Autistic Euphoria and The Guy Next Door: Part Four

 

I was so busy bouncing, listening, interrupting, and picking out songs that I didn't realize he'd drawn Happy Eraserhead Baby! A moment of pure garmanbozialessness,

So after I found out about Girlfriend Next Door, I told The Guy Next Door there wouldn't be any Art Nights for a little while, but that I was happy to be friendly neighbs and wouldn't rule out hangouts in the future. I started Operation Mind My Business. I was genuinely friendly and welcoming to Girlfriend Next Door when she was housesitting, and there seemed a chance that all the crushiness might be over, that my ever-elusive dignity might stand a chance.

(Wait is the idea of dignity kind of a pain in the butt? I think maybe it is!)

But by the time he was on his way back from his trip, I just missed him. So I texted, "It's lonely here without anyone making me tea." and reinstated art night.

(Later on, a Codependents Anonymous friend would identify this choice as "abandoning myself." Maybe it was but I can't quite regret it all the way.)

Three Thursdays ago was our last Art Night. There were only two between us, not sure why my brain made it into such a ritual that it might as well be an institution! Except! Oh yeah, OCD, autism, and an acute case of twitterpatedness! I worked so hard getting the apartment ready! I agonized so hard about what to wear! Strangely, I don't remember what I did end up wearing! So weird! So rare!