Is there an #autistic way of being friends?

four groups of four people, with one person in front
Friendship means different things to different people

I want to take a step back and reconsider something that comes up a lot in discussions about Autism / Aspergers – the concept of friendship. I’m not sure we’re thinking about this clearly. It could be that we’re applying neurotypical measures and values to the criteria for who’s a friend and what friendship constitutes. And I’m not sure it’s serving us. I think it may be causing a lot of us to think we’re lonelier (and more alone) than we really are.

I am beginning to suspect that Autism / Aspergers comes with its own unique brand of friendship. And that distinct “friendotype” is no less valid than the neurotypical type — it can be every bit as fulfilling, and it might just help to make the world a better place.

The sooner we stop measuring our friendships by neurotypical measures — and we quit feeling badly about who we are because we “don’t measure up” to non-autistic standards — the happier we’ll be.

At least that’s what I think.

Let me speak for myself. I suspect others will agree. Hear me out.

Let’s look at the dictionary to see how “friend” is defined:

a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations.

Most people would not say they “know” someone until they’ve spent a great deal of time with them, been through a number of good and bad experiences with them, and have “gotten to know” them. But most people aren’t autistic. Most people aren’t empathic. Most people aren’t so highly sensitive to others, that they can “pick up” on what’s going on with that other person in an instant.

As for the bond of mutual affection, most people (in the neurotypical model) spend a lot of time withholding their affection. They’re stuck in the idea that they’re separate and apart from everyone and everything around them. And crossing the chasm of interpersonal differences is a monumental effort for many. So, bonds of mutual affection don’t get created for quite some time, until certain criteria are met.

Exclusive of sexual or family relations — that’s actually easily dispatched with many autistic folks, as we don’t automatically interact with others in a sexual way. Unless we’re hypersexual autistics (it happens — I used to be that way, years ago)… then things get trickier. But nowadays, I have no more interest in having sex with random people I meet and connect with, than I have in having surgery. The two seem equally intricate and intimate to me, as well as potentially painful and … fraught.

So, on those three official criteria strike me as particularly neurotypical in nature. And they don’t allow for any autism (or empathy, for you non-autistic empaths in the audience) in the definition. Again, it’s a case of mob-rule assumptions about how people are, how they behave, and what “should” happen as a result.

Now, let’s talk about the “folk” definition of friendship. Friends are people whom you feel you can talk to about anything, who can — and will — step up and support you in your hour of need, thanks to the personal bond you have with them. They’ll come to your assistance, no matter what. And they’ll put up with your sh*t with long-suffering grace, because, well, they’re you’re friend.

And you’d do the same for them.

Here’s my issue with this model:

First, not everyone is completely unable to connect with others, except under select circumstances, after years of history with them.

Some of us can actually connect with others on a deep personal level, regardless of how well we know them or how long we’ve known them. It can happen very quickly. It does happen very quickly for many autistic folks. We can be highly empathic. We can sense our similarities and connections with others. We can co-experience others’ moods and state of mind/body/spirit. And we can establish a really close bond with those others almost instantly. (It’s a lot less wonderful than it sounds, by the way. It can be pretty confusing, frustrating and tiring.)

Because we can empathically connect with others, we actually meet the first official criterion for friendship — we know (yes, literally know) other people on a deeply personal level. And it can happen much, much more deeply than in neurotypical cases.

Second, we actually can have “a bond of mutual affection” with the people to whom we connect instantly.

Not only can we feel a bond with them, but they can feel a bond with us. We see them. We know them. We can co-experience their lives and widen our own in the process. And others may really respond to that sense of connection. People crave understanding. They crave feeling known and recognized. They hunger for the type of acceptance some of us can offer them, and they thirst for that sense of being “seen” as who they are. They get what they need from us, when we’re empathically connected with them. And that can form a close, almost uncanny bond that’s a welcome change from your standard-issue alienation that most folks marinate in, socially speaking.

For the record, this is not a “faux” connection. It’s real. It’s genuine. It’s unique. And for some of us on the spectrum, it can be a way of life. Everyday autistic life.

Of course, empathicness doesn’t necessarily pick and choose between fun people to connect with and the miserable people who cross our paths. So, we can end up inadvertently connecting with and forming a bond with toxic people we should run from — but who feel a deep connection with us, because we’re co-experiencing (and hence supposedly validating) their experience.

And then we come to the absence of family / sexual relations.

