Late-stage autism
I get annoyed when I ask a waiter if I can order, and he says yes, but as soon as I start ordering, he realizes that he doesn’t have his notepad with him, or the computer is not turned on, or something else that causes the process to be delayed for another four to five seconds. I don’t understand why he would answer yes if he’s not ready to take my order. But then, as soon as he has everything ready and set up, I realize that I’m actually not sure what I want to eat.
It is in that brief moment that everything I didn’t want looks way more appetizing. That’s the beauty of human nature, isn’t it? Always wanting what we can’t have? We envy people with traits we don’t believe ourselves to possess. This is a common feeling for people who are on the spectrum. As someone who took a 5-minute quiz on autism, I consider myself an expert on the subject. Here are some examples of what I imagine it to look like (not based on any real-life stories, of course):
You order eight chicken nuggets. Your friend asks to try one, so now you have to get another five because seven is not enough chicken nuggets for one person.
You’re either locked-in or zoned out but never in-between.
You’re a girl, and a guy asks you to be his girlfriend, but he does it on an arbitrary day. You say no because you don’t want that date as your anniversary (but it’s also because you don’t like the guy and you know in your heart of hearts that any guy you like would know to pick a more satisfying date).
You can meet a hundred people in one day and remember all of their names.
You’re good with numbers (although being Asian weakens this signal).
You cannot read a book that doesn’t have the right font.
Even though I had my suspicions, it was still hard to accept that I may interact with the world differently. One time, this guy accused me of being not a nice person after I refused to watch a movie in bed with him, and one of the reasons he cited was that I didn’t want to socialize with the other people in my villa. Truth be told, I didn’t even know they were there. I tune out everything except for the task I’m trying to accomplish. I can be at a poker table with five other people and not hear a word of the conversation they’re having.
I find it easier, as opposed to harder, to socialize this way because there’s an automatic filter for people who are meant to be in my life, but it did take some time to get used to. I hate being seen as “not nice” so much that I’ve let Fascists win in “Secret Hitler” because I wanted to make sure that everyone felt included. Even though my gut told me that some people were lying, I elected them anyway because I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, especially if they’ve never been Chancellor before and seemed to have a passion for it.
It’s been two weeks since my quiz results, and I’ve gone from acceptance to denial to acceptance again. During this time, I got so self-conscious that when a girl saw me doodling in my journal and asked me what I was working on, I responded with, “I’m autistic,” as if to suggest that what I was doing wasn’t normal. She was visibly confused, and I realized that I don’t need to explain myself. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not a disease. It’s an excuse to be an a**hole because you’re not supposed to get mad at someone with a disability. I’ve milked the woman of color card for long enough that it’s no longer fun, but this is a new level of protection that I’ve never experienced before. I haven’t decided how I’m going to abuse it yet, but I’ll make sure to keep you up-to-date.
