But here we are, still together, twenty three years after that drifting together.
You think it would be really fun to have sex with me.
Even if you tell me, “Just say fine,” sometimes the situation looks special to me, and I can't figure out why it's special, so I can't talk. Picture her: The professional ballet dancer who had just quit, and to celebrate, she got breast implants. I told her that we were really ineffective together and I thought we needed some guy there with us to run the show. For example, there was the guy who asked me out while I was an arbitrage clerk at the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. We both like reading about sex, but having it is more traumatic.
But maybe you can also tell from my posts that it's a little bit weird. And sex, which are two of the essential areas of life one needs to be able to function in before you can feel like a normal adult.
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?
To get a sense of how awkward this looks, here's a video that is supposed to be a parody of people with Asperger's interacting with each other. I mean you should masturbate.” I didn't know what to do. I spent the whole evening talking about how hot she is. How are we going to have sex if we keep putting it off? There has to be a game or something.” I said, “Okay. Then he started using other sorts of hand signals (open-outcry hand-signals are way more than just market indicators, believe me.) He flashed the sign for do you want to have lunch (spooning food into mouth for “eat” coupled with pretending to break something between your hands, for “break”). That didn't just make him pursue me with more fervor. We had sex, but he didn't like that it was messy, and I liked writing about it better than doing it. There are little cues you give the other person, a careful touch in a spot you don't usually touch, a kiss that is a kiss that means this-is-not-a-goodnight-kiss, a pointed question like, did the kids fall asleep? He said, “I want to have sex.” I said, “Okay.” Then I said, “Hold it. There needs to be something else.” So we went back to the dance. But a lot of times, he gives one nonverbal cue, like breathing warm and wet next to my ear. I curl up in a ball and tell him I'm too anxious to have sex. I would say, “He's so good in bed.” And now you know what I mean.
I won’t pretend to be an expert on Asperger’s, but suffice it to say that I have dated someone who has it.
To this day, she’s still one of my dearest friends, and one of the sweetest persons you will ever meet in your life.