Birthday Burrit-Oh No

When I was a teenager, my widowed father got remarried to a woman with two adult sons living in other parts of the country. A few years later, my parents (and I) moved across the country to be near my stepmother’s family, including one of the aforementioned sons. Thus, for the first time, it became significant that this stepbrother’s birthday was the day before mine.

In the lead-up to our birthdays, my parents told me we would be going out to a Mexican restaurant on [Stepbrother]’s birthday. I wasn’t thrilled about this, since I’ve never been a fan of Mexican food, but I figured my stepbrother had the right to pick his birthday venue and I shouldn’t complain. I ordered a dish that looked halfway tolerable, and… “halfway” was too generous. It was the worst food I’ve ever had in a restaurant. Add in the fact that my stepbrother and stepmother were chattering away about people I didn’t know, and I spent the evening thoroughly miserable. The only way I got through it was by constantly reminding myself that it would be my turn the following night.

And then, finally, the evening ended and we went home. Almost as soon as we got through the door, I told my parents that I would like to go to [Diner] for my birthday dinner the next day. They were quite surprised by this; apparently, the whole Mexican restaurant outing was intended as a joint celebration for both my stepbrother and me.

Emboldened by this new knowledge, I informed my parents that I had absolutely hated the restaurant and spent the entire night keeping quiet because I was trying not to rain on my stepbrother’s parade. My parents were again surprised, and they informed me that my stepbrother hadn’t picked the restaurant at all; he apparently didn’t care where we ate, and my parents had picked the restaurant specifically for me.

Um… did I mention I’m really not a fan of Mexican food?

I’m not sure what’s worse: the fact that my parents were so confidently wrong about my tastes, or the fact that it seemingly never crossed their minds to actually ask where I wanted to eat (or to even tell me that the celebration was for me, too).

Fortunately, my parents took me out to [Diner] on my actual birthday, but the whole incident left a bad taste in my mouth (both literally and figuratively).