Autistic Euphoria and the Guy Next Door: Part Five

 

Even though I was on edge about how to talk about (Or not talk about? Who can say?) Girlfriend Next Door, the second Art Night went even further into the magical realm of Autistic Euphoria. It's not too different from the joy of meeting someone the ropes really like! It felt so profoundly liberating to have someone to play with! He bought over his music (some complicated situation with a private server) and we played songs back and forth.

If I'm playing songs back and forth, my heart is 100% in the mix. I try to tell myself it's no big deal, but that's a lie.

I was hypervigilant for Signs He Might Like Me Back. He talked a little about Girlfriend Next Door and it didn't sound like they were that serious of a thing, but he was definitely not as touchy-feely as he'd been the previous visit. A couple of times I touched his arm for emphasis and he looked apprehensive. I can read signals from time to time, and it's concerning to me that sometimes I just want to ignore or counteract them. Maybe everybody feels like that sometimes but it makes me wonder if I'm a predator. I don't think so, but I could do better.

No polite "thanks for having me" text this time. He'd offered to watch the cats for an upcoming trip, but he didn't write back or acknowledge when I sent him the trip dates. So my brain did what it does for inscrutable texting rhythms--made it about me. Was he Backing Off or just busy.

Why, at any point, didn't I just tell him what I was feeling or ask him anything about what he wanted this connection to be? Things I could have asked if I was being true to myself at any point during our sadly abbreviated friendship:

After the first hangout: "Hey I felt a spark last night, what do you think? Any potential there?"

At any point: "Am I texting you too much or do we just have different rhythms?"

After I found out about GFNS: "Are you two poly or exclusive?"

I have these skills! I've been poly or poly-adjacent for nearly my whole adult life! But, when The Guy Next Door first came onto my radar back in August, my OCD therapist suggested I wait and let him say something if he liked me in a romantic way. This had a certain logic to it, especially since we live so close together.

So, as if the work of this blog had never existed, I'd accepted the don't-tell-him challenge. And it brought me so much pain. Probably caused him some pain too.

(OCD Versus) Autistic Euphoria and The Guy Next Door: Part Three

Meanwhile

 After our first Art Night, The Guy Next Door texted a gentlemanly note thanking me for the evening, just like someone would do after a promising first date. Or a lovely first friend hangout! I should have just asked.

It didn't take long for OCD/trauma to take over for the euphoria feeling. I didn't WANT to devote so much of my consciousness of whether he was texting me at any given moment, but that's the illness. That 15-to-20-percent of my brain could have been used for lesson planning, for learning my knots, or literally anything else, but my brain remained fixed on the little green messages square, hoping a red number would appear. If I could have one aspect of my gorgeous neurodivergence just zapped right out, I would.

We talked in the yard sometimes, so I tried to gauge how much he would want to talk and how much he wanted to be left alone. I tried to do the insane math of how much he would want me to be out in my own yard. I'm doing a thing lately where I weed 10 minutes a day (Trying to avoid the dreaded weedwhacker!) so that kept me from hiding in my apartment and avoiding the yard entirely.

At one point, I sat in one of my Adirondack chairs to read and it broken underneath me. I have no idea if he saw, but in my head, I might as well have been onstage.

Both our sets of front windows are so big! But I felt exposed even with the blackout curtains drawn, even in the privacy of my own bed. It was hard to ever feel truly alone. I felt his presence when he was home and I missed it when he was out. I got entrained to his rhythms. I still am.

No more texts came for a few days. He missed saying happy birthday, even though I'd mentioned the date like a million times. Signals! The day after my birthday, when I was feeling satisfied but spent from my birthday adventures, news arrived.

"So it turns out that (Girlfriend Next Door) and I got back together, lol. She'll be housesitting for me this week. I hope you'll get to do some chatting, she's a delightful human being."

Things just change so fast. Sometimes I can't keep up, and this really felt like the rug being pulled out from under me.

He'd mentioned being poly, and this seemed like some poly bullshit, all of a sudden being expected to bond with her because he liked her. Or! Just some friendly neighbor stuff. I did meet her and we DID kinda bond, over his love of making hot drinks in overly complicated ways. She's curvy, chatty, femme brunette, it's possible he had a type. Or it's possible he just needed a stopgap until she came back to him. Or! Courtesy of Occam's Razor--friendship!

I didn't know what he wanted me to do or want or be, but I knew one thing--I didn't want to get tangled up with these two.

So I told him I needed to pause art nights for a bit, hunkered down to be sad about this mismatch. I truly wish I'd left it there.

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.

Aw, A Breakoff :..(

             

So I know I'm leaving out the middle of the story here, but the nice thing I had going with The Professor ended this morning. Similar to the Mr. Makeout Music situation, he wasn't as available as he thought he was and we had disproportionate levels of excitement about each other--my enthusiasm will always probably set a high bar, for better and worse.

              I may write more about it later on, but for now, I want to remember two things:

1. Phone dates feel like real dates and to me, sexting counts as real sex.

2. The night of the Cuddle Party, I had a piece of advice from one of the presenters written on my hand. It said:

"Believe your own perceptions more than what he's telling you."

I think this is the first time I've ever pulled that off. I'm proud today of being honest with myself about what I want and letting him be honest about what he can give. Rainbow star of sad achievement:

Post-Veto Mini-Update and In Defense of Pausing Friendships

So even though I think I was a jealous brat in my conversation with the Cutest Boy on Saturday, he disagrees and agreed to my suggestion that we start the friendship over after some space and time. We've both apologized about a hundred times, so it's safe to say we still care and want the other to be happy.

I've often been accused (never by the people directly involved) of being too controlling with this way I have of pausing friendships that have gotten freighted with unrequited stuff. It's usually very nice poly people telling me that it's saying I only want to be around the person if they give me what they want, but that's not it at all, in fact, it's the opposite.

The fact is, unrequited (or disallowed-from-being requited, it amounts to the same) feelings suck the fun out of things and put a burden on both (or all) parties involved. By giving them (and myself) space, I'm saying (or have always meant to say) that I have enough faith in the connection between us to leave it alone until it becomes unfraught. I'm saying that what they really want is more important to me than whatever I've been wishing for, because none of this is any good without authenticity.

It seems to work, and I hope it does this time, too.