MILFL Series 4: It Might Be Aspergers

Last week I posted about cockblocking yourself from connection. I think it's a real thing. I think it's universal, and I think it can happen with any number of nuanced variations on the theme of not believing you're worthy of that connection. Whether we're sabotaging a good thing because we don't think we deserve it or compromising our identity by being who we think others want us to be, we suck at connecting with others because we are stuck in this paralyzing fear of being truly and deeply seen. That kind of vulnerability opens us up to the risk of being deeply hurt. Again. Because we're all damaged—come on guys, we wouldn't inflict these toxic relating patterns on other people for the fun of it (unless you're a sociopath. Then you probably wouldn't be reading this blog that's always about feelings and shit). They're risk-management strategies.

Except they end up being like risk-avoidance strategies. And they really do preclude us from having the experiences of love and belonging that drive our lives and make it worth it.

Last weekend I was invited to drinks by a dude I'd met once before while out with friends—interestingly enough, the night I had decided going home was better than going big, which you can read about here. I cross-checked with our mutual facebook friend to see if there were any obviously sociopathic red flags about him. My moderately reliable source couldn't name any, so we met up at a bar near the university campus. When he showed up in a button down shirt, I thought "Oh fuck. He thinks this is a date."

We had a good hour's worth of predicable conversation, from get-to-know you chat and friendly banter to who do we both know in our town and the occasional comment on the local political climate's woes. Socially, nothing was out of the ordinary.

Now, this is a guy who does stand-up comedy on the side. If you haven't had the pleasure of socially interacting much with comedians, you may not know (but could probably guess) that to most of them, everyone's an audience. So, not unexpectedly, this guy starts half telling me about, half performing some of the "bits he's working on."

And one of them happens to be about the time in his life when he shat in boxes in his back yard.

Um. Yes. I heard all the gruesome details, beginning with the water in his apartment getting shut off after he didn't pay the bill. Then came his brilliant idea to put kitty litter in his toilet after he took the-dump-that-wouldn't-flush. I also got to hear how he cut out the straps of the bottom of a lawn chair to fashion a rudimentary commode he utilized in his backyard. Which was fence-less.

Our drinks out ended soon after he told me that story, but not before he asked me to feel a lump on his back; he said he often pondered whether it was tumorous. I asked him if he had Asperger's. I told him it's okay if he did, I'd be cool with that. He said, "What's that? I don't think so." I explained it's where people get real awkward in social situations, and how sometimes people with Asperger's say inappropriate things. He said he didn't have it.

It's true that you never know how much comedic material is exaggerated for effect, and to his credit, he texted me a few days later and apologized for not being on his best game. Still, I can't but be struck by how effectively this guy cockblocked himself within 90 minutes. The really interesting thing is, he disclosed to me that it's essentially a huge part of his performance strategy too. He goes up and makes several horrifically offensive jokes in the first few minutes, the audience assumes he's an asshole, and then he works the rest of his material in character, as an asshole. He says it works for him, to manage on-stage jitters.

Offstage, however, I didn't see how it was working for him. Not that he was an asshole, per se, but all that poo talk did me in for any chance of a second social engagement. Which I politely texted him upon receipt of a string of messages from him over the course of the following week, in the last of which he demanded an answer to whether I'd give it another go.

And because I was quite proud of myself for (what I figured to be) a civil and benignly honest answer to his request to hang out again, I did not anticipate the force of the vulnerability hangover with which he came at me a few days later. With a drunken late-night voice mail and a barrage of facebook messages (followed by a de-friending) he denounced me as immature and stupid, as well as a coward for not telling him to his face why I wasn't interested in seeing him again (as if his shitting in boxes in his backyard and then telling me about it wasn't an acceptable reason) after loudly affirming his own awesomeness, special person-hood, and value as a potential person in my life.

I was honestly surprised by the violence of his reaction; it indicated that maybe he had on some level, made himself vulnerable to me, at least insofar as his ability to do so. And so when I said "Thanks, but no thanks," something snapped. I'm guessing that on some level the experience was excruciating for him (nobody enjoys rejection), and that he took my kibosh on future hangouts deeply personally; somehow maybe he let part of his sense of self-worth get wound up around my interest in him. Or maybe it's that he sincerely believes he's 100% deserving of acceptance, and anyone who fails to embrace his box shitting doesn't meet his standards.

Or maybe he has Asperger's. I'm not sure.*
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But failed dating exploits and other people's vulnerability and rejection issues are not the point of this blog series. The point is to figure out how I can tack the L onto being a MILF for myself. And as entertaining as it may be to occasionally dissect other people's emotional problems, blogging about them doesn't make me loveable.

Okay, so we're back to square 1: What does make someone loveable? In this most recent anecdote, I really was sincerely proud of myself for the way I had manage to resolve this dude's asking me to go out again. I thought I had been polite and direct, which was a huge improvement for me. Because throughout my life, I've sucked at rejecting people. I would either vanish entirely, with the person interested in me throwing voicemails or emails into a black hole from which nothing ever returned, or I would just not reject them altogether. I've always felt terrible guilt around rejecting others, especially guys who were into me. To the point where I would compromise my own feelings in the situation trying to protect theirs. It probably explains a lot about my past relationship patterns, and why I've said "yes" to a whole bunch of shit that I didn't really want. And though I've realized that that's not being kind to myself at all, saying "yes" when you mean "no" is a hundred times shittier for other party, because when you're finally honest that you're not acting with integrity and doing what you want for your life, you have to bail out. And what you bailed out on was something that someone else really did want. (Again, I'm so sorry).

So again we're back to the L-ability being linked with having the courage to live from your whole heart, just like my Ted Talk adopted sensei says. And I wager that for that kind of courage to blossom, you got to have a whole lot of faith in yourself, and again, believe you're worth treating yourself right.

*Impairment in social interaction is only one indicator of Asperger's Syndrome. For more information on Asperger's or the autism spectrum, I recommend this site for an introductory look from a parent's perspective.
Toilet image from inspectapedia.com
Post edited by SELF.