One’s youth is meant for bad decisions. A lack of experience, brain development and awareness of consequences makes the late teens and early 20s the perfect time to undertake tasks that one will inevitably regret. Usually, one doesn’t know that they are making a terrible choice. No one really intends to break their arm sledding, even though they knew that there were cars all down the street, and they had no clue how to stop. Indeed, that’s just youthful ignorance. I, however, keep making awful choices with full knowledge of the consequences. On an almost daily basis, I decide to consume beverages that I absolutely despise, knowing I’m not going to enjoy them, but continuing anyway. I find myself regularly disappointed, not in the mediocre drinks I consume, but in myself for undergoing such torture. This is a list of the beverages I loathe but find myself drinking, much to my chagrin.

Coffee

I never drank coffee in high school. I didn’t like the taste, and I slept enough already to avoid being tired. My consumption of coffee in college is an unwelcome change. Over the summer, I fell into the awful habit of drinking coffee every day and telling my coworkers about how much I disliked it. They’d ask me: “Why do you drink it then?” I didn’t have an answer. Every Monday and Wednesday, I stroll into Whispers Cafe and order a triple shot of espresso. Every ounce of my soul screams in protest each time, but I never manage to hear it. I drink my coffee, like the sad adult man I am. I need coffee to get through my extremely long days, but it kills something inside of me, burning it up like an over-roasted coffee bean. I tried switching to tea, but drinking coffee is just the routine at this point.

Oolong

I’m fortunate enough to have never knowingly drank pee, but I know it tastes like oolong. A few years ago, my local Teavana had a sale on an oolong tea and I, a cheapskate, purchased a bunch of it. $20 was a lot of money to high school Dorian. I couldn’t waste it. After the first cup of oolong, I thought, “This really tastes like piss.” I insisted my mom and sister also try it. With no prompting, my mom told me, “This taste like pee.” My sister, the brain genius of the family, declined. Over the course of two months, I finished that oolong tea. Bear Grylls drinks his own pee all the time for survival. But I could’ve drank water. I could’ve drank better tea. I chose not to because of my own frugality. This winter break, I went to a ramen restaurant with my family; and I ordered the oolong tea, forgetting that it tasted like pee. My sister, forgetting along with me, also had a cup. We sipped it together then she poured hers back into the teapot. I finished the pot alone, unwilling to waste $8.

Matcha

A close friend of mine last year told me, “Matcha is good, Dorian! You should try it.” Both of those statements were lies. Matcha is not good. It is just grass-milk. And knowing my propensity to keep drinking things I don’t like, I really should not have tried it. But I did. And now, once every two weeks, I order a large iced matcha and wonder why I am the way I am. People say matcha is good for you. I’m sure it is. That doesn’t mean it’s good for me.

Mr. Pibb

I decided I wanted a bottled soda from Paws & Go last week. Usually, I get a Coke or a Vanilla Coke or a Cherry Coke or a Diet Coke. But I decided I wanted some variety. From my childhood, I knew that Mr. Pibb was like Dr. Pepper if Dr. Pepper dropped out of med school and got extremely depressed. It was strangely spicy and weird tasting. In college, I’d drank a Mr. Pibb once because a vending machine was out of Coke and Cherry Coke. Somehow, it was worse than I remembered. I wound up throwing half the bottle away and accepting that I wasn’t going to get caffeine that day. Professor Andrews, if you’re reading this, this is why I fell asleep in your class. Blame Mr. Pibb. But there I was, last week, in Paws & Go looking right at a Mr. Pibb, begging myself not to buy it. But I couldn’t be dissuaded. I bought that Mr. Pibb. Every time it touched my tongue, it burned like acid. I finished it and wished I had just bought a Coke.

Tonic Water

There’s a reason why I drank the other things on this list. Coffee, tea, matcha and Mr. Pibb have some caffeine and therefore some redeemable qualities. There is nothing good about tonic water. The Congress of the South 40 office had a bunch of bottles of tonic water from an event that they held. There was an entire vat of bottles that were not consumed, likely because tonic water is truly unenjoyable. The initial taste isn’t bad, just a slight sweetness that one might be excused for mistaking for Sprite. However, it has the worst aftertaste ever, like sour milk and soap had an illegitimate child and your mouth is a daycare. The first time I drank it, I wretched and spit it on the table of the office. I told everyone around me that it was the worst thing I ever tasted. I then finished my cup, hating every moment, and then poured myself more. I thought that I could condition myself to not become ill by drinking it. I’ve managed to become desensitized to its flagrancy, but I still have to force it down my throat. My mom described gin as “tasting like death.” I, a minor and a good Christian man, have never tried gin. But there is no way gin is the lesser part of gin and tonic. Assuredly, gin is Simon, and tonic is Garfunkel. When asked by my friends or concerned acquaintances why I continue to drink it, I tell them about how it contains quinine, which wards off mosquitos and malaria. I am not sure I’d prefer tonic water to malaria. I genuinely have no reason to keep drinking tonic water. But here I am, sipping away.

Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, and the act of not enjoying the beverages gives me enjoyment. Or maybe I’m just an idiot. It’s too close to call, really.