#i'm autistic and socially inept

[pippin-katz]

“We knew that if Taylor and Nick didn’t feel safe, we would never have gotten that scene out of them.”

I've reread this interview a couple times, and the last sentence hit me differently. My entire chest expanded. I’ve been blabbering on and on about Taylor and Nicholas having to do intimate choreography, and it still blows me away that they did, but that comment is so sweet.

They felt safe. They felt safe with each other. They felt safe with Matthew and Robbie. They were able to perform the most beautiful and romantic sex scene I’ve ever witnessed because they felt safe.

I can't stress the use of the word "safe" enough.

It's impossible to know what they were thinking while filming, but I can imagine that they occasionally got those instinctive nerves, but they were able to keep filming because they trusted each other that much. They could think to themselves: "he's got me".

That is the sweetest, most wholesome thing ever.

Nicholas and Taylor are such close friends and care so much about each other that they're able to do this kind of scene. They know the other would never do anything to make them uncomfortable. They have to be completely vulnerable, but they're okay with that because they trust each other that much. That is such an incredible friendship, and a truly special bond.

It also occurred to me that that trust and safety they felt is probably part of why it feels as intimate as it does. The point of the scene is to show how far Alex and Henry have come in their relationship that they trust each other to do that.

Henry’s unable to “belong to someone else” except for a moment, and he has fallen so in love and trusts Alex so much to give himself to him in literally the most intimate way possible, even if it’s temporary. Alex has never done any of this before, considering he hadn’t truly considered his bisexuality before Henry, and obviously hasn’t had this kind of sex, but he feels comfortable enough with Henry to tell him that he’s nervous and trusts Henry will make sure everything goes right. I mean Henry literally says “trust me, you’re in good hands”, and Alex does.

Trust and safety is literally part of the characters' journeys in that scene. Nick and Taylor's real life trust in each other can provide a genuine base to build off of for Alex and Henry's.

God I wish they could do interviews, I want to hear them talk about it more (if they’re willing). They talked about it somewhat in the pre-conducted interviews, but not to the extent Matthew is in this. Obviously they don’t have to if they’re not comfortable sharing though.

I think this makes me feel so much because I'm personally demisexual and demiromantic, so emotional bonds are very important to me, in general. It's my heart's desire to find someone to love and trust that much, platonically and/or romantically.

PS: Just to be absolutely clear, this is not about shipping Nick and Taylor!! I'm just gushing about their bond with each other! I'm not trying to imply they are romantically involved in any way!

Thanks for reading!! If you enjoyed this essay & would like to support me, you can give me a tip on my Ko-Fi! ☺️

[ms-hells-bells]

is it mean that i legit think that a large portion of young people who claim to be asexual are just socially inept so no one wants to date or have sex with them, leading to a large group of virgins who go 'well, i didn't want to be with anyone anyway!', meanwhile they are constantly hornyposting and talking about how sexually attracted they are to fictional characters?

[piplupod]

feels like the isolation is a gushing wound and going to the centre is just a small bandage. i think perhaps i am not really ever going to feel okay unless something miraculous happens. i am retaining some semblance of sanity now that I'm leaving the house and socializing with non-family more than once a week, but i am still hurting more than I can really tolerate and I don't know what to do about it. there doesn't seem to be a fix for this that I can enact.

[mellotronmkll]

im really excited to see tmbg again tonight cos they said at last night's show (which was really apollo 18 focused) that it would be a lot of songs from john henry which is one of my favorite of their albums. Also whenever I listen to that album I remember how in high school I went to see them for one of the first of many times with a friend who didn't really care much about them but was just like sure it would be fun to see them and she made fun of me for crying when they played the end of the tour as the last song because I was overwhelmed with joy and that's still one of the most foul and rancid unnecessary acts of haterism I've ever been subjected to she wasn't very nice to me in general so it's not surprising but that was so rude like you're gonna make fun of me for being emotional because I'm happy to be seeing a band that I love. That I've loved my whole life and seeing them is just always such a joy and they're just extremely special to me and I just love that specific song so much and had enjoyed the concert so much I started crying a little. LIKE EXCUSE MEEEEE sorry you can't handle that but it's hurting no one. You're just gonna stomp on my happiness like that. But I'm glad I don't talk to that person anymore and have learned my lesson finally after years to not give a fuck if people think that type of thing is embarrassing #fuckthehaters. But its also funny in retrospect because like how are you gonna be embarrassed about me being enthusiastic at a they might be giants show. Who are you trying to appear cool and aloof and ironic to. The other lame ass they might be giants fans? Like I just have to laugh

[dickggansey]

getting really annoyed by my friend thinking she's more mature than me bc she goes to the gym and studies and works so that means she "has her life together" and straight up told me she's "doing better than me" like she's right but she didn't have to say it

[unreality-monster]

