Rant: Drinking from a Friend’s Cup

My life is filled with anxiety (ex. I was worried if I spelled that correctly so I had to look it up before continuing even though I was certain it was correct) (By the way, nailed it). One situation where this comes into play full-force  (as well as touching on my selective germaphobia, universal guilt and embarrassment, and simultaneous fear of being ignored and noticed by others) is a story as old as time.

I find myself sharing a meal with friends. It is a casual affair, the type where seats aren’t marked beforehand. I’m imagining a location in a booth, but a bar or middle table at TGIFridays would do as well. It’s a large group. Jimmy just got a promotion or Sally is celebrating her birthday. We are celebrating a friend people actually choose to see. Not Fred, who I don’t have any issue with. In fact, he can actually be fun, but I don’t know if he fits into the dynamics of the group. No one likes him enough to throw something for him, so he has to set it up for himself and that level of desperation is a big deterrent for my being in attendance (Yes, I’m Fred most of the time).

So, everyone is gathered to celebrate Brad’s corporate takeover of Old Pete’s Good Tyme Vacums and Printers, laughing and having a good time. I am in between conversations, having lost interest in the story about Margaret’s cat chasing the mailman to your left and looking for an in to the discussion to the right about Olympic events that would be ruined if the show Heroes was real. I grab a drink since the refill-lady just came by, while I formulate an opinion on the possibility that Michael Phelps is some sort of mutant already, but – what the hell?

I didn’t get Dr. Pepper.

I take a quick examination of my surroundings, and that’s when the anxiety kicks in: I grabbed the wrong cup.

Now, normal, well-adjusted people would think/say “oops” and grab their own cup and jump in to postulate that no character would be able to rig Curling. If you are thinking that, then you obviously don’t know me.
At this moment, my survival instincts kick in, and by that I mean my instincts. There is no room for survival in my Doug Funnie-esque brain, only panic. So, I survey my surroundings. There are two things I am looking for: a pair of knowing eyes that saw what I did, zeroed in on me and the phantom grab by the guy sitting next to me for his 23 flavor drink.

Let's run through the circumstances:

-Knowing eyes, no phantom grab: I find the most decorated location in the restaurant. The more decorated, the better, because the best option I have is to distract the knowing eyes. “Hey, what does that sign say?” or “Does that fake shark have a fedora?” (Available for any TGIFridays or any other chachki-based establishment) usually works for me. Once their attention is diverted, rid yourself of that cup ASAP.  

-Phantom grab, no knowing eyes: I keep hold of the cup till the person realizes I have it and start examining the cup like it's a foreign substance. Maybe even sniff it like that would determine anything. "What are you drinking?" I ask.  Hopefully I'm not drinking the same thing. I could lose face then (because sniffing the drink isn't weird at all).

-Knowing eyes, phantom grab: That's when I own up to it. Call attention to it and say "Anyone else's drink taste weird? I don't think mine has enough syrup." Take another sip out of the friend's drink, but don't user the straw this time. "Yeah, I only taste 16 flavors of this. Something is definitely wrong with the machine."

-No knowing eyes, no phantom grab: (aka "the dream scenario") I put the drink down as I should've done to begin with. No one cares either way.

I wish I could say this is not actually the way I think, but it is. Even at the time I know it's crazy. No one at the celebration of Nancy's canoeing to the Maldives will remember it by the end of the night even if everyone sees me drink from the other person's cup, but it's not about other people for the same reason I get stage fright when I am practicing a speech alone. That's why I am still embarrassed I drank from the wrong cup at Wicks months back, even though no one noticed...