Big Brother again

Apologies for my non-UK readers, and the 99% of UK readers who don't watch Big Brother :)

There are two people who are interesting me this year. Well, three. I am finding Faye interesting as she is quite emotional and seems rather sensitive, but what interests me about her is that when someone does something she doesn't like, or says something that upsets her, she will spend a few minutes on her own and then go and talk to that person to explain what they said/did and how it upset/offended her. I'm the exact opposite; I'm a brooder. I wonder if things would be better and easier if that is how I behaved. I sometimes think that when someone does something to upset me I should say, but every time it does happen, all those thoughts go out the window and I retreat into myself and the shutters come down.

The flip side is that other people seem to be reacting badly to her and think she is too emotional. So is this a better way to behave, or not? Or is there a happy medium?

Aaron is also interesting. I see a lot of myself in him; we both seem to take things very personally and are "sensitive" and easily offended on very deep levels. Like me, he is also a brooder rather than a talker. Again this behaviour is also starting to annoy various other people, mainly with his withdrawn nature.

As well as being deeply offended maybe more easily than I should be, I also see myself as being the only one ever hurt in a situation, and that other people are indifferent and not feeling the hurt that I am. And that seems to deepen my despair. Further I find myself more likely to withdraw from a situation or circle in order to remove myself from the hurting presence, yet the other party never seems to feel the need. Again this piles more onto my misery as I feel that I have to suffer and stop doing things or going places whereas others just don't seem to care. I don't know if they do care and are also hurting but are better at hiding it, or not being affected by it, or if I'm just always being "too sensitive".

Regardless, it seems I always end up the "loser" in any given situation, the one who always has to adjust and suffer, and I see that in Aaron too.

The third thing to interest me is something that I've always suspected, but it is nice to see it played out in flesh and blood. No matter how big a dick you are, as long as you're attractive women will forgive you anything.

The Joy of Nothing

One thing that the analysis of my life has revealed is that I get pleasure from nothing. I simply exist. My life goes on from day to day. Today at work was a big company meeting that everyone laughed their way through and I sat there stony-faced. After work everyone hurried down to the pub, and I went and stood there stony-faced, on the peripheral. People must enjoy this stuff. They must get pleasure from the basic interaction they have with other people. It certainly can't be the conversation as that is functional and bland. Boring.

I can watch a mediocre show on Television and stay the distance, why can't I stand mediocre social gatherings? I guess it is because it is a constant slap in the face for me. A constant reminder of the normality that I will never know. The joys people get in such simple things that will forever elude me, making my life ultimately meaningless.

I stay for one drink (a "social" one...ha!) then head home. I stop by the alcohol shop on the way back because, truth be known, I don't even enjoy my own company. I hate being with other people and I hate being on my own, so drunken oblivion is my only realistic option.

Passive aggressive

Two people were talking about me like I wasn't there.

"AS4L isn't very open, he's quite protective."
"I disagree, he's likely to get into trouble as he often just tells it how it is."

I guess they’re both right...I don't speak much but when I do you'd better listen :)

You will not fix me

The problem with non-visible disabilities like Asperger's Syndrome is that people seem disposed to forgetting about them, and dare I say even deny them. If I had no legs and I got into a relationship with someone they wouldn't think to themselves "Sure he has no legs now, and needs a wheelchair, but after going out with me for a few months he'll grow those legs back." "Sure he's blind now, but once he meets my friends he'll be seeing in no time."

Because no-one can see your disability they soon forget all about it, maybe even think it's an act, but the overall and lasting impression seems to be that you're just shy and just need to come out of your shell. That being dragged here and there and thrown into deep-ends will have you waving and not drowning. As the months drag on they begin to realise that it's not an act, that you'll never change, that this really is just how you are.

Social Reciprocation

There is an aspect of Asperger's Syndrome (AS) around social reciprocation, and it is said that people with AS are less likely to share or to point out things of interest. I had quite a good example of this happen to me today. I had to walk into town at lunch as I had to buy a birthday card, and on the way to the card shop I witnessed quite an unusual and fairly serious accident. People from all over were rushing to help...people that were on the street anyway, people came out of nearby shops to help. Myself...I had a birthday card to buy and things seemed to be in hand so I just walked on. While inside the card store I heard ambulance sirens, and leaving the shop the press were in attendance also.

About half an hour after lunch ended I was back at work and someone sent around an e-mail saying there had been an accident in town. This person hadn't witnessed it but they were on the scene a short while after and had taken pictures, called an ambulance etc. Pictures were attached along with a description of the events. For a good 10 minutes after the e-mail went around the accident was quite the buzz of the office.

