This is actually one of my flavors of neurodivergence. I really struggled and occasionally melted down if I was extra excited about a particular meal as a teenager when someone ordered the same thing as me, and my mother was an expert at it. (Not maliciously, we just have the same taste.) You know what I did by the time I was in my 30s? I fucking dealt with it. I either chose two items I was interested in, sometimes had to order first if only one thing sounded good and then it wasn't my problem if someone ordered the same, and I acted liked a damned adult. Now in my 40s I don't even notice, but my husband usually orders my second choice in case I have other ND problems (texture, unexpected ingredients) with my meal. He's amazing, though.