14. You actually like something about me?
14 /
you actually like something about me?
rafael
CHARLIE:
Hi. Can I ask some questions about your dyslexia?
I’m sorry if that’s rude.
I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, and the research I’m doing isn’t exactly clear since this seems to be a little different depending on the person.
It’s been six hours since Charlie left my house. After skipping, I worked out for nearly an hour, then ate enough food to feed a family of four, and still, my brain has not stopped replaying the last five words she said to me. This seems to be a recurring theme in my life since meeting Charlie—the words that she says stick to me like they’re feathers, and I’m covered in Elmer’s Glue.
CHARLIE:
Okay. That was rude.
I’m sorry.
You don’t have to answer me.
But can you also not ignore me?
Because it’s hard for me to deal with rejection, and being ignored feels like rejection.
It’s an ADHD thing. You can look it up if you want.
Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.
I look at the time stamp and notice the first couple of texts were sent over three hours ago. Shit.
ME:
Sorry, I didn’t have my phone on me. You can ask whatever you want.
And I know about RSD. I have ADHD, too.
Before I’ve even hit send on that second message, three little dots appear on the screen.
CHARLIE:
Is reading these text messages difficult for you?
Because I’ll stop texting if this is frustrating or whatever.
You have ADHD, too????
I should have seen the signs, but without context, reading people can be hard. Thanks, autism.
And I know it can present differently in men vs women.
ME:
No. Texting is fine, and if I’m tired, I just have my phone dictate it to me so I don’t have to read it. Or I’ll send back voice notes, if that’s okay.
Handwriting is tricky because the letters are different and inconsistent. Things sort of blur together, and it’s hard to make sense of it all. Even my own handwriting is awful and makes no sense.
CHARLIE:
Okay. That’s good to know.
Is that why you listen to books?
ME:
I read them sometimes, but I prefer listening to them, and I also like to read and listen at the same time.
But since I like to move around a lot, listening while running is a way for me to multitask two things I like.
CHARLIE:
Ohhhh.
Yeah, I don’t have the hyperactivity thing.
Not physically, anyway.
Just mentally.
Do you have any questions for me?
I feel like I’m asking for a lot of information here.
ME:
Ummm I can’t think of anything right now. Even though there are probably a hundred things I could ask.
I guess I want to be careful with you. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’ve done that enough already in the past, and I feel kind of sick about it.
CHARLIE:
Oh.
ME:
Sorry. That obviously made you uncomfortable. See? I’m no good at this.
CHARLIE:
It didn’t.
It’s fine. You’re fine.
No one has ever told me they want to be careful with me before.
Don’t walk on eggshells around me just because you know I’m autistic.
It’s nice that you want to be sensitive to that, but it’s worse if you start acting the way you think I need you to act. I can’t be myself if you’re not yourself, too.
Does that make sense?
ME:
Yeah. That makes perfect sense, actually.
Can I just ask for one thing, then?
CHARLIE:
Sure.
Yes.
Sorry, sure can sometimes seem standoffish.
Please, go ahead.
ME:
Can you let me know if I do or say something that makes you feel uncomfortable? Even if it’s not right away, can you just at some point let me know so I can stop doing it?
CHARLIE:
Yeah. Okay.
I’ll add that to the contract.
And I’ll send you a document so you can have a copy, too.
But yeah. It’s part of being honest with each other, right?
ME:
Yeah, red. That sounds great.
Also, I really dig the fact that you send so many messages all in a row. My phone is blowing up, and it’s kind of awesome.
CHARLIE:
You actually like something about me?
And here I thought you were committed to just barely tolerating me.
ME:
I like a lot of things about you, Chuck.
The three dots appear and then disappear a few times before they’re gone completely. Why did I say that? I mean, it’s true. I like her . I like her more than I think I should. More than I want to like her, even. But I like all of my friends. I like most people, actually. But I don’t like most people the way I like Charlie. I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone the way I like her.
ME:
Was that weird? I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to think I don’t like you. I’ve never not liked you. We just somehow ended up bickering all the time.
CHARLIE:
I just needed a moment to process.
I think that maybe I’ve held on to a grudge since meeting you.
I’ve had this idea that you’re a perfect guy with a perfect life, and nothing has ever been difficult for you.
And maybe I resented that.
No, I definitely resented that.
And I should apologize to you for this.
In person.
ME:
It’s okay. You don’t have to.
CHARLIE:
Yes, I do.
I want to.
It’s part of pushing myself to feel things and deal with them appropriately.
ME:
All right. But it’s okay if you don’t.
You know, I always thought you were the one with the pretty perfect life. You’re smart and beautiful. You always seem to go after what you want unapologetically. I’ve always thought that there was nothing you couldn’t do. I still do think that, but now I also respect the fuck out of you for doing it all while trying to fit into a world that doesn’t understand or always accept neurodivergent people.
CHARLIE:
Well, then, you should also respect the fuck out of yourself for doing the same.
Also, thanks.
I guess we just needed to find some common ground and let go of those misconstrued images we had of one another.
ME:
Haha yeah. That’s all.
Shit. Sorry. That was sarcasm.
All I’m saying is you’re right.
CHARLIE:
Relax. I got it.
Okay. Well, I should get some sleep.
Talk soon, Machado.
ME:
Later, Ginger Spice.