I had actually witnessed the accident and didn't even think to tell the people I sit next to, never mind construct an e-mail (with pictures) and send it around the whole office. The worst thing about it...I had a killer joke regarding an observation around the circumstances of the accident and I thought long and hard about replying to the global mail with my joke but in the end, what with the concern people were showing, I decided against it and I think that was the right decision.

I suppose it's one of the reasons we're so bad at conversations and small talk; we never really have anything we think is worth talking about whereas NTs seem to find all manner of minute absolutely enthralling.

Comedy Observations

I'm a big fan of comedy and I enjoy watching stand-up on TV and also going to live comedy gigs. One of the things I like about TV comedy are the crowd shots. They always try and intersperse the comedy with shots of the audience and they try very hard to pick their subjects. The people who get the close-ups have to be attractive and also visibly enjoying themselves...that's not who I'm looking at though...I'm scanning the background audience. No matter how much a knot of people are enjoying themselves there is always one person no more than 4 seats away who is sat there stony-faced, arms folded, thinking "this isn't funny in the slightest."

The main thing I've noticed though, is that when people are laughing they almost always look toward their partner. There doesn't seem to be a hard and fast gender divide; sometimes the man looks toward the woman, sometimes the woman to the man. I'm not completely sure why this is. I think it is part of NT behaviour to share experience and ensure your companions are also enjoying themselves. Maybe the glance is in case the couple want to add any in-jokes of their own to the proceedings. When I go to see comedy and I find something funny I just laugh...I have never had the desire to look toward anyone I happen to be with.

Secret house against the world

There is an aspect of my Asperger's Syndrome (AS) that I still haven't come to terms with, or decided on how to handle. At work today there was a presentation at the end of the day at the local pub and when it was done everyone hung around and within moments the whole place was just like any other weekend view...everyone was chatting or waiting at the bar and smiling and mingling. There is a yearning in me to fit in, an aching almost. These opportunities don't come along often and I always tell myself to grasp them when they do. Here it was...and there was I...on the outside, not really knowing what to do with myself. Not really knowing how to inject myself anywhere, not knowing how to act or what to say. Not really wanting to either. As the chatting rose to white noise I did what I always do; I left to come home and be on my own.

I feel this constant jealousy and I'm not sure why. I don't enjoy socialising so why am I jealous? I don't really like talking to people so why do I care? It's like I'm a small child who only wants a certain toy because someone else is playing with it. I don't think it's the socialising I'm jealous of, I think I'm just grieving for normality. I see people be happy, I see people enjoy themselves and I think that's what I actually want. I don't really care what it is that they are doing that makes them happy, I just want to be happy too and this is how others seem to do it. Their lives all seem so full. My life is filled like darkness fills a room, like silence fills a forest.

I also know this girl I asked out is going to end up going out with someone else from work. They'll meet the way normal people meet, while socialising outside of work where hair is down and happiness high. That will just be another constant reminder of my failures.

This inability to handle group social situations is the last thread I'm hanging onto. I still keep trying it and I still keep failing. I don't know if one day I'll just officially give up and stop trying, I mean I might as well. But something inside me doesn't want to. It's almost like trying this is the last thing I have and turning my back on it means having turned my back on everything. There will be nothing left and I will have officially given up on life. Thrown in the towel. Admitted defeat.

Coming home today I resolved to not even attend this year's work Christmas Party... like the end is drawing near already. I know I still have some fight left, so I'm going to try and go to the Christmas Party and just hope it isn't the final nail in the coffin. I also mulled over my decision about not telling anyone about my AS. Sometimes I want to...but then I ask myself what good it will do and the answer is "probably none". I ask myself how I'll ever know unless I try? Ultimately though it always, always comes back to the same thing...information is one way - once you've told someone something you can't ever take that back. If I was to "come out" at work and there were downsides then I'm stuck with those downsides. It's just too important, this secret is something I can't afford to gamble with. Something people can just never know. I'll just continue to carry its crushing weight.

