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I have been in a one-sided, long-term relationship for quite a while now. I’m awful with dates, but it hit me the other day: I’m nearing my ten-year anniversary with my love, Raising Canes.

Ever since they started promoting their tenth anniversary, I realized: 1) I have to stock up on plastic cups and those snazzy little scratch-off game pieces while they’re available; 2) I may have single-handedly helped fund construction of several locations around the country and haven’t been recognized for it—shouldn’t I at least get a brick with my name on it or something? And 3) it’s a little depressing for me and my arteries that fried chicken has been a staple of my diet for ten years.

But I do love it.

I stumbled into Canes a decade ago on a whim after shopping with my family at the LSU Gap, and I was absolutely smitten from the beginning. I bought a shirt to assist in recruiting the citizens of Baton Rouge to try a restaurant where everything is fried except the coleslaw and the special sauce tastes good on everything—again, except the coleslaw. Plus, they sell GOOD homemade sweet tea, not that Nestea crap from the fountain that leaves an awful aftertaste. Unlike other restaurants that confuse me with their multiple menu options, my choice at Canes was either a chicken finger plate or a chicken finger sandwich. I’m still convinced that this is genius, but it only works here.

I remember defending my new love to friends who were convinced Bailey’s was better. Bailey's was a rival chicken shack set up in one of those old Fast Track buildings and was not nearly as good. As is usually the case with complex fast food analysis, I was right: Bailey’s went bye-bye.

Once the Cane’s on Lee Drive opened, I was elated. The parking lot and drive thru were not large enough at the campus location (and still aren’t). The Lee location is where I introduced Canes to my grandparents, who immediately fell in love as well. Like a proud parent, I’ve delighted in seeing new locations pop up all over the city and eventually taking over the U.S. Thankfully, it also gives me an opportunity to switch up the locations that I visit, keeping the staff from making me feel too guilty about my regular habit. I am not overly excited about being reminded that I come by to eat every few weeks and at least twice a week (probably a complete understatement) to get my $1.62 large sweet tea.

Even after the decade of greasy fried memories, I will continue to gladly support our homegrown chicken chain. My cupboard is full of Canes cups from the LSU National Championship, which my boyfriend is being very sneaky about weeding out behind my back. I cannot express his utter delight in the fact that I am accumulating even more just as he narrowed the collection down significantly. I have to advertise somehow when I leave the house with a drink in the mornings. I still have my t-shirt and wear it on weekends, despite fading, a hole and developer stains from the photography lab.

So, keep your fingers crossed for all my friends seen in public with me that I'll win a new t-shirt on the scratch-offs I'm collecting when I get my iced teas. And now, if you see me in public with my broken-in old shirt, you'll understand that it's just because I'm proud.

The things you do for love…