Underneath my yellow skin

Let’s talk about dating, sex, and more

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I want to talk more about dating, but not necssary about labels. I mean, the topic may come up, but that’s not the main purpose of this post.

The last two times I thought about dating to the point of composing the ad in my head, the world got in my way. The first time was in early February, 2020. I probably don’t need to say what happened that pushed the thought of dating out of my mind completely. In case you were in your once-in-a-lifetime coma at that time (I can juoke because I was in one myself), there was a little thing called a pandemic that was in full swing by early March.

There was Zoom dating during the pandemic, but that was not of interest to me. It seems like it combined all the worst parts of dating (heavy focus on looks, talking to someone you don’t know for at least fifcteen minutes if not longer, and small talk). I  mean, it’s not all that much different than going to a cafe with someone and having a coffee, but it feels much different.

Additionally, all I want is sex, which is not doable via Zoom. At least not actual skin touching skin sex. Which is what I want. If I just want to get off, then I could do that on my own. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if it’s just about me getting off, I can do that just fine by myself. In fact, I am the best at getting me off. I can do it in three sceonds if I want. If I’m going to be with someone else, it’s about the exploration and the physical interaction.

Look. Let’s be real and honest with each other. I have no interest in dating for the sake of dating or a long-term relationship. If I am going to go through the effort of dating and getting to know someone(s), then I’m going to eventually want sex. I’m specifically looking for booty is what I’m saying.

After the vax was created and I got both my shots (and several weeks afeter to let it sink in), I started to cautiously go out again. I’ve mentioned this several times, but I’ll restate it once again. I went to Cubs to start shopping for food again, the local Thai place with my brother, and (the worst decision in the world), Target. The last was a nightmare with so many people, the vast majority of theem unmasked.

This was around June/July. I started thinking about dating again–which was nearer to the end of August. Then, I got incredibly tired–the most tired I’ve been in my life–and that’s saying something. I’m tired most of the time after a lifetime of not sleeping well or much at all. This time, though, I was utterly exhausted. As in, I could not get out of bed exhausted.

Right before that, I started thinking about dating again. I was planning my ad, and then, I got hit with the medical crisis of my life. As in, being in the hospital unconscious for a week with the premise that I was not going to wake up.

That’s not the weirdest thing about the whole experience, by the way. You would think it was, but it wasn’t. I don’t know why that didn’t shake me–probably because I was drugged out of my mind. I was so strung out, and it felt great. For the first time, I could truly understand why people did drugs (I’ve never done them before) because I wavs flying high–and feeling no pain.

That’s not the point of this post, though. The point is that the last two times I thought about dating, the world said, “NOPE.” Not only did it say no, it said no in the most brutal way possible. I have started thinking I wanted to try to date again, but I”m worried. I’ll admit it. I don’t believe that bad luck comes in threes, but I don’t not believe it, either. More to the point, I’m not sure I want to test that theory.


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Last day of May–and more about labels, part eight

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Let’s talk more about labels and sexism. Oh, that wasn’t what we were talking about? Oh well. It’s what I want to talk about now. In the Discord I’m in, there was a discussion about boycotts and calling out actors for problematic ideas/behavior. This isn’t the first time this convo has happened, and I heave a sigh every time it comes up.

Here’s why. I don’t think cancel culture is a thing, first of all. If it were, then there would be waaaaaaaaay less abusers in pop culture. I mean, look at Harvey Weinstein. And Rupert Murdoch. And Matt Lauer. And, and, and….I could go  on for hours listing men who were known abusers and weren’t stopped. Hell, they were enabled, encouraged, and coddled. Let’s not forget the most famous of them all, Jeffrey Epstein. No, he wasn’t strictly Hollywood, but I can guarantee that there were many men in Hollywood who were visitors of Epstein’s island back when it was in operation.

Here’s the argument: No one is perfect and for everyone who is targeted for bad behavior/thoughts, there are hundreds of others like him. In this case, it was Henry Cavill and what he said during the MeToo movement. Some people want him in the Elden Ring movie. Other people pointed out his gross ideas, and, apparently, he’s a jerk to people he considers under him at work.