Call me Mr Somebody

Months of pretentious work finally came of use at the weekend, culminating also in the vindication of an earlier post. I was eating out with an ex-colleague who had brought along a friend who is a painter/poet and is currently writing a book. The subject of books in general came up and as I've spent most of the year reading the classics I had them all covered. I was able to give opinions and analysis and bring other books into the discussion. Granted I probably sounded far better-read than I am, and I was obviously only relating other books that I'd also read, but I still pulled it off. This was exactly the situation I've been training for...when anyone literate discusses books I want to have read them, I want to have opinions and be knowledgeable. The ex-colleague drove the artist home and the feedback he received was that the artist found me "interesting" :) The ex-colleague also confessed that he was surprised at my spontaneous and thorough literary knowledge.

Pinocchio

Sometimes the best place to start is the beginning. There's a girl at my work that I kind of like and I think she might like me, it's hard to tell. I deal with her through my job occasionally but not a whole lot. There is someone else at work that I used to work with in a previous job and he is sometimes my port in the storm and we play pool together a fair bit. Pool's a great activity as it fills the time but you can spend most of it in silence as the activity fills the space, and you just talk a little here and there. In one of these spaces between shots I confessed to him the situation I found myself in. "Oh she definitely likes you" he said. He would though, that's his job. It's what people do. I asked how he knew and he says he can see it in her face when she comes over to deal with me. It was one of those odd moments where I'm reminded that other people see things that I don't. But it also got me wondering if he was telling the truth or if he was just doing his job of dutiful companion, egging me on and boosting my confidence.

I've been sitting on the situation for a while and it's not going away. In fact it is occupying more and more of my thoughts. My concerns are many-fold. For a start I'm kind of happy in my life right now, mainly. Do I need change? Am I ready to be in another relationship? I am also worried that I don't really want to be in a relationship with this person, I just want to know that someone likes me. Also do I really want to get involved with someone I work with? If it goes wrong I don't think I'm robust enough to be around someone I've been in a past relationship with. I mentioned this concern to my colleague who told me it was no way to think. I'm also minded that I never get a chance to meet women apart from at work. My colleague was of the opinion that I should "go for it" but he would say that, it's his job.

I sat on the situation some more and it got to the stage where it simply had to stop. I had to do something to end how I was feeling. I was anxious a lot of the time so finally resolved to take steps. I was finding that confiding in my colleague was making things easier for me so made my plans known to him. I had made my mind up that I was going to try and push things onto "the next step".

But how? I'm never really alone with her, so over a game of pool I asked my colleague what he thought about asking her over an e-mail. He laughed solidly for about 3 minutes. When he had regained his composure he said, with a grin, "You can't do that" then continued to laugh again. The saddest part is that I'd already written the e-mail out, it was sat in my "Drafts" for want of a "Send". It was full of my literary style, my humour, rhythm and flow, my way of phrasing things. It was dynamite. The only women I have ever managed to seduce have always been through the written word. Is that bad? It's who I am after all. I know real men don't do those things; real men hitch their belts, grab their crotch and ask girls out on dates. Was it so bad that I didn't want to do that? It got me thinking...here was a rare chance of me doing something that normal people do. Asking a girl out...in the flesh. But I know I'd be rubbish at it, and the as-yet-unsent email was solid gold. What was more important to me? To pretend to be normal for 5 minutes even though I'm not normal, or to just be me? Half of me was excited and half felt like a traitor.

My plans were delayed slightly when she was off ill, but when she was back at work I knew I had to do this, I had to bring this thing to a conclusion one way or the other. While calm on the outside my insides were raging. My mind was racing, my heart was thumping, the adrenalin was surging. My stomach was in knots and at points felt like it was entangled in my throat. I did some dry runs, I paced the corridors, in my head I envisioned how it might all happen, and I realised something...the crashing fear was never going to go. The pure and utter dread was never going to end. This must be what it is like doing a bungee jump or a sky-dive. Standing on the precipice gripped by utter fear and nothing you can say to yourself will calm or sooth you. Nothing is going to take away the fear. In those situations you can either back down, or do it with the fear. You either take a step back from the edge and retreat, or you grab the fear with both hands, bear hug it and take it with you. I knew I couldn't back down, I knew this had to end...I knew I had to do this despite the fear. I had to do it fear and all.

I approached her desk "Can I have a word?" It was nothing out of the ordinary and she thought nothing of it, as I said we do occasionally deal with each other. She stood to follow me and I pointed to the hallway and as I opened the office door and stepped out I heard her side to a colleague "...it's an outside word?" I was petrified. I had stepped off the precipice and now I was free-falling. Inertia gone, momentum carrying me on a journey that I now could not stop even if I wanted to. The pavement was coming up fast. I was praying the corridor would be empty and for once my prayer was answered.

