I frequently walk 15 minutes out of my way to the bougie-as-fuq co-op in my neighborhood to buy a brick of real French semi-soft Comte or an aged Gouda. But I also love cheaper cheeses of objectively lower quality. I'm not a cheese purist, this is simply about occasion. And there's never an occasion for American.
There is, however, a special time for every other kind of cheese, even the cheap ones: string cheese is a dope snack, Fine Cut Shredded 4 Cheese Mexican is the only thing that suits Ortega tacos, and the cheddar that sits on the shelf next to the butter in the grocery store is exquisite on Triscuits. But when a server asks me if I want cheddar, blue, Swiss, or American atop my burger, I won't even consider the latter.