Autistic Euphoria and The Guy Next Door, Part One

 Around the time I was processing the Summer of Trauma and writing my Summer Princess posts, my next-door neighbor and I started talking. I'd noticed he was cute when he moved in back in spring, but I'd said hello to him and his pretty girlfriend as they were walking down our shared driveway in dating finery, looking so beautifully Love on the Spectrum. (I don't know if that was me clocking them or just seeing what I wanted to see.) and I was all obsessed with Summer Princess, so I hadn't given his cuteness much thought.

(Holy moly! I just stopped typing to see if Autistic Euphoria is a thing other people noticed! And! This Psychology Today Article! )

The Guy Next Door uncannily resembles the guy I'd have imagined for myself in my 20s and 30s--a sweet-faced and vaguely hippie-ish white guy with longish curly hair and a beard. He's all-but-dissertation at an Ivy. He looks exactly like he has the taste in music that he has--dreamy indie rock. The perfect Death Cab for Cutie cutie of my dreams. I told him I could have written him, which doesn't sound like a compliment, but is. This story ends with us high and me swoony, sitting at my painting table listening to The National.

Anyway, I was in the one-chance-out-between-two-worlds state between summer and fall, trauma work and quiet healing, when he stepped out his door and handed me a clear mug of bright red hibiscus tea. We chatted for a while, and then he bought out another tea for Other Side Neighbor. The three of us stood around talking, looking for all the world like people who'd figured out how to gently share our lives with others.

There was something so attentive about him, something that made me feel profoundly seen. I felt giddily like I didn't have to mask around this person!!! I let my weird self out a little more, even letting out my David Lynch impression, which I usually only do in front of BFF-Formerly Sweetie and the cats.

WHAT A GREAT TIME TO BE ALIVE IF YOU LOVE THE THEATER OF THE ABSURD!

The next time he came out the door with tea (I cannot emphasize enough how close his door is to mine!) it was just for me. I'd mentioned that I thought the hibiscus tea would make good iced tea, so he brought it chilled this time. Same clear mug, same brilliant red color, but he'd made it this way just for me.

Some people just have such a delightful way of inspiring oversharing! Between regular what-we'd-like-to-do-with-the-yard talk, we shared about our respective mental health stuff and our different twelve-step adventures. (Alcohol for him, codependency for me.) 

I mentioned that the guys in my apps seemed to be a little unhinged lately, maybe due to "cuffing season." He let me know he and Girlfriend Next Door had broken up but he wasn't on the apps. I maaaayyyyy have let slip that he didn't have to look further than my door. Instant karma from those app guys I was complaining about--I out-un-hinged them for sure.

"Aw!" he said to that. Maybe it was an "aw" like "Aw, that's sweet" or like "Aw, it's kind of sad that you said something so open and strange."

The hardest thing about getting obsessed with a person is the way I'll avidly look for Signs and Wonders from them, the littlest things that might mean they like me, but also turn the most blinkered eye to any and all red flags on both sides.

Other Side Neighbor helped facilitate the exchange of numbers and, from my now perspective, my fate was sealed. My new OCD and Mindfulness Workbook says I should tell myself "Magic is silly" in response to ideas like fate, but I can't quite get there--in matters of the heart, magic happens all the time.

Trauma Work Summer Was Actually Kinda Lovely, Part Four

I couldn't get her to come make art very often, but she sat by me the morning we did August Valentines! This is one of mine though.    

Today Update: As soon as I extricated myself from the impossible situation I helped create, the warmth of just a few weeks ago came back to me. 

*****

For the past couple summers, I've worked in a summer camp across town. It almost always felt like a paradise, the kids running to-and-fro making up weird games while my friends and I overshared out of earshot. Some mornings,  I sat outside with my ice coffee and my emotional support Squishmallow and just enjoyed the trees. We made art almost constantly and Karaoke day was practically a religious experience. 

The campers' emotions were always in flux, big to small, melting down to happily flying a literal kite. My emotions moved with theirs sometimes, and the quick shifts could get overwhelming.

On the bench at the side of the playground is where I got to know Summer Princess. Tall, dark-skinned and soft-cheeked, she was instantly endearing to me. She was new but jumped into the camp tradition of the overshare right away. For me, it was probably love at first overshare. A thunderclap of a bond, but playful. Easy most of the time.

I liked the very quick moment when we showed off the lacy tops of our bras to each other. She was kind to my spectrumness, listened patiently to the story of how I became a collector of lingerie and how I need bras with more structure these days because of gravity.

We talked about relationships, of course--pretty sure I'm the one that started down that road. I loved hearing about her adorable fiancee and their poly misadventures. Within three days of working together, Summer Princess was inviting me to their wedding.

Pretty soon, we were hugging hello, goodbye, and as needed. 

"You're soft," she said one of the first times we hugged.

Once I said "Wait I think I already told you this story." and she said

"Tell me again." *dies of swooning*

When I complained about guys, she said "You should try a princess instead."

Once I was sitting on the employees couch near the end of a long day and she brought me a chair so I could put up my feet. I didn't ask her to, she just did!

Once, she offered to carry one of my bags to the car even though none of my bags were heavy. I think she just wanted to be with me a little longer, like I was an emotional support human. "Goodbye loves," said a coworker from across the street.

We spent part of one afternoon trying to sneak my Squishmallow over to each other undetected, my heart got all unlatched from all the silliness and giggles.

The day before she turned 26, I had the kids all make her cards and little crafty gifts. One girl made her a 3-D present box just out of regular paper and tape! Craft supplies were never limited to their intended use!

Oh my goodness, I loved this girl so much, and it was hard to keep my imagination from dreaming up lots of knotty Ma'am scenarios for her. I wanted to take care of her, to take her to the beach, to give her whatever she ever wanted.

Now, today, she's probably wigged out by me and her fiancee definitely has threatened to hunt me down. So I'm surprised to find so much warmth, joy, affection, and innocence in these paragraphs. I'm glowing with it, even though she's gone.