Sometimes the best way to say something is to just come out and say it. "I was just wondering if you'd like to come out for a drink some time?" I think that's what I said. To be honest my memory of the whole experience is somewhat vague. "What?" In a previous failed attempt to steady my nerves I had gone over the various ways I thought this conversation could go, but "What?" wasn't one of them. "You know...a drink..." "What? Sorry?" Words were failing me now so a "how about it" shrug had to suffice. "Sorry, I didn't quite get you for a while there, I'm still recovering from being unwell" was her response. At that point the Earth opened up ready to swallow me whole. Well...not Earth exactly but the elevator that I had the foresight to summon when we first entered the corridor. "Are you going out?" she said, spying my escape route. "To the shop across the road" I said. "Ok...we'll talk about this later" were her parting words as the cold metal doors slid between us and took me down to Hell.

At lunch I relayed the debacle to my colleague over pool who was upbeat about it and keen to point out the positives. But he had to...that's his job. He said that she was probably just a little shocked and didn't know how to react right away. She was too shocked to say "yes" but not shocked enough to enunciate "We'll talk about this later"? My colleague paused, then said that maybe today wasn't the best day to ask. He said that she had just come back to work from not feeling well and you could tell she was still down and not feeling herself. I asked him to elaborate and he explained that she wasn't wearing any make-up so probably wasn't feeling that great about herself so wanted to go and talk it over with her friends first. Who spots these things? Who realises that a woman isn't wearing make-up? Again I'm half wondering if this is my lack of social observation or him just trying to make me feel better.

I may be a social retard but I've learned enough through the years to know that "We'll talk about this later" is just a polite way of saying "No." The thing is though...at least now it's over. Now it's done with. Now I can get on with things and I'm feeling quite relieved. I don't think we'll ever have the "later" talk, she'll probably never speak to me again. If my colleague was maybe encouraging me a little too much I'm not overly concerned. Because I did it. I actually did it. Maybe I chose the wrong day, wrong time, wrong location and the wrong method...maybe I was a bit full on...but I took a girl to one side and asked if she would like to go for a drink. I completely exposed myself and made myself vulnerable. I made my intentions perfectly clear, I put myself out there and I said "here I am, this is how I feel now take me or leave me." I did it...I'm a real boy now.

Butterflies and rocks

In my head I see the conversation we have in situations I lack the courage to engineer. I wait like a coward instead. Wait for the situation to occur naturally, of its own will as I lose mine and remain silent like a coward instead. You walk off to your life, I walk back to mine.

Call me Mr Nobody

It seems to me that conversations have different levels that are obtained in sequential order. When people initially meet, they grab the first rung of the ladder which is social chat; chit chat and the like. Nothing of any depth, just conversing about whatever. Like two boxers eyeing each other up in the ring…circling and throwing the odd, testing jab to see their opponent's form, style and reach. During this stage of conversation two people get a gauge for if they like each other and how much they enjoyed each other's conversation and general countenance.

If people are driven to spend enough time with each other, or if they just connect strongly enough, they move up to the next level of conversation where things are more meaningful. They may discuss on their opinions and views of things, now safe that their companion is sympathetic to their views. They may be more candid about their life situations, or they may discuss in detail about the things that interest them now they know their companion is reciprocal. As people tend to like people with similar interests there is more range of things they can talk about in a more in-depth manner. If sense of humour is similar then they can add a humorous angle to their experiences, or bring something into conversation purely down to the fact that they found it amusing. It is from these types of conversation that lasting friendship can spawn.

The thing about me, and I guess most people with Asperger's Syndrome, is that I am actually a socially boring person. I'm not a boring person, I can converse in-depth and with articulation and knowledge on many, many topics. I also have a pretty good sense of humour and can throw the odd joke or humorous observation into most topics. When it comes to the upper-rungs of the conversation ladder I can hold my own along with the best of them, I just can't handle that first step. If a stranger were to come up to me and attempt to spark up a conversation they'd soon find themselves frustrated and bored, as general meaningless chit-chat isn't something in my vocabulary.

As you can well imagine this is quite frustrating. I know I'm a fairly decent guy with a lot to offer, but no-one else does. Not through any fault of their own, but mine. I have things to say and discuss and talk about but no-one to really share my thoughts with. I realise I give off an impression to people that I'm curt and uninteresting and I suppose in these initial moments of meeting they're right…I am a socially uninteresting person.