I have not liked him since his MeToo comments, but I don’t mention it because, quite frankly, I’m just tired. Plus, I’ve never really liked him nor do I find him attractive. He’s another I can see why others found him attractive, but he just did nothing for me. Once he stated his repugnant ideas during MeToo, he became waaaaaay less  attractive, even visually.

More to the point, he sounded as if he was in his eighties as he droned on and on about the days when men were men and women were fish to be caught. Women knew their place, damn it! They were to be chased and wooed. He actually said that, and I had to look at the year again and how old he was.

Besides the grossness of what he said, I was struck by how gender rigid his ideas were. Again, I thought they were fading away, but sadly, there seem to be many people who still believe that bullshit. Which is yet another reason I have no use for gender. I didn’t see why I should have to sit home at demurely tending to my knitting while I waited in vain for that special boy to muster up his courage and ask me out.

Why the hell shouldn’t I ask someone out? Also, being queer really underscores how silly all that is because with two people of the same gender, someone has to make the first move. But, that’s why people ask who the man and women are in the relationship. Because they can’t fathom anything other than the standard (and tired) heterosexual gender roles.

A few years ago, I was in a forum where a single woman asked if single women could be friends with married men. Most people (mostly women) said it was alright as long as–and then they listed a bunch of rules. Like only going out with both of them, not talknig about the man’s relationship with him, and other things like tthat. Most of them were assuming that they became friends after the man got married, by the way. I don’t think that matters, but that’s what they assumed.

This was last year or the year before at the earliest, so we’re talking about recent. We’re not talking about when I was in my twenties, thirties, or even forties. This was the mentality when I was in my twenties, and I had hoped it would get better by now. Sigh.

There were a few who said it didn’t matter the gender and there should be no different rules. This is where I stand. I have two besties, one man and one woman (the latter is more like me in that gender isn’t that important to her). I don’t treat them any differently based on their genders. I talk about the same kind of things. The differences are because of the interest they have, not because of their genders.

I’ve talked about both of their romantic relationships with them. I’ve talked about sex with both of them. I think both are very attractive people. I consider them both to be cloner than friends, but not romantic partners. And I don’t think I need to set any restrictions with one or the other based on their gender.

I distinctly remember one woman going on a rant about how men and women could not be friends and how nonbinary people didn’t count because something something terribly queerphobic. She said that in her marriage, her husband didn’t have any female friends because SHE WAS THE QUEEN AND WHAT WOULD HE NEED ANY OTHER WOMAN FOR?! She actually capped something in her screed, and it was really cringeworthy.

I mean, how terribly sad and insecure she must be to cut her husband off from more than half the population. There were fa few other women in that forum who’ve said that they don’t personally have male friends becaause they found it too much trouble (as married women). I don’t get it, but that’s not offensive. because of course, they can do wahtever they want with their own lives.

It’s jsut the dismissive attitude that no men and women can be friends that chaps my hide. Plus, how terribly narrow-minded of that person to think that just because SHE can’t be friends with any single man, it means that no one can.

One of my (male) exes once said that every male friend I had wanted to sleep with me. It was certainly true of him, but it’s not true in general. I have had several male friends who have not wanted to sleep with me and a few female friends who would have been happy to warm my bed.

Back to the antiquated idea that men and women can’t be friends. It’s bullshit.

Heh. I think that’s all I really need to say about that, but I do have a few more tihngs to say. I have always had friends of all different genders. I like people based on their personalty first and foremost. I don’t really care about their bits unless I’m going to be handling said bits and I only care then so I know how they want me to handle their bits. I like all bits! I’m an equal opportunity bit-handler.

I don’t know why it scares/angers some people so much–the idea that people of all and any genders can be friends. Well, actually, I do. It’s the same reason some women got so mad at me when I was in my twenties for not having/not wanting to have children. It’s beacuse it shakes up the status quo and makes them questions their own decisions.

Well that went in a wild direction. More tomorrow.

 

Labels and dating, part seven

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I’m back! And this time I am definitely going to talk about dating and labels. For sure. I am not going to veer off onto another topic and talk about that for over a thousand words. That is not like me at all, and I won’t deviate from the path at all in this post, either.

In the last post, I actually touched on dating, which was what I’ve wanted to talk about for the past few posts. If I were in my ideal world, this is the ad I would write. “I”m looking for a fuck buddy or three. Hit me up if you’re interested.”

