Throughout my life, I’ve often been caught off guard by a particular sentence: “Of course we’re friends, you’re one of my favourite people!” Each time, my reaction is the same: Huh? We’re friends? I thought you just tolerated me?
I’ve always struggled with the concept of friendship. It felt too intricate, too full of unwritten rules I didn’t understand. For a long time, I chalked it up to not being very good at having friends. I enjoyed solitude and preferred interactions to be transactional or confined to organised settings, like the office or a toddler group. It wasn’t until I began exploring my neurodivergence—and observing my five-year-old son—that I realised this confusion wasn’t a personal failing. It was autism.
The Child Who Mirrors Me
Watching my son navigate his social world has been an eye-opener. He’s five years old and has a handful of kids he enjoys spending time with at school. Yet, outside those gates, those friendships seem to vanish. He doesn’t mention his classmates or express interest in playdates or parties. To him, school is where social interactions belong. His home life, his personal time, is a sacred, solitary space. Any suggestion we spend that time with other kids is met with tears and panic.
When other kids greet him enthusiastically, he often doesn’t know how to respond. He might look away or pretend they’re not there. Yet, despite his reserved nature, he’s well-liked by peers and teachers. They see something in him that he doesn’t quite recognise himself—a reflection of my own experience.
A Lifelong Struggle
As an autistic adult, I’ve always felt as though I were missing the instruction manual for friendship. Social connections feel like an alien concept, governed by vague, unspoken rules I can’t decipher.
Over the years, I’ve found myself in conversations with people I see regularly—colleagues, fellow parents, acquaintances—only to realise after a year or two that they consider me a friend. That realisation usually requires a direct question on my part: “I’ve been wondering, are we friends?” Their answer, often something along the lines of “Of course we are!”, always leaves me stunned. To me, they were just people I happened to see and chat with in specific settings.
The Challenge of Being a Friend
Even once I establish that someone considers me a friend, the questions don’t stop:
- How often am I supposed to check in with them?
- What are their expectations of me?
- Why isn’t there a clear manual for these things?
The lack of concrete guidelines makes maintaining friendships an uphill battle. I’ve lost many connections because I didn’t understand what was required of me—whether it was attending social events, remembering birthdays, or buying gifts for milestones.
In retrospect, I see these losses as a natural filtering process. Friendships work best with people who, like me, aren’t bound by traditional social rules. With these individuals, I feel free to create our own framework for connection, one that accommodates our shared awkwardness and unique needs.
Finding My People
My closest friends are those who simplify the process of connection. One friend in particular stands out because of her clear and enthusiastic declarations. A few days after we first met, she said, “I’M SO PLEASED YOU’RE MY NEW FRIEND!”—a directness that left no room for doubt.
These friendships, built on mutual understanding and clear communication, are the ones I value most. They allow me to be myself without fear of misunderstanding or judgment. Some of these friends I see and speak with regularly, others I rarely see but keep in touch online. What works with each friend is different, but we have found a comfortable space together.
Embracing My Quirks
Even now, I don’t fully understand why some people enjoy my company. I often feel like my quirks and idiosyncrasies should be off-putting. Yet, some individuals not only tolerate these traits—they embrace them.
These connections remind me that friendship isn’t about conforming to a set of unspoken rules. It’s about finding people who see value in who you are, just as you are. And for that, I am deeply grateful.
Closing Thoughts
For anyone who struggles with friendship, whether due to autism or other challenges, know that it’s okay to approach connection differently. You don’t need to follow traditional social scripts to build meaningful relationships. The right people will accept your quirks, meet you halfway, and help you create a framework that works for both of you.
Friendship, I’ve learned, isn’t about perfection or fitting in. It’s about shared understanding, mutual respect, and the willingness to make your own rules. And for those who truly matter, that’s more than enough.
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