Even though I can converse at those upper rungs of the ladder, I myself still can't instantly jump there. I can't approach a stranger, or have a stranger approach me, and converse on higher subjects right away; I too need that initial phase where you get comfortable with people, but for me that stage involves much less conversation :) So how do we get past that first rung of the ladder? How do we convince people to persevere with us? How can we drag them to our heights? If I had the answer I'd bottle it.

For me anyway, two things do help. First is working with people via your job. That way you're forced to be around each other and spend time with each other. In this captive situation you can conduct the "getting to know you" stage at your own pace. On-line situations also help where people tend to be in the same community due to a shared interest, and again you can get involved in a level you're comfortable with.

I mentioned the frustration before; having all these things inside you that you feel are going to waste. But the other aspect of frustration is when other people insist that you "just need to come out of your shell" and "stop being shy". I have no shell and I'm not shy. Yet again it is just that our worlds don't align, that I'm a square peg trying to fit your round hole because your round hole is what is considered to be correct.

It's 2am on a Saturday

The streets are filled with energy and anger. Mostly anger. In nooks and crannies men are trying to bring their women around from some situation or other, or people are shouting on the phone to people they've become separated from probably by design rather than accident.

I see striped shirts are out now and checked shirts are in. The streets are a sea of check over blue denim and men loiter in gangs whilst shouting. Spatial context is gone and they roam and wander with no regard for anyone else and you're constantly dodging some zigzagging 80s arm chair in a world of his own, oblivious to everyone else. Women strut down the street in defensive stances, their arms crossed and tucked squarely, only breaking form to occasionally pull their skirt down from 1 inch below their ass to the maximum extent of 2 inches. Packs of men hunt down the solo females and posture in a contest to devour them as the females strut on, eyes fixed forward and praying inside. Being the biggest, loudest fucking asshole you can be is obviously appealing to women.

Homeless men sit on benches and call out to you as you pass. I don't hear them as I'm listening to music through my earphones but I know they're calling out as they always do. Homeless females prefer to sit in doorways looking downtrodden, luring men into their lair. Men always want to save women when they're drunk…not because they want to free them but because they want to own them. Men kneel down in their check shirts to offer trite words of advice about giving up drink and drugs, which the homeless women toss away, and money which they keep, ready to be saved by the next man too.

Outside the popular pubs are schools of men in check shirts, and women of all sizes in short skirts. Fake tan and pink Stetsons cause a feeding frenzy that I have to carefully pick my way through as I know the slightest knock or nudge could alert the sharks to my presence. Voices are raised everywhere as men either pick out victims or look down at illuminated faces of phones, women flirt with doormen while they pull their skirts down, some sit on the pavement with kebabs in their laps and their knickers on show while the pavements around them are a collaboration of streams coming from doorways where men are pissing like animals.

I get to my destination; a small shop just beyond where the pubs thin out. "No alcohol" the angry man barks as I come in, the same as he does to everyone. I take a diet coke to the counter which he rings up in silence. I look at the price on the till display and pay, then he hands me my change in silence. I think "no alcohol" is the only English he knows and as I leave a gang of men dressed as marathon runners pour in to a chorus of "No alcohol".

Walking back the way I have come I once more walk through the chaos and anger, the fear and the desperation, and the further I walk the more the women thin out having all but been picked off. The city seems to work as one; a predatory eco-system with everyone hunter of some and victim of other. Men have returned home with their trophies, or their hangovers, and I have returned home with my diet coke.

I don't even need diet coke…I just have an urge to be among people that are, like it or not, my peers. I need to prey on them, I want to experience them even if it is at a distance. I hate them but it is the jealous hatred of a child who can't have what he so desperately wants.

My telephone poles, my dark trenches, my broken windows, my park benches

Well my holiday is almost all but over and it's been a journey of mixed emotions. I really enjoyed by trip back to my home city, however it only reminded me how much I'd love to live in a big city again, a thriving city full of things to do and places to go. It is a city of options and opportunities. A place one could truly get lost. I did have one "AS moment" though when my companion and I tried to get into a particular bar one evening. I did what I normally do…head down and no eye contact as my companion satisfied the social requirements of entering the premises. I could hear the usual pawns being exchanged such as "Y'all right?" and I stood, fixed on the door waiting for the bouncer to open it. Then an unusual move, "Y'all right?" I know enough that "Y'all right" is rhetorical and never repeated so I looked at the bouncer who was staring right at me with incredible intent. "Y'all right?" "Yeah" I said and tried for a moment to be "normal", I looked him in the eye and answered "yeah mate". He stared suspiciously then said to my companion "Not tonight…yeah?" and with that we left. I'm guessing he took my lack of eye contact to be a deliberate attempt to conceal some form of narcotics use and my detachment from the world as being the smoking gun. The irony was that I was stone cold sober, I was just being me.