That’s the basic gist of what I want, but, of course, we don’t live in an ideal world so I have to qualify that statement to get closer to what I really want. First of all, no Republicans. That is still my unberakable will not tolerate. Even more so now than when I dated thirty years ago, just no. Anyone who is a Republican in this day and age is on the wrong side of history. There is no moderation in today’s Republican Party. They are trying to destroy me and my kin; why the hell would I want to be a part of that?

Back when Marriage Equality was being debated, some Republicans were clutching their pearls and bleating about how uncivilized the queers were being in what they (we) said. “Why can’t we be civil about this?” They would say in earnest.

Because, motherfuckers, there’s nothing civil about trying to classify me as not a human being deserving of basic human rights. Our words may be uncivil, but your beliefs are worse. Besides, it’s not as if they would listen to us if we just used nicer words. Believe me, I’ve being fighting this fight for thirty years along with several other concerning civil rights. We are in danger of losing many of the rights we have gained over the last few decades, which breaks my heart.

And it’s made me draw a hard line in the sand. If you’re part of the current Republican Party, then you’re actively against me as a human being with equal rights to you. I do not have to date that if I don’t want to, and I most definitely do not want to.

By the way, the ‘both sides are bad’ people irritate the fuck out of me, too. No, both sides are not equally bad. I’m not saying either side is particularly great, but there is one side that is actively trying to strip me of my civil rights. There is one party that was behind the occupation of Minneapolis and the  terror it wrought on my home state.

This is something I touched on previous posts. When it comes to dating, people are allowed to be as discriminatory as possible. In fact, it always makes me chuckle  darkly when people tell me I have to give someone a chance. Interestingly, men usually say it with the belief that women and perceived women don’t have the right to turn down anyone who shows interest in them. The woman should be flattered! Especially when she’s not conventionally attractive.

The women who used to tell me I should give any guy a shot were coming at it from a different point of view–that any man was better than none. But they also believed that any man who had the courage to ask me out deserved a chance. “You never know!”


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One more post about labels, part six

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I still have one more post about labels in me s so let’s go! I’ve been planning on writing about labels when it comes to dating for the past two posts, but, well, that’s not what I ended up writing about. In the last post, I talked about labels I use for myself that I’m mostly fine with, including bi, Taiwanese American, and areligious. I don’t love two of them (bi, and areligious0, but they do the job. The other one (Taiwanese American) is factual, which makes it fine*.

I was going to say that in writing a dating profile, I would like to be able to avoid labels completely and not include a picture–but then I realized that’s not exactly true. What I want to do is avoid the people (ahem, men) who loooooooooooove Asian women and send me pics of their dicks unasked for, and, indeed, unwanted.

This was my experience the last time I tried to use the dating apps, and it was really dispiriting. I explicitly said that I did not want anyone who had an Asian fetish and DO NOT SEND DICK PICS. The  vast majority of responses I got ignored both of these edicts.

In a twisted way, it’s a blessing because they are just self-selecting out. If I didn’t have to actually see the dick pics, I would be ok with that. This was decades ago, so I don’t know if there are strictures in place on apps now that do not allow unsolicited dick picks to go through. I would think there should be a way to do that, but I’m not a tech person.

PSA: Guys. My dudes. I rarely make blanket statements, but this is one I’m more than comfortable in making . Do not send unsolicited dick pics. Period. There is no exception to this, and you are certainly not it. (I know there are guys out there who think their dicks are just that special; trust me, they aren’t.)

PSA II: Your dick really really isn’t that special. For many people who are not dudes but like dicks, it’s a specific dick that is attractive and not just dicks in general. I know for many straight dudes, any tits and/or pussy will do. But even then, I think more of them would be weirded out by random pic of them out of the blue. It can be disconcerting, and especially when you were not asking for it nor especially in the mood for it.

Again, I don’t know how common or acceptable that is now, but back in the Wild West days of PlentyofFish, it was rampant. I would hazard that I got a dick pic for at least one out of four responses I got. And the “I loooooooove Oriental girls” response ratio was much higher.

