Milkshakes

I never understood the draw of vanilla milkshakes.

I don't mind vanilla ice cream, but usually it's best when paired with something else. Vanilla and chocolate. Vanilla and strawberry. It kind of cuts through the strong flavors and brings a creamier, calmer flavor. But on its own, it's kind of...bland.

And that is most often highlighted in milkshake form. You can look at the vanilla milkshake and think, this should be good. It's something that some people find pleasure in. I spent money on this.

But then yet, you realize, what the hell? It's really nothing special. It's like milk...really thick, cold milk.

Interestingly, the vanilla milkshake is somewhat symbolic of life when things, well, aren't so great. It's all a vanilla milkshake. You know it should be good. Other people are happy. But it all suddenly becomes sort of bland. It's not really worth complaining about, because, you know, you aren't going to throw the milkshake away. A lot of people have vanilla milkshakes. You remember you should be thankful you have one to begin with, even if it's not like you remember. Because you remember chocolate and strawberry and mocha latte.

And you're not giving up the milkshake you had, but you still remember: those were so much better.

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There's not exactly a resolution to this. It's not some deductive analytic piece where the answer is already formed. I guess it's more of a thought on how many people get in this vanilla milkshake situation, where everything loses its flavor.

Because the funny thing about milkshakes is, they usually come in the same opaque container. You can never tell who has what flavor.