Wednesday night, a guy I know vaguely and have had all of two conversations with asked me out on a date. This caught me off guard, but I said yes, because I've been wanting to see how I do in that type of situation, now that I know myself a little bit better. I even felt completely calm and confidant, strangely enough, as I accepted. Normally I would be going out of my mind terrified about it, as I tried to act casual. He actually asked me probably the perfect number of days before the date, too: I got a couple of days to prepare and get my mind ready, but not enough for me to really start panicking. The night before, and the day of The Date, I was starting to feel like I do before a big performance, stomach churning, muscles tense, paranoia sinking in.
Actually, I'm surprised I didn't do worse: my performances, I'm usually preparing for for weeks or months in advance, and even though I'm nervous, I know my part well, and I know from experience that I'll do very well (and that once I get going, I sometimes even forget the audience is there anyway). You get none of that, for a date. You have to perform without any preparation. You've got to be ready for them to ask you any number of things, and actually have answers for those questions (like, "what's your favorite band?" What? People have favorite bands? How the heck am I supposed to respond to something like that? There are too many to choose from! Why are you doing this to me?!), and you have to be able to ask them questions, and actually listen to their answers (okay, so, I've got a list of stock questions, like "what's your favorite color" or "where'd you go to school?" but, who cares? No offence. If it was actually something interesting, then it's probably too forward to ask them about, on a First Date. Stupid small talk. Why did Neurotypicals invent it, anyway? Do they really like it? Really?) I have to be able to know what to do if he's actually a horrible person and tries to roofie me, and what shirt I ought to wear (I mean, you don't get a costumer for dates, not like for a show). The whole thing is just a big mess.
He wanted me to drive to his house, and we would drive together to the theater (we were going to a place an hour away. I later found out it was because his friend was in the show, but I thought it was just such a random thing), and I was tense about having to walk up to his door, alone, and knock (of all things) (for some reason, I am absolutely terrified of going to someone's house alone. Doesn't matter if I know them or not. I don't know why.) I was absolutely certain someone else at his house would answer, and I would have to awkwardly let them know who I was there for, and then awkwardly wait for him to come out, and probably have to awkwardly engage in small talk with whoever had answered the door.
But I left my house anyway, and felt it was a good sign that my favorite song currently playing on the radio was the first thing I heard, and I sang happily to it while following directions from my GPS. I had dilly-dallied quite a bit before I left, so I wouldn't be to early. He said to be at his house "at 6:30", and I'll be darned before he finds out how terrified I am about being late for things, so I made myself wait. I got there at 6:33, so I was pretty pleased with myself, and, even better, he was actually outside, in his car when I drove up, so I didn't have to knock on the front door! He didn't do this on purpose, I am sure, but man, was I grateful.
We took off, having cheerful conversations. I had wondered before if I should tell him I'm an Aspie, right off the bat, but (like my sister said, back here) I figured it was better for people to develop their own opinions of me, before I start throwing out stuff like mental disorders and what have you. But I did know that it was perfectly okay with me if I seemed weird or quirky to him, and if he felt like asking me, I felt perfectly comfortable telling him about my "big secret." At one point, we randomly started having a conversation about turn signals (can you guess who started, and maintained, that topic? Yep. That would be the autistic chick.), and I mentioned that sometimes I try to figure out what kind of music I could write to the rhythm the clicking noise makes, and he was kind of flabbergasted about this, and said "I can honestly say, I've never thought about that," which is weird, because he's a musician, and he actually plays drums, unlike just about every other one of my musician friends, myself included, so rhythm should be his thing, but whatever. I told him it was okay, that I think a little differently/I'm kind of weird like that (first of any kind of hint that I'm autistic) I mentioned this movie, which he'd never heard of (can't believe it...) and how ever since I saw that, I've tried to see what kind of music I could make up from what I heard, and he could dig it. He said he does that a little, but I wonder if he was just trying to "fit in" (ha ha ha). Although, later on I realized the real reason I was so interested in how to make music from car sounds is because of this video.
Seriously. Isn't that the coolest thing? I just love it.
Anyway, moving on. We had some good conversation material, almost the whole ride out (and it was about a forty minute drive, so that's pretty good for me), and right before we got there, he shouted "music store!" and then looked like he just had a near-death experience, because he didn't realize there was one so close to the theater, and he was just happy it was there. I was pretty grateful that I'm not the only one who does weird stuff like that (I don't actually shout it out, but if we drive past a comic book store, I forget what I'm talking about, and stare wistfully out the window until it's out of sight), and I was glad that maybe he's a bit weird, too.