I was talking about this with my brother when he started dating again. Not the specifics of my travails, but how now that we were in our mid-fifties, we were much more certain about what we wanted and didn’t.

When I talked about this with my Taiji teacher today, I mentioned how as she knew, I liked being alone. So anyone I dated needed to add something to my life and not make it more stressful. When I was in my twenties, I was told that I needed to settle. Basically, that any man was better than none, and the worst fate that could befall me was ending up alone.

After several disastrous relationships, I would have to disagree with that. It’s much worse being with someone who is disdainful of/tired of you than being by myself. In fact, I love being by myself. It’s the only time I can relax and be me. I miss my Shadow (still) more than I can say, but that’s not the same as living with another human.


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The last post about labels (for now), part five

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I’m back for one last post about gender identity and labels.

Ha! We all know that’s not true. It may be the last one for now as I put in the title, but it’s certainly not going to be the last time I talk about gender, as much as I would like it to be. Yes, I could try never to think of it again, but that’s nearly impossible in this world.

Oh, here’s the post from yesterday. We’ll see if  I actually write about what I intend to write about.

When I was talking to K about gender identity, I said that it’s easy for me to accept gender changes in people because gender didn’t mean anything to me. If you remove the socio-political meaning from gender (which, I know, is impossible to do), then in really has no meaning in and of itself.

I mean, that’s pretty simplistic because you could say that about any word, really. A term has a basic meaning, and then it has the meaning that a society infuses it with. But in this case, I really am lost at sea with the word.

Side note: It’s interesting. I do not have the same struggle with other labels I use. I mean, I don’t like bisexual as a term, but it does at least come close to describing what I consider myself. I and many other bis think of it as people like me and people not like me (the bi part) rather than two genders. Of course, there are other people who use pansexual or omnisexual, but as I have said before, I don’t like either of those.

Damn. I Googled, and there are some really bad terms like ambisexual, switch-hitter (uggggggh), hermaphrodite?!? and androgynous. I like the last word, but it’s not a synonym for bisexual. Someone was complaining about there not being another word so you have to say ‘sexual’ in the label. Uh, no. I call myself bi. Many bis I know do it as well. Bis looks weird to me, but bi is fine.

I’ve made my peace with bi. It’s fine, though I would prefer just to say sexual. But, again, it sends the wrong message. Sigh. It is what it is, and it’s fine.

Taiwanese American? Also fine. I am American with Taiwanese heritage. That’s pretty straightforward, and it doesn’t really need much explanation. It’s also the one I think the least about now. It gave me a lot of drama/trauma when I was younger, but I’m mor e than fine with it now.

Areligious? Yeah, I fully embrace that one. I do not know if there is a god, multiple gods, or no gods, and I don’t care. That’s why I choose areligious rather than atheistic. God can do what god is or isn’t going to do if there is a god or isn’t. It doesn’t really affect my life…yeah, I’m not going to get into that because it’s not the point of this post.

I’ve embraced fat, too. It flusters people when I say cheerfully that I’m fat. I know it’s because it’s considered a horrible negative in this society, but it’s another thing that makes me snicker. There’s something truly magical in not giving a shit. I highly suggest it to everyone.


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Let’s talk more about labeling (part four)

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I was talking to K today, and we were talking about gender identity. It’s something we’ve talked about quite a bit, and we’ve been on the same page about the concept for our whole lives. She once said to me that she admired the way I easily adapted to people’s genders. We talked a bit about that, and I said it was because gender was unfathomable to me (just like it’s hard to describe the color blue to a blind person), so I accepted people’s genders without a murmur.

When you drilled right down to it, why did gender matter? Not in a sociopolitical sense because it matters a great deal in that way (and as a way to show solidarity/fight the patriarchy), and, yes, I can see why it’s important to individuals as part of their identity, but as a way of gatekeeping who can call themselves what gender, I am not a big fan of it. At all.

I have  thought about this so much, it makes me tired. If I were going to be totally real–oh, here’s my post from yesterday in which I said I was going to talk about labels and dating, but then didn’t. If I were going to be totally real, I would just like to never have to think or talk about gender again. Just let me beeeeeeeeeee. There’s nothing I can or can’t do based on my gender, really, so why should I care?

