SOUNDS UNUSUAL, BUT OKAY. (A FICTIONAL STORY OF WHAT IT CAN BE LIKE TO BE AUTISTIC AND IN A RELATIONSHIP)

Peter Wynn
Aug 31, 2018 · 3 min read

At a first visit to the house, you could have thought they were nothing more than housemates, and housemates who lived by the strictest separatism. It was a three bedroom house, the master bedroom of which had an ensuite, yet all three rooms had beds in them. At first inspection, you could have suspected they were siblings keeping a shrine to their parents. The kitchen had two fridges, both filled with food and drink. One had iced tea, the other some soft drink. One had meat and vegetables, the other had chicken and bacon and some bread. The pantry was almost alphabetically organised.

Visiting the first bedroom, one found a single bed with a blue quilt cover that was suggestive of being a Star Wars fan. It had a desk with a computer and a television mounted on a small table in the far corner. It had a built in wardrobe, filled with t-shirts, flannelette shirts and jeans. The windows were draped with dark curtains.

Visiting the second bedroom, there was a dressing table with a large mirror at the back. There was a shorter single bed in the centre, covered with a green quilt. The wardrobe was closed. In one corner there was a computer desk, and in another, a floor lamp. The window was shaded by sun-blocking curtains.

What was the purpose of the master bedroom? It was furnished with nothing but a bed and two bedside tables and a chair facing at right angles to the bed. What could have been described as a lounge room contained little to suggest it was communal in any way. And the dining room contained a table with four chairs.

It was soon that the male of the couple, a tall, thinnish person with his long hair tied back in a pony tail, wearing a soft, printed t-shirt under an open checked flannelette shirt and blue jeans explained it. "This is our special room." The female of the couple, a shorter and slimmer woman approached and with a dreamy smile, said, "We come in here every Tuesday at two o'clock and every Saturday at four." Ah, okay, I thought. I knew exactly what was meant.

As an autistic person myself, I have been in a relationship with a neuro-typical and I can say that in my case it was unsuccessful. I had a partner who was very needy (i.e. wanting to be kissed when we pulled up at the petrol station and I was going to get out of the car to buy petrol). One night when I wanted to go around to the local Woolworths (I tend to prefer to go later at night, as it's quieter, and I'm more of a night owl as I don't like being in the sunlight and would prefer to take Vitamin D tablets) my mother said, "Have you got a girlfriend around there and I replied, "No, and if I wanted a girlfriend, she would have to be autistic." "Gee, you're fussy. She'd have to be autistic." I have tried countless times to explain to my mother that a neuro-typical woman would not be a good choice for me, but she doesn't want to understand it.

As a kid, whenever I heard people talking about pillow time, I would often say to my mother, "What do they mean, three times a week? They've got two kids, so they should have only done it twice in their lifetime." "You have a lot to learn." "Well, isn't that what people do it for? To have kids?" "Not only." "Well, for what other reason?" "Pleasure." "What the…???"

As an autistic adult, I hate spontaneity and if I had a partner who wanted pillow time, my response would be, "Well, only on certain nights, or at certain times." My usual way would have been, before 2010, if a partner had wanted pillow time, "It's Saturday night. Come to bed." "No, it's 8:15, The Bill will be on in fifteen minutes, and then, Parkinson will be on." (I didn't have a partner at this time, mind you.) Then, on Sunday, "Come to bed." "No, this programme will be on." Any pillow time would have to have been based around that on the basis of, "Wednesday afternoon at two o'clock," for example, and to have some anticipation of that. We can also prefer our own space and not necessarily be good bed companions (I know, I am restless if I am in a bed with someone).

Peter Wynn

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Diagnosed with autism at 35. Explained a lifetime of difference.