Aspie women dating
In the years between twelve and nineteen, I had taught myself a lot — forcing myself to go out and read faces as you would a foreign script, learning to figure out certain movements and postures.
But it did not come naturally to me, as it does for most people.
Once cannot have it both ways, and while no Aspie owes an explanation to the world, understanding the diagnosis and what it means while being a woman can cause a tremendous shift in daily functioning and in world-view.
When this happens, it can be impossible not to acknowledge.
Having Asperger's Syndrome as a female is to live in a world that is aggressively and consistently assumptive.
Our peers assume incorrectly and so do the mental health professionals that we work with.
So instead I fell back on words — the safety of which I could understand, as their clarity left nothing to puzzle over or decipher.
“I have to tell you something about myself, something important,” I said to my boyfriend. I could have pursued it, could have explained how difficult school had been: how I’d gone to see lots of educational psychologists before finally being sent down to London to see Francesca Happe, a specialist in autism, who — after one hour of tests, which seemed like games at the time — diagnosed me with Non-Verbal Learning Disorder, a form of autism.
We were lying on a bed in a University dorm, a girl and boy who at nineteen were taking our first tentative steps into the world of relationships. It meant that while I was bright, and loved reading and chatting, I struggled desperately to read social signals.
So I’ve spent my life teaching myself the rules for what to do in each social situation. Surround yourself with people who can effectively guide you through rules. And me, the aspiring professional beach volleyball player. He was on the phones, picking up orders, and I'd stand in the British Pound pit, flashing hand signals to him to tell him what was bid and offer. He would not go down on me, so I started writing obsessively about his not going down on me. But then he saw that I don't know left and right, really, and my math skills end, largely, at third grade, and I am an idiot savant when it comes to memorizing statistics about Gen Y tendencies at work. And he has learned that the only way to get me uncurled is to talk to me. He says what he's doing with his hands, what he is feeling, what we will do, what I have done, he tries to stick to facts. And he does not expect me to move or speak, until I've heard enough verbal cues to get back in the game.
I study people, make notes for myself, and then test the notes to see what other situations my notes apply to. I tried, and then we both agreed that I couldn't. She spent the whole evening talking about how smart I am and how many books I've read and how strong I am. He'd flash back a hand signal like, buy ten at twenty. To get rid of him, I told him I was a lesbian and I only wanted to date him if there could be another woman there, too. Notice how there's one theme here: I have no idea how other people think about sex. Do not get obsessively sidetracked by things that do not require social interaction. Like the time he told me he couldn't do it because he had a toothache. Just tell me you want to have sex.” So a day went by, and he did that. Sometimes, when the farmer was dumping me, and people were saying, how can you stick with him?