the menu intently.

“What you goin’ with?” Steve asks Barry. I’m fairly certain, even though I met Barry through Steve, Steve’s never been around him for a meal either.

“I’m not sure,” Barry says. “Just reading through my options here.”

I see an opening. I’m competitive, even when it comes to something as unimportant as which unhealthy lunch option to sell.

“Want my suggestion?” I say to Barry. “Try the burger.”

“Big mistake,” Steve says immediately. “You gotta try the wings. You can get a burger anywhere.”

“Yeah, and wings are rare,” I say. We’re arguing for Barry’s sake.

Barry is tipping his head back and forth, still reading, still concentrating. “Wings, burger. Wings, burger.” He’s going back and forth.

Then he looks up from the menu and at me. “So, what’s the burger all about? Tell me more about it.”

I don’t expect a question like that. “Well … you mean how are burgers here different than other burgers?”

“No,” Barry says. “In more general terms. Tell me more about burgers and why I should order one.”

So, I do. I explain how the meat comes from cattle. How one could order from rare to well-done. How they might come on various kinds of buns with various toppings. I offer my preferred burger as an example.

“That sounds really good,” Barry says, turning to Steve. “And wings? What are those all about?”

Steve explains wings, and because Steve is more articulate and because his subject presents a wider topic, he talks for twice as long as I did, ending with, “And you can’t go wrong with chipotle barbeque, especially here.”

“Bullshit,” I mutter.

“Wings sound really good, too,” Barry says. He pauses, then continues. “I’m a little torn. Ordering wings seems overly complicated. But I do like chicken. A burger, though, might be a little less messy. Although, I don’t care for lettuce. Or beef.”

“Well,” I quickly interject. “You certainly don’t have to have lettuce on your burger.”

“True,” Barry agrees.

Steve chimes in. “I should point out that wings can be eaten with a fork and can often be ordered boneless.”

“Um …” I say.

“What?”

“I have to object to that, because you hate boneless wings. If you’re trying to sell this guy on wings, you have to explain why you hate boneless wings.”

“This is all very complicated,” Barry says.

Steve and I both turn our attention to him, but Barry doesn’t expand on the remark.

The waiter approaches the table. His name’s Chris. “You guys ready to order?”

Barry is looking at me.

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll go first.”

“Shoot,” Chris says, ready to scribble on his pad.

“I’ll have the Home Run Burger with swiss. Medium rare. Guac. Tomato. And sweet potato fries.”

“Sure thing!” Chris exclaims. He turns to Steve, who’s to my right. “And you, sir?”

“I’ll have an order of your chipotle barbeque wings,” Steve says.

“Great choice!” Chris says enthusiastically. Surely this support will shift Barry to the wings.

“And you, sir?” Chris is looking at Barry.

Barry’s attention is shifting from Steve to me, from me to Steve.

“I’m just not sure,” he says.

“Oh!” Chris says. “I’m sorry. Do you need a few minutes?”

“That would be great,” Barry says.

Chris leaves. My expression must be one of astonished confusion, and I bet Steve’s is similar.

“What’re you looking at me like that for?” Barry asks.

“I just don’t understand why you’re having such a tough time,” Steve says. He’s talking with his hands. “And it seems like you’re not acquainted with these kinds of food.”

“I’m just trying to learn as much as I can before making an informed decision,” Barry explains.

“Stunned” might seem like a strong word. But I’m stunned.

“These are two totally different dishes,” I say. “You have two clear-cut choices. You’re either in the mood for wings or you’re in the mood for a burger.”

I pause, though. “Or maybe I’m presuming. Maybe you’d like a salad or chicken fingers. Or you can just have a drink. You don’t have to …”

“No,” Barry interrupts. “I’m determined to choose between these two things. I just want to be sure I’m making the right choice.”

Steve and I stare at Barry. He stares at us.

“I feel like you’re maybe judging me,” Barry says finally.

“What?” Steve says.

“I feel like you two are being kind of condescending. Because you already know what you want … Hell, you’ve already ordered. And I’m still deciding.”

“You have to choose, Barry,” I say. “You just have to choose and hope you made the right decision.”

“But each option offers a different …”

“Jesus,” Steve mutters.

“… advantage. I like chicken, but …”

“I think you should order the wings, Barry,” I interject. “I know I was pushing the burger, but you keep saying you don’t care for beef and like chicken. Obviously, you should order chicken, and I don’t know why you can’t see that.”

Barry seems hurt. He’s just staring at me. Again, he’s staring at me.

“Well, obviously,” he says.  He collects his jacket and stands. “Obviously.”

He looks to Steve. I think he’s hoping Steve will come to his defense, but that’s not going to happen. Steve is just observing at this point.

“Obviously, you know more about what I want than I do!” Barry walks away.

I turn to Steve. “What the shit?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugs. “Some people … they’re just better off not eating.”