You know, it started as suspicion and hypochondria but now i'm like convinced i'm actually autistic and constantly masking and experiencing burnout and severe social anxiety as a result of it and now i kind of want to see a psychologist

[gengarfluid]

annoying people arent always autistic and kyle was clearly making fun of himself

nowhere did i say annoying people are always autistic or vice versa, so i'm not entertaining that - and in comments kyle says he was "a different genre" when asked if it's based off of him.

how you believe it's clear that he's making fun of himself while knowing next to nothing of substance about the man is beyond my ken.

for sourcing's sake, the video containing the screenshot is here

[aph-estonia]

the closest thing to the """trans agenda""" irl is being asked for pronouns only to be disrespected because of other people's headcanons about yourself mattering more than the truth you inform them of

[angelprickandholysemen]

.

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

I wish I gave less of a shit about what people think of me because in my soul I think I'm meant to be a Helaena Targaryan ass bitch who is just unapologetically weird and people put up with it because they find it oddly endearing. Instead I text my boss things like "I will temper her expectations" instead of "I'll tell her we can't do it" and everyone hates me

[corinthiansenamel]

So i talked about male genital torture around a guy who was my friends situationship because i was annoyed he was around. That was supposed to be OUR day to hang. Definitely getting an F- on social interactions. So how's your day going?

[thevoidscreamer]

just a weepy blurb I wrote after I realized why I'm having such a hard time "connecting" with others

CW: religious trauma, s trafficking, cult, trauma bonding, abuse, anxiety, depression, really purple prose, in my feelings

Today I realized that the types of relationships I made in small groups at church, in ROTC, at the brothels in Pahrump, were all formed in high control environments where shared trauma and implicating oneself in “sins” or “crimes” is encouraged as a form of control and enmeshment. These bonds formed swiftly, almost as if overnight – literally in some cases – by way of tried-and-true methods of indoctrination and thought reform. There could be no secrets in these spaces. Every thought must be spoken and known. We strived to achieve impossible goals, punished ourselves when we could not reach them, and encouraged each other to keep trying. These relationships were framed as eternal and unconditional. I did treat them that way, and I felt my intentions were reciprocated, but the result was wildly different to the expectation laid before us by those institutions. The all-consuming, all-encompassing relationships I had, while deeply rooted and very intimate, were unhealthy because they did not allow any room for the self, and they were actually very conditional in an unspoken way. Remain within the culture, and you have unlimited intimate connections. Step outside the line? You are a traitor who is no longer worthy of such intimacy. My reflection follows.

I bared myself, sins, crimes, all suffering and deep gashes to them in these places. The exchange was unconditional intimacy, love, closeness. We were plugged in to one another, so fully that the barrier between us all might have truly been an illusion. Even as I stepped out of our circles, I hoped such depth would continue. In some cases, it did. But suddenly, my world began to dim. Years went by and soon enough I inhabited a realm of shadows. I craved the bright light, the vibrance, of enmeshment. What a joy I had forsaken. And yet also it had forsaken me, for those I had loved so deeply withdrew themselves from me, and rightly so. But now I am betrayed and lost. Even as I seek out new connections, I find each interaction lacking. I was spoiled, joy receptors rotted out and unable to feel anything below the utmost verdant of pleasures derived from hill music and trauma bonds and platitudes we somehow meant with our whole chests. We were twelve. How could we have loved so deeply? They drugged us and told us lies, and our parents dilated our veins while the pastors pushed the needle. We were hacked before we had a chance to form our selves. 

I have today come to understand, in its entirety perhaps for the first time, that what I seek only exists in such cultish environs. I feel lost. I feel thirsty. I feel like there is plastic surrounding me, that no matter how I try, I cannot ever feel the genuine sensation of human skin on my skin other than my own, that my senses will forever be stifled by the cloying scent of my lifelong wounds, even after they close. It is as though I was given heroin from the bottle, and once I weaned myself off it everything felt gray and I didn’t know why. I used things to supplement it for a while – sex with strangers, alcohol, retail therapy, new versions of the same high control environment, new people to rebel against in my quest for closeness, a quest for the ultimate polycule complete with enmeshment and interdependence, too much caffeine, any moment spent on twitter... But now I see it. This excruciating boredom is not the absence of God. This is the absence of dangerous intoxication. This is the obliteration of the joy receptors in my brain through systematic indoctrination. This is not the absence of holiness. This is the absence of human manipulation.

