I Had A Friend

I have a friend. I had a friend. Had. Have. Definitions...

In Primary School, at age 4 or 5, I met new people. Some of these people I would never see again after High School, some never after Sixth Form. Most of the children/people I met there have just faded out of my life over the years. Either circumstances changed, or neither of us made the effort. It happens to everyone. When I went to university, I found that one friend was a friend of convenience, and we never spoke after that. One friend was a school friend. Another a friend of a friend, who stopped beings friends with that friend. These are reasons I can understand. There are situations though, that I cannot even comprehend.

A friend I knew from the age of 4, grew up with, was friends with, played online with, ate with, was in a band with, stopped communicating with me after 18 years. Meeting up every other week, talking regularly, then nothing. No thing. We knew eachother's custom sandwich order, guys. Our pets recognised the other. Excommunicated. I found out he was getting married by chance on social media.

And the question is "Why?". Some people would have asked that, and having found no satisfactory answer, moved on. But what is necessary is closure. And for an obsessive such as myself, that is difficult. To assert and accept that a large part of your history, even your identity, wants nothing to do with you. To say to yourself, and mean it, that this person has no effect on you. It is not a loss like a death. Death is a circumstance, a fate, that forcefully parts people. There is no choice. My lack of comprehension is that of the choice.

It may not have been one choice. It may have been a thousand little choices, drops in the ocean. But an ocean is made of drops. But here it is now. I still feel a friendship towards, but not from.

I've read that NT relationships are formed and maintained by consistent and regular positive emotions. I agree with the forming of the forming idea, but not the maintaining. That theory implies a jug of water with a hole in it. You need to keep refilling or the water will drain. Are NTs really like that? My jug has no hole. To extend the metaphor, the only way to empty my jug is by human action, but scooping the water out or by knocking the jug over. (as a side, I could try and link this metaphor with "a glass half full" optimism when it comes to personal relationships. I always seem to care more than they do.)

Without two people to hold this jug, it's getting pretty heavy. I'd hope that someone would come and empty it, or help me carry it. But neither of those is likely. A sad note, but everyone needs to vent once in a while.

Finding The One, or Just Someone

Despite my respite from posting, I intend to keep this short. I am starting to read a new book (Asperger Meets Girl) and before I got into it, I had some thoughts.

One problem people with an ASD claim to have is an inability to flirt. However, I have the inability to not flirt. I learned my behaviour by watching others and have been told I can be quite flirtatious. Why am I bragging? I'm not.

I lack the emotional and physiological detection skills to determine personal interest from polite interest. I cannot recognise when I'm being hit on unless I can see the checklist of signs. I, and many other A spies and Auties, must learn a) to recognise how and when to flirt, and b) when the hell someone is doing it back.

I've said previously about an anthropology book on the English, and it was useful. If you are struggling, find something which translate innate knowledge into rules and observations. It will help. I read a recent article about an airline helping autistic children understand and be comfortable with air travel. I am only aware of one place that teaches social skills, and more importantly inter-gender skills, in an ASD designed way. I'm not talking about biology, but psychology. Of course, courses and societies exist that are designed to get your designs. Adult learning for adult interactions.

I'm not interested. Occasionally I have considered making my voice heard, coming out of the very safe and decidedly neat Aspie cupboard because these resources either do not exist or a poorly advertised.