The show we went to go see is Tommy (by the Who). The only song I knew from it was Pinball Wizard, so it was all new to me (but exactly as strange as I expected. This is what I saw, years and years ago:
And you can just imagine how alarming and confusing that could be to a neurotypical little girl, not to mention an autist, so of course, I remembered it. In fact, I remembered it being a lot more chaotic, with brighter colors and everything. I'm really proud of myself for remembering Elton John was randomly on stilts. I just remembered when we were watching it, I asked my mom why he was on stilts, and she honestly admitted she had no idea, that it was just a "thing they were doing.")
I was stimming like crazy throughout the entire show, and just glad that he wasn't one of those annoying people that try to have a conversation during a performance, partially because I was trying to figure out how to react if he noticed me doing it. But for the first act, I was surprised by the image that they painted, of Tommy, who, for most of the show, is deaf, dumb, and blind. He stands there, in the middle of the stage, his face blank, his body stock still, while people and things and colors all flurry around him. It was a powerful image, for me, and it really stuck with me. I know, I don't have anything on people who are really deaf and blind, and I certainly don't on people who are extremely autistic, but I still just kept saying "that was me as a kid: right there, that was me!" I did interact with people, a little, but most of my childhood was spent with an intangible barrier between me and everyone else. They probably thought I was strange, the quiet girl with nothing to say, the girl that didn't run and jump and play, content to sit in a corner with her book, or strangest of all, just stare off into space. Everyone was always so bright and loud and crazy, and I just wanted to be calm and peaceful. I think anyone with autism can relate to that.
Anyway, after the show, we were both pretty tired, so we skipped dinner and headed back home. Unfortunately, I had used up all of my "peppy Penny" juice on the ride up, plus watching a show as trippy as Tommy can be mentally exhausting anyway, so I ran out of stuff to say after the first five minutes of the ride back. Every once in a while, one of us would say something to get the conversation going again, but we eventually settled into silence as we listened to his Led Zeppelin CD. I actually felt really guilty, because every once in a while, I realized that I was still in the car, still sitting next to this guy, who I was still supposed to be entertaining with witty conversation, but I couldn't think of anything to say, so I settled comfortably back into my head, forgetting, once again, where I was, who I was with, and what I was supposed to be doing.
I could do this, because for the first time, I realized that I'm allowed to do that. Being oblivious to my surroundings is just something I do, and it's not a bad thing. I mean, sure, if I was in a dangerous situation, then yeah, I should probably pay attention, but otherwise, what I'm doing is actually NORMAL. Normal for me. And it's okay. It's the way I process things. I like to sit there silently, completely absorbed in my thoughts. I don't have to feel guilty about it anymore, and THAT is a glorious feeling, to not have to feel guilty for being who you are. I've talked about this before, but growing up is hard, having to train yourself to go against every instinct you have, to have this constant pressure to pay attention to everyone and everything all the time, and remember every little thing they do, and remember every mistake you've ever made so you don't do that again, until you don't even know who you are, simply that whatever that is, it's wrong, and you need to change it. Not every autistic person goes through this. Some of them are just confused and "quirky". But I am one of the few that can pass of as a neurotypical much of the time, because I made two (wrong) assumptions, straight from the beginning: A, everyone's brains are the same as mine, and B, therefore every thought, feeling or action I have or make which is not in line with the way other people behave, is wrong, and should be corrected.
At the end of the date, we pulled up to his house, I thanked him for inviting me to the show, and we chatted cheerfully for a few minutes, making vague plans for the future (he, my sister, and I like to jam together--or in other words, we covered a few songs in his basement one time, and have kept missing each other ever since) and then hugged and said goodnight.
It wasn't the best date I've ever had. Not the worst, either. The part that stuck out to me most was that this is the first time I've ever told myself just to be myself, as cheesy as that sounds. And, I honestly don't care if this turns into anything. I just care that I get to be autistic, and now if anyone has a problem with me, with my stimming or my thought processes or my ideas, then that's too bad for them. I have made (and still will make) a lot of allowances for other people, because I understand that they are different than me. I have done a lot of things that make me uncomfortable, because they are "normal" to everyone else, and therefore help them feel more at ease. So I think it's high time that I start making a few allowances for myself. Almost everyone I know knows that I'm in to some kind of art or another, whether it be music, writing, or drawing, and as an artist, I'm allowed to be "quirky". If they want to write me off as an artist, or and autist, I'm okay with that.
It's a heck of a lot better than being wrong all the time.
Penny
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