This may actually be the crux of why autistic friendship patterns can be so different from non-autistic friendotypes. It seems to me that non-autistic people are much more closely aligned with people who are related to them by blood, or who have had sex with them. In fact, it seems at times as though some allistic folks use blood ties and sexual relations as a way to build their social circle.

If you’re related, somehow that overrides countless other considerations (is someone an a**hole? are they a predator? a moocher? a problem?) Apparently, there’s some inborn obligation to put up with them, to interact with them, to keep them in your social circle… as long as you’ve got a blood connection with you. Likewise, if you have adopted siblings, others may treat them like they’re not really part of the family. Or if you’ve got a “step-parent”, according to some, they’re not really your parent. It seems arbitrary to me. And it’s based on something you cannot control, you haven’t chosen, something that fate’s pretty much foisted upon you. Maybe you get lucky, maybe you don’t. But according to non-autistic guidelines of who matters and who doesn’t, if you’re connected by blood/marriage, that counts for more than personality and/or what you bring to the dynamic.

And then you have “sexual relations” which are not just just having sex with someone, exchanging fluids, making babies, etc. It’s also about interacting with others in a sexualized way: flirting, innuendo, all those little hints and wink-wink-nudge-nudge vagaries that tend to frustrate and confound autistic folks. It seems sometimes like non-autistic people are constantly “on the make” — always looking for sexual partners, constantly talking about sex, joking and hinting and whatnot. It’s like they use sex as a shortcut to connect with other people… maybe because they can’t (or don’t want to) connect in other ways?

Am I onto something here? Autistic folks connect above the neck… Non-autistics connect below the waist…? Or am I just stereotyping and being unfair? There’s always that chance.

Or perhaps autistic ways of connecting are more… pervasive than non-autistics? We can definitely be more sensitive, more empathic, more connected to our surroundings, and that both facilitates and complicates the relationships we have with people around us… to the point where culturally driven, somewhat chance-driven designations like blood connections and who’s available for mating are eclipsed by the swirling flow of sensory input that override our attention for those social conventions.

Anyway, all this being said, I’m more convinced than ever that autistic folks have different friendship patterns which are not less effective or less desirable than non-autistic friendship patterns. They’re just different from the ways the majority of folks build and sustain friendships.

If we struggle with friendships, it’s not because we’re doing it wrong. It’s because we have different patterns, different priorities, and others can’t accommodate / match us. The problem — again, there’s the social model — is that the relationships we form can become one-sided, lopsided in who’s doing how much work, and who’s actually benefit. An autistic person being drawn to a non-autistic person can be put at some kind of risk if that non-autistic person is incapable of understanding or reciprocating in a decent, humane way. Worst of all, is when the non-autistic person takes advantage of the autistic person, and the autistic person never realizes, because they can’t imagine why someone would do such a thing.

In any case, I’m continuously revising my understandings of things, and friendship patterns are just my latest fascination du jour.

Tomorrow, it might be something else.

I’m sure it will.

But for now, just for today… this is my revised understanding of friendships, on the rebound from my somewhat dismal declarations yesterday.

It’s a process. I never stop questioning, never stop learning. So it goes.

10 thoughts on “Is there an #autistic way of being friends?

  1. What I find endlessly fascinating (and encouraging, too) is the connections you repeatedly make between autism and empathy — actual, for-real, psionic-type empathy (or so it seems to me), something beyond merely cognitive ‘I understand, through reasoning, how this other person must feel.’ (REASON doesn’t have a thing to do with it when you can neither see nor hear the other person, and then suddenly you’re “hit” by a wave of their emotions from the other side of the room… or the other side of the city… ) Even “garden-variety” empathy, which so many of “the experts” (and others) insist autistic people completely lack. (The argument seems to be ‘If you had any empathy, you’d stop being weird, because your weirdness makes some people uncomfortable.’ Yeah, but all the cool people LIKE my weirdness, so there!)

    Fun fact: Weaver has a tendency to blather too much whenever someone mentions the e-word. 🙂 (It’s mostly that “Ohmigod, someone else GETS it!” reaction.)

    Liked by 2 people

    1. VisualVox

      Yes, indeed. It is something beyond cognitive. And yeah, sometimes it is like being hit by a wave of emotion from somewhere at a distance. The last eight months have been empathically distressing and exhausting, with all the political stuff… which is coming from everywhere. The most confusing thing for me, sometimes, is when people are clearly feeling something, but they don’t seem to be aware of it, or they are trying to hide it. Being true to situations like that is difficult, to say the least.