This is where I get tripped up every time. I can do what I need to do regardless of my gender, so why do I need to have one? No one can explain this to me to my satisfaction, which is how I feel about a lot of things. There are times when I just have to accept that I will never truly get it. The only reason I think about it is because it’s so important in this world.

I’m saying this with zero snark–I don’t understand why the heavy emphasis on it. I know it’s me beacuse most people do care about it a lot. I would not care that other people cared so much about it if it was just for themselves. I’m very big on live and let live, but the ‘let live’ part has to go both ways.

Which it doesn’t. At all.

It’s really depressing that all the progress we’ve made is getting torn up in this presidency. I can’t even get angry because I’m just so drained and exhausted. I know that’s the whole point of this spate of terrible laws, but it’s working. And this is one reason I will never date a Republican.

See how I did that?

I had that in a dating ad thirty years ago. I said I would date any gender, race, religion, creed, but not a Republican. I wasn’t joking, even though I put it in a jovial tone. I’m even more not joking about it now. If someone is a Republican in this time and age, that’s all I need to know about them.

As I’ve said, it’s funny when people who don’t give a shit about discrimination in general (or covertly/overtly support it) want to bleat about discrimination in dating when it’s against them. People are allowed to discriminate in their dating lives, and it’s especially true when the discrimination is based on something like ‘this person doesn’t believe I should exist’. Or ‘this person is a racist sexist piece of shit’.


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Labels, labels, labels everywhere (part three)

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I want to talk more about gender identity, sexual orientation, and dating. And labels. Maybe. It’s been at the forefront of my mind for several reasons. I mentioned in the last post a few times when it was helpful to have labels (mostly with health issues), and I am not going to muse whether or not it’s helpful in dating.

I will say I don’t like the labels I’ve chosen for my sexual and gender identities. They are both the least worst of the bad, and I’m not satisfied with either. Bisexual and agender, by the way. I’ve had the former label for over thirty years, and it has never sat right with me. I like queer the best, but it now is synonymous with gay. I’m not happy about it, but it’s not a fight I’m up for fighting.

Same with genderqueer. I really like it as a descriptor for not being on the binary in the fullest sense of the term. But now it means nonbinary in the same way queer means gay.

Sigh.

I’m irritated with myself for always making life so difficult. This is part of being neurodivergent, too, though. I’ve read that people who are neurodivergent often feel the need to be really explicit and on point with their words. I can attest that this is me, and it’s annoying as fuck. Even to me when it’s me doing it.

I overexplain things and belabor the point until the other person is ready to scream. I can see the shift on their face (or hear it in their message), and yet, it takes a Herculean effort for me to shut the fuck up. The person I’m talking to doesn’t need a twenty-page backstory to every idea I want to present. When I found out this was a thing with autistic people, I felt validated.

Another thing is that everything is related in my brain. I can’t tell a story without bringing in what others would consider extraneous information and tidbits. When I talked to my autistic friend about it, she was in enthusiastic agreement that her brain worked that way, too. It’s one reason we can have comfortable conversations (in messages). We can pepper in as many non sequiturs as we want without worrying. And if one of us goes really far down a weird road, the other will bring the first person back again.

Or not. Sometimes, I join her on the side path to nowhere (and vice-versa), which can lead to some wild journeys. And once in a great while, I don’t know where she’s going. I can usually figure it out, but if I can’t, I just ask questions until I get the gist of what she was trying to say.

Knowing that this is a thing for neurodivergent people is such a relief to me. It doesn’t mean that I just let myself ramble all I want whenever I want, but it does mean that I can be a bit kinder to myself when I can’t seem to stop utter nonsense from coming out of my mouth.


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When labels are actually useful, part two

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This is part two about when labels are actually helpful and necessary. Here is my post from yesterday in which I was musing about the times when a label actually helped rather than hurt (or just annoyed me). In general, it’s in the medical field when I find useful. If there’s something wrong  with my body or my brain, it’s a relief to know what that is. It’s easier to treat something if you actually know what that something is (and you don’t think it’s all in the patient’s mind).

It’s also helpful when it’s something like autism that marks me as different (though not ‘defective’ as health issues might). I cannot tell you the relief I felt when I realized that much of what I thought was wrong with my brain was in fact something medical (as autism is). It didn’t mean that I wouldn’t have to deal with it (because of course I would still have to do that), but it meant that it was something that was just different–not necessarily wrong.

