Navigating friendship as an autistic person
Building lasting bonds on our terms
If you believe the myths, autistic folks not only can’t and don’t have friends—they don’t want friends. That’s patent BS. One of the core differences in autistic girls and women that for so long led clinicians up the garden path was our comparative sociability. Rather, at least superficially, we seemed to more interested and able to socialize than our male counterparts.
The band Cake once sang, “Friend is a four-letter word.” It’s both a song and a sentiment I feel so much, I titled a chapter of my memoir after it. “End is the only part of the word that I heard…” Brilliant.
As a kid, I yearned for the kinds of friendships I read about and saw in shows like Degrassi and My So-Called Life. But the reality was much harder to come by. I was hypersensitive to conflict and seemed to inexplicably court rejection. Over time I developed a paranoia of saying or doing the wrong thing to alienate people—a paranoia that exists to this day.
My social ineptitude and shyness was largely explained away by the fact that I am an only child. If only I’d had siblings, I would have learned how to get along with others, how to share and take turns without having to “get my own way” all the time. So I believed. I had a cousin the same age whose lead I followed in everything. When she wasn’t around, I masked and copied other girls, kept a low profile and otherwise deferred to their preferences so as to make myself likeable or at least, invite-able. Eventually it became clear that being an only child did not fully explain my social confusion and awkwardness.
Even in my forties, friendship remains an enigma. I rarely make new friends. When I do, it’s by accident. Other times I think I’ve made a genuine connection with someone, only to be brushed off. Either I read the situation all wrong, or else they were just being polite. It’s enough to make me not want to put myself out there.
These days I am selective and mistrustful because of past experiences. I seek out people with whom I can be true. I don’t have the energy for all the hiding and mimicry of my younger days. I want people who are happy to skip the small talk; people who don’t take it personally if I don’t text back until the next day.
Most of the friendships I have are longstanding, and newer ones just so happen to be with other neurodivergent folks. What I’m realizing is that I don’t have the same social bandwidth as others. I used to think that was a problem. I can handle one-to-one hangs, but group settings have always been a nightmare. My skin crawls, and I eventually shut down or get sick. Now I know this is just part of my personal experience of being autistic. So, I factor in recovery days and plan to leave gatherings after a set amount of time. I opt for a quiet coffee and a walk with a friend instead of dinner or drinks at a loud bar or restaurant.
I used to dream of having a group of tight friends like those on Friends and Sex and the City. Now I know I don’t need that. A few close friends suits me just fine, and often long stretches of time will pass without us having any contact. When we do meet up, we pick up where we left off and have long, intense conversations about books and psychology, movies and art… I tend to have different friends for different seasons, and these friends seldom know each other.
Many autistic friendships consist of shared interests and parallel enjoyment of hobbies and niche subjects. Every month my book club friends meet online, and it’s such a nourishing space. In the age of the internet, there is no need for isolation and loneliness. There is room for every person and every interest; my teen has shown me that. Proximity and frequency don’t define the quality of the friendship. My own friends are spread out in various cities. My son’s online friends are dotted all over the world, and they talk in great detail about linguistics with such passion. Recently Carson connected with a kid (also AuDHD) in his class and went to his place after school. This was the first time he has ever been invited to another kid’s house to hang out. I can’t tell you how major this was. Carson is 16. I am sad that it took so long for him to find a friend at school, but also thrilled that he is now having this experience.
Making friends when you are autistic is hard at any age, but especially so in midlife. It seems that a lot of people aren’t open to welcoming new friends. Some people do care but are simply caught up in their own lives or terrible at initiating contact. Trying to figure out people’s intentions is exhausting and confusing.
I’ve learned the hard way that just because someone is friendly doesn’t mean they want to be friends. Even in my 40s, I still struggle to tell the difference. I cringe at the number of times I’ve followed up with people who say, “let’s get together soon,” only to find they had no intention of getting together.
This is one example where AI can be used to provide guidance. Here is a simple flowchart that tests whether someone is genuinely interested in pursuing a friendship:
Do they ever start conversations with you?
No → They’re likely just being polite.
Yes → Move to next step.
Do they ever ask about you beyond surface-level topics?
No → Just being polite.
Yes → Move to next step.
When they say “We should hang out,” do they actually set a date?
No → Just being polite.
Yes → Real friendship potential!
If you stop initiating, do they still check in?
No → Social nicety, not real friendship.
Yes → Real connection!
Being ghosted or manipulated still hurts, and I still shudder at the slightest hint of provocation or competitiveness in friendships. I’ve learned that it’s okay to walk away from relationships that make me feel unsafe. I have enough stress in my life; at my age, I don’t need “frenemies.” Friends who support your boundaries and don’t expect constant masking are the real deal. Those who leave you feeling drained, pressured, or dismissed, are not.
What is your friendship style? Do you like groups or one-to-one? How do you meet or communicate?
I hear you, Julie. I have had so many friends ghost me through the years, and I often never knew why. Now, in my forties, I prefer a handful of friends with whom I keep in touch regularly. And it also helps me to remember that some of my friendships serve different purposes in my life: some are my "fun" friends, but I'll never tell them my darkest secrets. Some are my "book club" friends, but I'm not going to ask them for advice. I probably have one or two people with whom I can truly, unabashedly be myself.
Also: I owned the Cake album with the song "Friend Is a Four-Letter Word," and now it is an earworm I must get rid of all day! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! :)