That aside, during my long-weekend back home I really felt that I had re-gained something that I'd lost since my diagnosis. I spent a long time in the company of others and of course there were lots of silences…I doubt I'm ever going to be a social butterfly and unless it is a topic I'm interested in conversation will always dry. But I pretty much pulled it off. If I ever revealed my dirty secret I doubt they'd be surprised, I don't think "but you seem so normal" would be the first thing they'd say. I did re-discover some confidence though and I came back feeling quite happy and pleased.

Though naturally I was still delighted to get back, back to my current home, my current town. By the end of the week I was even actually enjoying my time off. I was enjoying just pottering around and not doing a lot. Enjoying not having the stress of work. That didn't last though…come Saturday I started feeling a lot of anxiety, and today was no different. I've been anxious all day, pacing up and down, every second feeling like an hour. This is all too familiar to me…that wait for Monday when I can recommence my routine of work and gym. Only then will my happiness return. It's not just the anxiety though…everything has fallen apart. In the week since my holiday started everything has broken…my flat is a tip, clothes are everywhere, nothing has been done, dishes are piling up, rubbish is piling up. I'm just watching the clock, for tomorrow will be truly magical.

Hands upon my back again

Tomorrow is my last day at work for just over a week as I've taken some time off. It's a good time for me to take a break as the job is definitely more stressful than my last job and it's been 8 months with no break for me now. Plus I really need to use the holiday up before the end of the year.

It's just that I've been here before. So many times. I hate taking time off, I hate breaking the routine. Most people would be joyous and excited, whereas I am fretful and nervous. It's not just the break in routine but once more I am pushing myself out of my comfort zone and travelling back to the place of my birth (only for the long weekend, the rest I'll spend back here). Further more I'll be staying with someone rather than staying in a hotel, and I don't do well in the constant company of others. What I'm wondering is if this "comfort zone" stuff is actually worth it. None of this stuff gets any easier the more I do it, so if it never gets any easier, and makes you feel uncomfortable, then is it worth it? Am I actually making things better for myself in the long-term, or just worse for myself in the short-term?

I just hope that when I get back I'll be blogging that I don't know what I was so worried about and that it was great and that I had a great time. We'll see.

A life half lived

When I was younger we had a board game called The Game of Life. Despite its facetious name I suppose it was fairly accurate. You went to school and got a degree, got a job, married, bought a house, had kids then retired. In a way that's what life is to most people. Now that I'm getting on in years I see that people around me are all in long-term relationships, or getting married, or having kids, or buying houses, or planning retirement…playing The Game.

When I was a kid we spent our days pulling pigtails and playing computer games. Now that I'm an adult it's kinda weird how everyone else is playing The Game but I'm still pulling pigtails and playing computer games. I don't dwell on it, but sometimes I think about all of the normal things I've never known, and probably never will know. Time is marching on relentlessly but I'm staying the same, getting more and more distant from my peers, never being able to advance beyond those first few squares. They're developing their lives while I'm treading water. Next they'll all be dying, just to make me jealous.

I suppose in a way my current abstinence from alcohol is simply a subconscious furtherance of this retraction from life. I was never the social butterfly, but when I was drinking I did at least have a reason to leave my house at the weekend when the sun was down. I wasn't socialising as such, but at least I was out among people. I wasn't diving from the high board, but at least I had my toes in the water. At least I was rolling the dice.

Every day when I go into work and hear about the lives of others it's dawning on me what "life" is supposed to be and the pleasure people get from it. If they knew the truth, my life to them would seem like the plot from some futuristic horror movie. They don't know the truth though, so instead each Monday they ask "What did you do at the weekend?"; faces aglow with fresh memories and enthusiasm.

"Nothing."

Killing time

Sunday, 6pm. I haven't left the house all day. I got up late and did French toast for lunch, started playing my xbox and here I still am. Not only a stranger to the outside, but also to clothes. I put the controller down, get dressed, gather up The Picture of Dorian Gray and head to my local by way of the newsagent. I haven't showered or washed since Friday night.