Now I am a hermit in the woods, listening to the crickets and owls and whatever beautiful beast is out there trilling a lonely howl, and I see everything in the shining silver of the waning moon and that unfathomable host of stars up there. This kind of gray is lovely. But the gray I feel when I learn your name or hear your story? That is almost insufferable. You are not boring, but even if there is a spark between us, upon our parting I think that I will never speak to you again. I think that you hate me. I think that there is no instant bond, therefore we are not meant to know more of each other. I proposed with my sins in the first five minutes, but our hearts did not swap spit, our spirits did not fuck, and your dark secrets will never come to the surface. Unconsummated, we part, after hours of this intricate dance with steps and flourishes I was never taught. You watched as I stumbled over formalities and social norms, as I spoke a language you’ve only heard about on deconstructionist TikTok. You could not possibly understand that my interactions with every living human person is tinted gray. No one speaks my language, and I find that yours is simultaneously complex and underwhelming. I see now that you all will always be tedious and gray. Shades of it, sure, but gray nonetheless. Nothing will compare to the deadly, poisonous colors of that flower of thought control. I will never be able to sate the desire for codependence that was built into me from the earliest age. 

Nor should I try. 

Nor should I try.

I left that garden for a reason. I burned those roots to save my life. Were I ever to brew that tea again, I hope that I should dump it, or else take a taste and hate it, lest I be seduced by its intoxication and drink myself into oblivion. There is more death in that one flower than in the entire harvest from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

And now, as I navigate life with this new knowledge, I am aware of my inhumanity. I was hijacked, and while I reclaimed my vessel and my soul, the changes to my gears and mechanisms cannot be reversed. I am worn in ways few others can comprehend. I am broken and fixed with duct tape and rubber bands. I work, but something in me is off. I’m not quite right, and I never will be. So while the others are content in their shades of gray which are, to them, like rainbows and waterfalls of infinite color, I am lost in the loneliness of my own existence, knowing exactly where I can find respite, and also that such refreshment would be my demise. Can I be content to live such a muted life? No wonder so many return to the deadly path touted by those institutions – churches and brothels, preachers and pimps, they’re all the same to me.

And yet… perhaps all is not as dull as this. For even the silver stars have some color. Even the leaves have hues at night. There are smells and sounds and textures to know. There is more radiation in this life than that confined to the visible spectrum. And I feel close now to a revelation; that maybe I can experience the intimacy and vulnerability which I crave, though never again with a living human being. But in nature? In knowledge? In art? In expression? In history? In science? In myself? Therein may be the antidote, the solace, the suboxone that can grant me a life beyond my longing and sorrow. I prescribe them to me now, though my pursuit of them has been long already. Maybe this purposeful application will help ease my ailment, that life may feel colorful once more, even within the grayest of spaces.

Or maybe I’ll just get a dog.

[hmds]

still so pressed about my soon to be ex roommate saying i'm not autistic like girl why do you wanna be autistic? you want attention? you wanna be taken advantage of and abused in relationships? you want random people to hate you for no reason other than you're autistic? what do you gain. really. talk about it

[yvtro]

yeah he's neurodivergent. you can say that.

I like to think that under his age (how young he was turned/how long he’s been a vampire) and his beauty (Botticelli angel my beloved) Armand is just distinctly Other. Daniel wrote it off on account of him being a vampire but then he met other ones, and while they aren’t “normal” either, Armand is just. so fucking bizarre.

[normal-enderman]

Troy is SO fucking interesting because he's like. A societally worthless person (by capitalist standards). Held back in school, grades are probably atrocious, has absolutely no useful skills, barely functioning social skills. And yet, because he's so privileged, the useless skill he does have is enough to carry him through life. If his father is anything like we're imagining, he probably talks to Troy all the time about people who don't work hard enough, people who don't contribute to society, and Troy probably adopts the same contempt for those sorts of people as other members of his social class do without thinking about it. But in all ways except the luck of his circumstances, Troy is one of those people! Furthermore, I believe that's why Troy's father doesn't like him that much - Troy may not have the self-awareness to realise he's functionally no different from the "lowlifes" and "moochers" of society, but his father does. His father is probably disgusted that Troy grew into someone so stupid, so worthless, so completely unsuited for the workforce.

On a second watch of the first episode, it's clear Troy is definitely struggling with some sort of handicap, even if he doesn't realise it, though whether it's a case of nurture or nature is up for exploration. He might be socially inept because he never had to learn to make friends, his father was always there to make sure people were kissing up to him. He might be terrible at schoolwork because he has no interest in it, and why would he try when he can pretty much do whatever he wants with no consequences? On the other hand, he might be autistic, he might have ADHD, he might be dyslexic. Or he might just be stupid! That's ok too! Regardless of the explantion, whether his upbringing damaged his development or if there was always something different about him, it's clear something is holding him back - and I'm excited for the point when he realises that he doesn't fit into the society of Wonder any better than the hybrids of Reclaim do.

[3liza]

I'm developing a new theory of autism that posits that autistic people do extremely well in positions of authority where the human social instinct to tolerate eccentricity to the point of rudeness in authority figures benefits the socially inept person and the deep level of personal care, desire for control and detail oriented aspects of autism benefit their organizations in return