Autistic Love

With autism, some emotions are like a tsunami; a crashing wave of icy fear, boiling anger, or fizzling excitement, exploding with such force it leaves me breathless.

The intensity is both a blessing and a curse; exquisite and overwhelming in equal measure.

But love, love is different. For some of us, at least. Love is like the tide coming in, slow and gradual, drawn in by the gravitational pull of a partner’s orbit.

As it rises, it washes up against the rocks of our routine, the solid foundations we’ve built to keep ourselves secure among life’s shifting sands.

At first, they may clash, as the stability we hold so dear is challenged by change, but if the tide continues to rise it embraces the rocks, creating an environment where new things grow and thrive.

The rising tide may not look spectacular. An observer expecting to see a tsunami may look and see nothing. It is a quiet love, a subtle love, a love not always stated out loud. A love that whispers in actions rather than words; “my time and space is essential to me, but I have made room for you.”

Delayed Dating

At a recent presentation on autism I took part in, someone asked me about the challenges people on the spectrum face when it comes to dating and love. And this is indeed an issue for many people I know. I mean, dating can be like playing Operation with the circuitry of a nuclear warhead even for those who aren’t on the spectrum, so additional challenges in reading social cues can make it even more difficult and scary.

And while some may see being chronically dateless as no big deal, I’ve met others for whom the resulting loneliness and feelings of being inadequate take a significant toll on their self-esteem. Looking back at my past self, for example, I thought there was something terribly wrong with me when I turned 22 without ever having been on a date.

My usual go-to response when asked about this issue is the standard “don’t worry about it so much, work on yourself first” line. I mean, let’s face it, if we’re constantly down on ourselves and miserable, chances are that’s not going to come across as very attractive. Plus, I personally don’t think it’s a great idea to define ourselves primarily by whether we’re single or not, or to get into a relationship just for the sake of being in one.

But another important factor to keep in mind that, for many of us on the spectrum, our development runs on a different timescale to other people. Dating in particular is often something we get around to much later than our peers. I started dating at 23. One of my colleagues started at 26.  (Some people also simply don’t feel the need to date at all, and that’s fine too)

When I was 16-22, I was convinced I’d be Forever Alone. Turns out I just needed to give myself a little more time.

So if you feel like you’re the only one in your peer group who hasn’t started dating yet, don’t panic, and don’t feel pressured to keep pace with other people’s developmental timeline. Getting to your 20s without ever having a relationship doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. It’s not a race. Different people reach different milestones at different times, and that goes for people who aren’t on the spectrum as well. There’s no shame in being a late bloomer.

Disclosure when Dating

Whether or not to inform your employer that you’re on the spectrum is a hot topic among autistic adults, with many fearing that if they do, their chances will go up in flames faster than Sauron’s optometrist.

A related topic I’ve encountered which isn’t talked about as openly, however, is disclosing one’s autism to a romantic partner or potential romantic partner. Once again, there’s often considerable fear that it will be seen as red flag. Like, fire-engine-in-mating-plumage red. An instant deal breaker.

While this fear may be understandable, I don’t think it’s justified. People can be more understanding and less judgemental than you might expect, and even if they show trepidation at first, this could simply be due to misconceptions about autism, which you can alleviate by explaining the reality to them.

Also, it’s important to remember that while it’s easy to assume that autism was the deal breaker, that may not have been the case. People decide not to pursue relationships for all sorts of reasons. Not everyone is going to be compatible with you, and that’s okay. Learning to accept rejection is vital, not just when it comes to dating, but also life in general. Things won’t always work out the way you want, and if you dwell on the things that didn’t, you’ll be missing out on new opportunities.

But when should you tell them? First date? Third date? At the altar?

Rather than sticking to some formulaic rule, I think it’s best to just play it by ear and bring it up whenever it becomes relevant. (For instance, if you’re uncomfortable with a noisy setting) And when you do, don’t say it like you’re confessing to being a sex offender; try disclosing it the same way you’d inform them that you’re vegetarian or don’t drink. If you don’t make a big deal out of it, they probably won’t either. Remember, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.

I realize this may sound hypocritical after I’ve just written a whole blog entry on the subject, but ultimately, I think the most important thing is to not worry about it so much. I realize that’s easier said than done. But I truly believe, based on not only my own experiences, but also those of the dozens of people on the spectrum I know, that autism is not the romance-torpedoing red flag that a lot of us seem to fear it is.

“Must be Aspie”: Limiting one’s self to dating within the spectrum

I don’t know about you, but to me, courtship is like juggling bars of wet soap while blindfolded, walking a tightrope, and reciting Shakespeare in Elvish.

Apparently I’m not alone in this, especially when it comes to people on the autism spectrum, where the social challenges we face can make finding a partner seem impossible.

There’s an interesting response to this difficulty that I’m seeing more and more often; people on the spectrum ruling out people who aren’t as potential partners, and specifically seeking someone who also has autism.

Now, far be it for me to give anybody dating advice; I’m certainly no expert. But this approach seems to me more harmful than helpful.

Firstly, it generally seems to stem from the view that a non-autistic person would “never go for me” and that they are “out of my league”. This categorizes non-autistic people as being “superior”, and that’s quite a negative and divisive mindset. In addition to damaging one’s self esteem, this attitude also runs the risk of sowing the seeds of resentment.

Another common motivation is that they think someone else on the spectrum will understand them better. While this may be true in some cases, the sheer diversity within the autism spectrum means there’s no guarantee. Furthermore, people off the spectrum are perfectly capable of learning to understand and relate to somebody on it; several of my close friends are living proof of this.

Speaking of living proof, I myself can vouch for the viability of cross-spectrum relationships. My ex-girlfriend was not on the spectrum, I was. We still had an amazing year and a half together as partners, and remain close friends to this day.

Don’t limit your options out of fear you won’t be accepted; love doesn’t discriminate.