It is bitterly cold outside but the pub is warm, if loud, and fairly busy although there is a table free so I stay. I order a diet coke and sit at the free table and place my paper down. I lament at the growing redundancy of newspapers as the last sections are "sport" (in the UK sport is a euphemism for "football") that I have no interest in so never read. It seems to me that there are two kinds of men…one who reads a newspaper from the back to the front, and me. Leaving the professional lives of footballers to face the table, I turn over the first, second, third, fourth and fifth pages of the front of the paper as they are adorned with the personal lives of footballers that I have no interest in.

My paper spent, and me no more educated, I sit still for a while and listen to the music that, for once, is quite pleasant, if a little loud. It feels like that special effect you see on TV where the protagonist stays still while the world flurries past in a stop-motion blur. To my left are a group of musicians that are killing time waiting for their gig to start at the venue next door. To the right of me are a group of men, standing up in the glow of the television that broadcasts sport. Having lost the power of speech, everything the say must be shouted and enforced with fists on tables and unreasonably loud and raucous fake laughter. If they can address someone at the other end of the room rather than one beside them it is all the better as they can scream and shout all the louder.

At the bar is sat an off-duty barmaid. It seems that when you work at a bar it becomes your life. You're there when you're working and socialising when you're not. She is an attractive girl with a good body that she refuses to show off. Queen bee in human form, everywhere she goes there is a swarm of men buzzing around her and she flits her attention between them all, flirtatiously running her fingers through her honey-blonde hair.

The time I used to kill with alcohol is now left to me to spend in regret. I wonder if I actually don't want to be social, or if I've just given up. A part of me envies these people and their circle of friends, spending time instead of killing it. Filling their moments with joy and happiness while I fritter mine away. A part of me remembers the two unanswered text messages on my phone and remembers who I am.

Leaving the room to themselves, I open my book and continue to read while I try my best to block out the environment. When I'm done reading I'll go home to my xbox. I'll have something to eat. I'll watch a movie. I'll wait for the day to end.

Big spaces and small spaces

After my initial introduction to my new company I have been moved into the general population…namely the main open-plan office. I know many people with Asperger's Syndrome have problems with open-plan offices and such but I'm not that bothered by it. I'm missing the reduction in screen privacy, and I guess I am occasionally annoyed by the idiotic discussions that go on around me, both technical (someone didn't understand why when updating something using jQuery the html in view->source did not also change (sorry if you don't understand that)) and non-technical (someone telling an anecdote about someone they knew who worked at a bank and programmed the computers to siphon off spare money…I swear this actually took place, I couldn't bite my lip and had to inform him that wasn't an anecdote, it was the plot for Superman III).

Stranger than the open-plan office is the lift that I need to take each morning, and each evening. It's only a few floors but when you’re in a confined space with someone you're constantly thinking in your head "please no-one start a conversation"…but they always do. We're in there for 20 seconds or less…how can you have a conversation? Gah! This morning I had to actually go the wrong way out of the office so I didn't cut my co-converser off mid anecdote (he was telling me about his friend who got bitten by a radioactive spider). Then on the way home rather than go to the car park I had to walk half way down the road so I didn't cut off someone else mid-anecdote.

Damn you, cruel fate!

There's a terrible twist to having Asperger's Syndrome that leads me to believe it was either designed by the devil, or I have been a very bad person in a former life. It goes without saying that I'm not the best face-to-face communicator which makes it all the harder for starting relationships. I can only really meet women in quite controlled circumstances… pubs and clubs are out of the question, as are overly noisy places or places where there are lots of distractions. Hopefully also a place the same woman habituates to allow me to gradually get to know her and work what little charms I have. Now let's throw into the mix the fact that all of my pastimes are either solitary or male-dominated, and it'd be easier finding a bacon sandwich in a mosque than a suitable partner.

My quiver is not entirely devoid of arrows though. Via a focused and controllable medium like e-mail where it is just me, the canvas, and time, I can be quite eloquent. When the social barrier that stops me taking part in the world is not a factor I can let my real self come out, I can express myself and engage with people. I imagine that the way I communicate through e-mail is the way normal people communicate face to face. These keys…these fingers…this is my face.

So at a certain level I am able to stir interest in a member of the opposite sex…but why do we e-mail people in the first place? Because we have no physical access to them, usually because they live far away. And that's the sand in the Vaseline. The one social skill I do have rendered completely useless.

Let's get the party started

It was my new company's Christmas party last week, and I thought I'd better go along. I had an idea I wouldn't like it as it takes me a while to relax around new people. I had a get-together with my old work colleagues and it was great. People I'd known for years and I felt relaxed and able to talk, or just listen and not feel bad. We talked about people we knew and events we had all shared in.