I think if there’s one thing I could convey to other people who are different for various reasons that have nothing to do with good and bad as defined by Christians, you are glorious the way you are. That’s not to say that you won’t have to mask at times or that you’ll never have to smooth your edges to get along with society, but it is saying that much of that is arbitrary and there may never be a legit reason for it.

One thing I think people who are neurodivergent often have to do is  calculate how much of the weirdness they want to let out and at wwhat cost. This is especially true at work, which, by the way. I have a gripe (because of course I do).

There’s been a movement to bring your whole/authentic self to work. It was supposed to mean that people who were minorities and (including neurodivergent) should be able to be more themselves at work. Meaning that they should not have to heavily mask all the time. Or, as a very basic example, black women should be able to wear hairstyles that are a part of their culture without getting punished for it.

It was not nor has it ever been a way to say that everyone should let it all hang out at work. I am so frustrated that this is what people now think it means. “No one wants to see someone’s ugly side at work!” Well, no, but that’s never what it meant in the first place. It was supposed to be a way for minorities to feel less burdened at work for being so different than the norm.

I know that’s how these things work on the internet, though. The least-generous interpretation of a term (read, the one that the majority fixates on) is the one that eventually wins out and becomes the definition of that term.

Sigh.

Anyway.

I realize it’s still difficult for me to really let my guard down with people because I have had negative reactions to the real me more often than not. I’m not just a little different–I’m a lot different.


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When labels are actually useful

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I’ve made it pretty well known that I do not like labels for the most part. I find them restrictive, reductive, and sometimes, misleading. However, there is one time when I find labels useful. That’s when it comes to health, physical and mental. Let me explain.

When I was in my twenties, I had what I thought was really bad carpal tunnel syndrome in my right wrist. It was logical to think that was what it was because I typed a lot (and I mean excessively), and I didn’t always pracice good typing posture (and by that, I mean I never use good typing posture. I let my wrists collapse more often than I should. I did have a wrist rest, but I relied on it too much).

I had a soft cast for months, but it did not help. Nothing else helped, etiher. None of the exercises that the doctors recommended did one bit of good. After my GP could not find what was wrong with me, she sent me to a specialist. I don’t remember what kind of specialist, but I do remember what happened.  He listened to my tale of woe without saying anything. Without a word, he grabbed my thumb and yanked it backwards; I jumped about ten feet into the air.

“You don’t have carpal tunnel,” he announced as he wrote something down. “You have ______.” I don’t remember the name of it beacuse it was long, and I had never heard of it before. I don’t remember what he did for it, either, but whatever it was did the trick. I no longer had pain in my wrist, and I still don’t to this day.

Another time was when whichever doctor/therapist told me I had depression. or did I realize it on my own? Either way, being able to have a name for what I was feeling was such a relief. It wasn’t just all in my head! I mean, it was, but it was an actual thing–not me just making shit up.

Same with a friend gently suggesting that maybe I had autism. Suddenly, so many things made sense. Like me being too sensitive, me having sensory issues, me not being able to look people in the eyes. For me, putting a name to a bunch of disparate issues and being able to realize they were actually A Thing and, again, not just something I made up in my head was invaluable.

K and I had an argument about mental health. Not about the fact that it matters or the fact that we both have issues with our own mental health. It was about how far should we as a society go when it comes to mental health issues. She was uncomfortable with how much medication was happening these days.

She said that when we were kids, we just dealt with our issues because we had to. I pointed out in a less-than-calm manner that some of us didn’t deal with it well–and, indeed, that somepeople did not deal with it at all (meaning, we have lost so many people to mental health issues). I also said that if I had known more about my issues when I was a kid and how to deal with them, I would be in a better place now.

We got heated. Voices were raised. It’s the closest we’ve gotten to a fight in our thirty years of friendship. Once we calmed down, we found the common ground as we always do.

Her concern was that people with mental health issues still had to get through each day and go about their lives. If they focused too much on the mental health issues themselves, they might get stuck. I saw her point. There’s a thin line between focusing on your issues in order to work on them and obsessing over them.

