Part 2
Who Is Allowed to Drink What? The Myth of “Men’s” and “Women’s” Drinks
You can read Chapters 7 and 8 here…
The dinner is over, but the story of “men’s” and “women’s” drinks continues. What happens when stereotypes give way to genuine human connection—and, in the future, artificial intelligence begins helping people choose what to drink?
Chapter 9
When the Evening Ends
Dinner ended much later than either of them had expected at the beginning of the evening.
At some point, they stopped paying attention to the waiters, the music, the people at the neighboring tables, the time, and even the food they had ordered.
Their conversation had turned out to be unexpectedly easy—without the exhausting caution and self-imposed limits that so often accompany first meetings between adults.
They talked about work, travel, other places and other people, music, old films, habits, and that strange age when you begin to value solitude more and, at the same time, grow increasingly tired of it.
Gradually, they discovered that they had acquaintances in common. At different times, they had been to the same places, attended the same concerts, and had probably even found themselves somewhere very close to one another more than once, without knowing then that the other person existed.
Sometimes life has a strange way of deciding when and where people are meant to meet
Just a few days earlier, they had been trying to figure each other out by the groceries in a shopping basket. This evening, they had been doing the same thing through clothes, watches, jewelry, the choice of restaurant, and the drinks they had ordered.
Now, all of that was gradually fading into the background.
Because a person is always far more complex than the signals others use to “read” them
The candle had almost burned down, and the glasses were empty. But the most important outcome of the evening was that two people had become a little less like strangers
When they finally stepped out of the restaurant, Denver had almost settled into the night. The snow had stopped. The air was still cool, but the sharp, biting wind that had driven both of them into the same supermarket line a few days earlier was gone. Was that fortunate or not? Who knows? We certainly don’t, and we won’t pretend to guess.
They lingered outside for a few more minutes, continuing a conversation that, for some reason, neither of them seemed ready to end. Then they said goodbye, and each walked toward their own car.
Somewhere between the last echoes of their conversation, the empty glasses left on the table, and that chance encounter in a supermarket checkout line, something rare had quietly appeared, something adults often recognize only after the fact, yet almost never mistake. Their interest in each other had become far more important than all the cultural scripts through which they had first tried to understand one another.
Will this story continue?
Perhaps.
Or perhaps not.
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“He”
On the drive home, he found himself returning several times to the evening they had just shared.
Strangely enough, only a few days earlier, he had imagined her very differently. A bottle of alcohol in her shopping basket, a few casual words, the way she carried herself—and his imagination had already begun filling in the rest: her personality, her habits, even the life he assumed she lived.
Now he realized how little any of that had to do with the real person.
“She turned out to be more complex. More interesting. Sometimes unexpected. Confident in some ways, uncertain in others. And nothing like the woman I had invented before we ever met.”
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“She”
She was thinking much the same thing.
“Perhaps I rushed to conclusions at the beginning. Clothes, a watch, the choice of restaurant, the drink he ordered—it all seemed like a set of clues that would let me understand him quickly.
It turned out they didn’t.
Behind those familiar signs was someone far more interesting than I had imagined. And, even more unexpectedly, someone who was a lot like me. He probably knows what loneliness feels like. He’s afraid of growing older and feels it more deeply than he lets on.
And, like me, he wanted to be understood. I think he was hoping to meet someone with whom that might actually be possible.”
Back home, she unexpectedly found herself smiling as she remembered a small moment from their conversation. Perhaps, at that very same time, he was remembering something she had said.
Each of them thought they were alone with their thoughts. Neither He nor She knew that, for the first time that evening, their thoughts had come remarkably close
But neither of them could know what the other was thinking.
And perhaps, for now, they didn’t need to.
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Chapter 10
The Near Future
About fifteen years passed. It was now the year 2040.
A man and a woman took seats at a bar. It was hard to tell whether they had arrived together or had simply walked in at the same time.
An attentive reader might find something familiar in their gestures and the way they looked at each other. Were they the same couple? Or perhaps they were entirely different people.
Many years had passed. The waiter had been replaced by an AI bartender, the restaurant table by a bar counter. But somehow, certain gestures and glances seemed strangely familiar
Behind the counter, there was no bartender anymore. Instead, there was a perfectly smooth surface, soft ambient lighting, floating menu projections, and an AI system that knew far more about its guests than even the most experienced bartenders of the past. It recognized their mood, the time of day, and the weather. It analyzed their voices, remembered their order history, estimated their stress levels, monitored biometric data, and considered countless other factors that people ordering a drink might never even think about themselves.
The robotic bartender asked,
— What would you like today?
— What would you recommend for a woman?
— Please specify your taste preferences, — the program replied. — The parameter ‘woman’ contains no information about alcoholic beverage preferences. Gender, age, and social role are not taste characteristics.
— What flavors are you in the mood for today? — the program continued. — I can suggest several options.
Such a system never tries to understand them. It simply matches drinks to patterns stored in its database. AI will have no prejudices. But along with them, it will also be free of human curiosity. It will never ask itself:
— I wonder why she chose bourbon?