My new work colleagues are all still a mystery to me, and I still haven't met 90% of the company. I turned up to the venue in my usual non-work attire of jeans and a t-shirt. Luckily I saw others arrive as I approached and my attire was somewhat "off point" so I had to go home to change into something more suit orientated. I returned to the venue and walked into a massive room where everyone was mingling and I was probably the last to turn up. Even in my new clothes I was underdressed with most men wearing morning suits or tuxedos and the females all wore glamorous ball gowns and dresses.

And I first turned up in jeans and a T-shirt.

I felt quite embarrassed and humiliated to be honest. How could I have gotten it so wrong? Two hundred people seemed to instinctively know the dress code was ubersmart; they had all managed to tap into this subconscious stream of social awareness that runs through all human beings with the exception of myself. At least I was in a position to go home and change - otherwise it would have been like that dream where you're naked, only more embarrassing.

The format of the evening was a mingle followed by us sitting for a meal in pre-arranged tables, and then more mingling after the meal. Needless to say my pre-drink mingling was awkward and mainly involved me hovering in the background of people who were probably internally debating on whether to acknowledge my existence or not.

The meal wasn't too bad as I kinda knew a few people on my table so made sure I arranged to sit next to them. In order to do so I had to swap places with someone so I swapped our name cards to complete the subterfuge. After 10 minutes or so in my seat its rightful owner approached and picked her wine glass up from in front of me, saying "sorry, I left my drink at your seat" with an amazingly subtle amount of sarcasm.

After the meal people started to talk and drift and people came and went and the whole seating structure of the room broke down and people floated like nebulous particles waiting to dock. The noise got louder and louder and I started to shut down, waiting for an opportunity to leave under the cloak of other people's social activity.

And then it happened…the pity talk. Someone who themselves seemed to have no-one to talk to, not because they were autistic but because they were boring, came over and flatly announced "I thought I'd come and talk to you". By now I had already shut down, I could barely hear anything, I tried to read their lips as best I could but ended up leaning in for far too many "eh?"s. I conversed the best I could but there was no way out of this. It was a war of attrition where neither of us had anyone to come to the rescue, and my mobile phone was off so I couldn't simulate a "silent call" with some deft manipulation so I was stuck. In one of the many lulls in our conversation I excused myself to see if "someone I'm giving a lift to" had left yet and they got the message and allowed me to scan the room with full neck motion until they got the message and left. I left shortly after.

It would have been better for me if I had never gone in the first place. I'm sure I came across as pretty rude to a few people *shrug* I just need more time to feel comfortable around these people, but I think I've put myself one step forward and two steps back. My probation is coming to an end in a few weeks too.

Transmogrification

It's dawning on me that my concept of friendship isn't quite what I thought it was. I think I've been under the influence of friendship-by-proximity. I've changed jobs a few times and I know the drill…everyone says they want to keep in touch but you all drift apart anyway. Lots of people I know are still friends with people from old jobs so I know it's just me…or more accurately people with Asperger's Syndrome.

I've always liked the people I worked with in my previous job and liked spending time with them. Or so I thought. Now that I've changed jobs and don't have to spend time with them and will only have to go to things I'm invited to…I have a strange feeling coming over me. Almost like a weight off my shoulder. Not a big weight, not a boulder…more like a few handfuls of sand. I'm subconsciously coming to terms with the fact that I probably won't ever see any of them ever again and it's actually a strange relief of sorts.

So does part of my brain force me to believe I am friends with these people because I have to be? Because I work with them? Or do I do my best to be friends but I don't recognise the mental effort it takes, so now I don't have to be friends with them I can avoid having to make that effort? Sure I lose the friends, but my life is easier.

The other aspect to this is one of paranoia I guess. Not being able to read people's motives or genuine feelings very well I don't know if they also are only friends-by-proximity too. Do they only pretend to be friends with me because they have to? Because they work with me? I don't know to be honest, and I'm not sure I want to contact these people to say "hey you want to go for a drink tonight?" only to be met with ums and ahs and excuses.

I just feel like as the days drift on I'm getting more and more used to the fact that that part of my life is now over and I'll probably never return to it. And not only that, but for the rest of my life I might never really find a genuine, stay-with-me friend. For many reasons - not just because I find it hard to know what is involved in maintaining a friendship, but now I also realise I have a fear of committing myself to something that is not reciprocated. A fear that as I don't know who is a genuine friend I could end up feeling humiliated.