On the other hand, if you don’t know what the problem is, you can’t deal with it. I lost decades because I didn’t know I was neurodivergent. I mean, I had a hunch, but all the outside signs ponited to it not being true. Because I was heavily emotionally punished if I dared think my own feelings and emotions mattered, and I was castigated for being too sensitive, I don’t act autistic–whatever that means.

In addition, the stereotypical view of an autistic person is based on male traits, and I never thought that there might be any other portrayal of autism. Once I was told to look traits of autistic women and other nonmale people, things started falling into place.

Just as I changed my bother’s life by casually mentioning his autism (assuming that he already knew about it), a friend of mine did the same for me. My brother immediately accpted what I said to him, looked it up, and told me a few months later that it made total sense. He has the classic (and stereotypical) traits of autism–and I’ve known it for several decades.

Me, on the other hand, I have none of the stereotypical traits–at least on the surface. I am told I’m too empathic, if anything; too sensitive; too emotional; and just too much in general.

All of that is a cover and learned behavior, though. Well, not the too sensitive thing. That’s just me, but that’s actually a symptom of autism–hypersensitivity, I mean. I just read that 90% of children with autism experience sensory hypersensitivity. Most of the research on autism has been done on kids, which is unfortunate. And on men. But that’s not unusual in, well, anything.

Once my friend brought up the possibility that I might be autistic, so many things made sense. So. Many. Damn. Things. And once things slid into place, I became so goddamn angry at society for not giving me a fucking clue that I might be autistic. The problem is that I’ve been masking so hard and for so long, it’s nearly impossible for me to unmask. It’s one reason I prefer being alone. That’s the only time I can just be me.

Well, one of the only times. When I’m with my closest friends, I can let down the mask somewhat. But that’s it. Otherwise, it’s on 100% of the time. And part of that is, apparently, people tell me shit about their lives that I would prefer not to know. I have one of those faces that say, “Tell me everything about you, starting with when you were five years old.”

Even when I tried to cut people off, it didn’t seem to matter. Now, I just roll with it since I don’t go out much any more.

More tomorrow.

FromSoft again? You bet! Part eight

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I have one more post in me about FromSoft. Let’s be real. I could write about them endlessly, but for now, I’ll stick to one post at a time. In the last post, I talked about why Patches is a better representation of the From games than is Solaire. Oooooh yes. I know that’s so controversial of me to say, but it’s how I feel deep in my heart.

Ian and I have discussed plenty of times whether Miyazaki loves his fans or hates them. I’ve said this before, but here are the arguments for both sides.

Miyazaki hates his fans: His worlds are so bleak and actively out to get the player. It’s pure misery everywhere you go, and everyone is hurting in one way or the other. Hell, one of the main points of the first game is that if you go Hollow, you’ll lose your reason to live. That’s when you lose your mind and it’s just a mercy to kill you. There are more than one NPC in the first game that you can mercy kill after they lose their minds (Griggs of Vinheim, Big Hat Logan, Oscar of Astoria, Crestfallen Warrior, Reah of Thorolund, Laurentius of the Great Swamp, to name more than a few. And, of course, the big man himself, Solaire).

That’s just off the top of my head–there might be more. I don’t do them all every time, but I have done them all at least once. Hm. That might actually be my next playthrough–doing all the NPC mercy killings.

By the way, many people like to kill all the NPCs at the end of the playthrough and before NG+ to get the items that they drop. I’ve done that, but I felt really bad about it. I don’t do it any longer.

It’s amazing to me how I can remember every corner of the game–at least in the first half. I did those runs so often, I can do them in my sleep. I will admit that I’m not quite as good at the second half of the game, but I know the general layout and most of the enemies. You kind have to when you die a million times on the way to the boss.

It’s also wild to me that I’ve played this game at least two dozen times, and I still find new things/hear new things about it. I’m sure that there are no secrets left to be found, but that doesn’t mean I’ve heard/seen it all.

One of the best things about playing a From game real time is the sense of community that happens when everyone is looking for secrets and commiserating about how hard certain bosses/areas are. This has happened since Demon’s Souls, and it’s one thing that makes the games incomparable. People are divided as to whether Miyazaki meant it to be that way or not, but my god, it has paid off in spades.


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