No Menu

What do you want? It’s a question asked dozens of times every day, and we answer, and we choose the blackberry yogurt with the ridiculous fat content, and the red and blue shirt, and the glass of water, and all before getting out of bed. Choice is the summation of the human experience, and for those who choose unwisely or incompetently, it is the very definition of all that makes existence intolerable.

I’ll explain, because for those without said affliction, choice has never been a problem. Such people know what they want. Such people, more specifically, are attuned to their fundamental likes, dislikes, and deepest desires, and they live their lives according to such whims in a way which makes them fundamentally stable and happy.

And then there are the rest of us. The people who wonder whether they like the blackberry yogurt because it really tastes better or because it was so highly praised on that food website they read, and because organic food is supposed to taste better, and whether the blue and red shirt is really cute or if they just think that because their friend has one like it.

And am I eating this yogurt with a fork because I’m trying to be ironic and quirky…in front of an audience of myself? Or am I just too lazy to wash a spoon, because I expect such slovenliness from young adults, or have I internalized the cleaning habits of my family of origin? Such conundrums can easily swallow a mind whole, especially before 9am.

Ask a two year old what they want, and give them some options, and they’ll gladly respond. Studies have been done. Nineteen out of twenty toddlers prefer crackers to broccoli (and the twentieth two year old was most certainly a very odd little child). Broccoli is avoided, crackers are sought out, and a life-plan is born. The rest falls into place. Yet as our tastes mature, we no longer know if we prefer crackers or broccoli, or feta, or pesto or antipasto (or what difference lies therein).

Life has become more complex. Factors of social class, ethnic cuisine, pop culture trends, health benefits, and the cooking styles of mother all take their toll, until our taste buds are eroded and we stand confused in the grocery aisle.

I do not know if I like broccoli at all.

When asked what I want, (what I really, really want), I shrug and furrow my brow and try hard to think of what others would want for me, or what I would want for others, because somehow this is supposed to make things easier. Doing is easier, and in an instant I can incorporate all of the social factors and pressures and influences into a single collective action…or more specifically, a choice. But when options are infinite and the questioner specifies that it’s supposed to be what you want, I falter. I don't know. I think.

I choose…I like…I want…

…other people to like me?

My counsellor shakes her head. This is the wrong answer. I am wrong. I have failed the test. I am doomed forever to wander, alone, in grocery aisles.

This is the collective fate of the indecisive.