For the machine, these are simply data points: flavor profiles, alcohol strength, sweetness, acidity, food pairings, aromatic families, preference statistics, and the biochemistry of taste perception.
It will never wonder what lies behind someone’s choice. It will make no assumptions. And because it makes no assumptions, it will never be wrong.
It will never invent stories.
For it, bourbon will simply be bourbon. A cocktail will simply be a cocktail. And the person sitting across the bar will be nothing more than a collection of parameters and preferences to be processed.
People, however, will still keep trying to understand one another.
A selection of drinks appeared on the illuminated display. None of them was labeled as “for men” or “for women.” By then, such a distinction might seem as peculiar as many of the customs of the past seem to us today.
People will choose drinks for different reasons: taste, mood, memories, or the company they’re with.
It would seem that the old stereotypes had finally disappeared. But perhaps people had simply traded them for new ones
Once, society told them:
— You’re a man. This is what you’re supposed to drink.
Or:
— You’re a woman. You should choose something else.
The problem is that no drink has ever been able to tell the whole truth about a person.
A woman holding a glass of bourbon may be far gentler than someone else’s imagination expects.
A man drinking rosé may be far more self-confident than someone who prefers a “traditionally masculine” Scotch.
And behind the most predictable order, there is sometimes not banality at all, but simply someone who is tired of constantly performing for other people’s expectations.
Sometimes that performance succeeds.
Sometimes it is a complete illusion.
And perhaps that is the most fascinating part of human interaction.
Fortunately.
Technology will allow guests to disable the Artificial Intelligence’s recommendations whenever they wish and order whatever they choose.
But the most important question will remain unchanged:
Can people truly understand what they themselves want?
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Chapter 11
Over thousands of years, alcoholic beverages have served as symbols of power, masculinity, femininity, freedom, respectability, rebellion, and success. Society has constantly rewritten the rules, deciding who should drink what, where, and under what circumstances.
Eras, drinks, rules, and those behind the bar all changed. What remained unchanged was what mattered most—people still needed someone sitting across from them
Some drinks became “masculine.” Others were labeled “feminine.” Then time passed, society changed, and those perceptions changed with it.
The drinks themselves, however, knew nothing about any of this
Will the very idea of “men’s” and “women’s” drinks eventually disappear?
In the foreseeable future, that seems unlikely.
In the past, society prescribed that:
• a man wasn’t supposed to drink sweet beverages;
• a woman wasn’t expected to drink strong spirits.
These expectations were genuinely enforced through shame, etiquette, and reputation.
Today, things are far more relaxed. The younger generation enjoys much greater freedom in this respect.
Yet the paradox is that cultural associations do not disappear as quickly as people imagine. They simply move deeper—from explicit rules into subconscious impressions. Someone may sincerely believe they are completely free of stereotypes…and still instinctively think that:
• a man holding a brightly colored cocktail looks just a little less “masculine”;
• a woman drinking whiskey neat seems a little too confident—or too tough.
Human beings are social by nature. We constantly interpret one another through visible signals.
Restrictions may eventually disappear. Associations are far more persistent.
Because they live on—in films, advertising, memory, family traditions, collective culture, and even language itself. Expressions such as “a rugged whisky,””a feminine cocktail,””a serious wine,” or “a girl’s prosecco” reveal just how deeply these ideas have become embedded in our perception.
And that is probably irreversible.
Not because stereotypes are inevitable, but because cultural associations are.
Human thinking itself is built on symbols. The impulse to interpret other people is as much a part of human nature as the impulse to tell stories.
Perhaps they are, in fact, one and the same.
Why are we so quick to judge a person by what is in their glass? He noticed a bottle of alcohol in her shopping basket—and immediately began constructing an image of the woman he thought he had seen.
She noticed his clothes, his watch, the restaurant he had chosen, and the drink he ordered—and immediately began constructing an image of the man sitting across from her.
Both observed carefully.
Both drew conclusions.
And both were wrong.
Not entirely—but wrong nonetheless.
Perhaps that is why people sometimes find it so difficult to understand one another
Yet by the end of the evening, they discovered that everything truly important had begun only after they stopped paying attention to those signals.
Their conversation lasted much longer than either had expected. The glasses and plates gradually emptied. The candle had almost burned down. Outside, night had fully settled over the city.
Perhaps, only toward the end of their evening together, did they truly see—and understand—the person sitting across the table.
We do not know whether they ever met again.
Nor do we know whether it was really they who, many years later, sat at the bar in that AI-driven future.
We can only wonder whether they eventually learned to choose their drinks without worrying about what anyone else might think.
Some questions are better left unanswered. Because from the very beginning, this story was never about what men or women drink.
It was about why we so often try to understand a person by the glass in front of them—while forgetting to simply look at the person sitting across the table.
The centuries changed. Drinks changed. Rules changed. Even the people standing behind the bar changed.
One thing did not.
One thing never changed. We all still needed someone sitting across from us
Sometimes, in trying to understand the drink, we finally see the person in it
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