      I think there is a lot of confusion about the concept of empathy. A lot of non-empathic people run around calling themselves “empathic”, when they’re really empathetic. Different thing. As I conceptualize things, empathic-ness (versus garden-variety empathy) is all about co-experiencing phenomena with others — at times, overwhelmingly. Whereas, empathy is used in many different circumstances, and it can mean a lot of different things.

      I think the crux of the issue is that non-empathic people are making up rules about something they don’t understand. And they don’t realize that they don’t understand it, so we end up with a lot of confusing and contradictory and “half-baked” theories… which unfortunately become canon.


      On the bright side, Weaver, yeah, somebody else does get it. And I know the feeling of how exciting it can be to realize you’re not the only one. I’m empathic that way 😉

      Liked by 1 person

    2. VisualVox

      By any chance, are you of Mennonite / Pennsylvania extraction? Was Weaver your mother’s maiden name, by any chance? You’re referring to yourself by your assumed last name, which I’ve only ever encountered among Mennonites / PA folk. Looks awfully familiar…


      1. Actually, Weaver is my middle name. (My full name is Thomas Weaver Spence. I just dropped my surname to create my “pen name” years ago, so no one could accuse me of embarrassing my relatives — most of whom prefer to deny my existence anyway — by being a sci-fi writer…) I don’t know where I picked up the habit of occasionally referring to myself in third person, but I only do it online, not in (rare) in-person conversations.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. VisualVox

        I see. Yeah, I saw that Weaver is your middle name. It’s customary in PA Dutch circles to give a child their mother’s maiden name as their middle name. I had a lot of female classmates who had middle names that were actually last names. And I grew up around a lot of Weavers, so I thought maybe there was something there… Also, everyone I grew up with referred to each other by their last (or middle) names. Ferinstance, one of my classmates was “Yatesy” because her mother’s maiden name was Yates, and “Yatesy” just sorta rolls off the tongue, you know…? 😉

        As a sci-fi writer, I can understand your, uh, marginalized status 😉 Can be freeing, tho’.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. All my life I’ve heard I’m an intense (that’s the nicest word, too much and other variants thereof have been much more common) sort of person. I connect and become almost obsessive with people more quickly than most, which isn’t without it’s own set of drawbacks. It often means I become invested very quickly in others and they’re not equally invested in me because they’re wired differently. So they (often) get freaked out by my level of intimacy, they pull back and I’m left with another failed attempt at connecting. It’s frustrating and confusing at the same time.

    Many new things to ponder and think about. I think you’re onto something.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. VisualVox

      That sounds familiar to me. I think in my case, autistic sensitivity on hyperdrive extends all across the board, especially interpersonal things. I suspect it has to do with a lot of experiences with being threatened or in danger (that I realized too late, or very late in the “threat process”), which made me even more attentive to the “vibe” others were giving off. I think in my case it’s been adaptive, as much as it is an innate impulse. Nature and nurture feed into each other and heighten… well… everything.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. You might well be right that Autism/Asperger’s comes with its own brand of friendship. You might well be right with everything you say. It was interesting to read, but for me, personally, it’s different. I don’t really have any close friends. I have friends I occasionally like to spend time with, and who would help me out in an emergency. That I can be sure of. But no way can I tell them everything. I don’t have that sort of friend beyond my closest family – my parents and my sister are probably my best friends in the world. I don’t get that empathic connection you speak of either. I think when it comes to empathy I have a very spiky profile! I don’t feel I’m missing anything, though, and I never feel lonely.
    As for you stereotyping and being unfair? Erm…yes, I think you are a little. This sounds like the asexual elitism which the folks over at the Asexuality Visibility and Education Network warn about (sort of “how can sexuals ever have a clear thought if all they’ve got on the brain is sex”). I think there is a kind of Aspie elitism as well. Please, be assured that I’m not accusing you of any of those, I’m exaggerating to make a point 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. VisualVox

      Yeah, we’re all different, that’s for sure. People who aren’t empathic in the ways I am, aren’t going to relate. And yeah, I was being stereotypical. Sometimes I have to say things out loud in order (or in writing) to find out what’s really going on there. I’m actually quite happy by myself, and while I do connect with people on an… um… universal (?) level, personal connections are few and far between. Mostly because they Just Take So Much Effort And Energy. I get tired, just thinking about it. Online and at a distance is actually easier for me.

      Liked by 2 people

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