Terms and Conditions.

When meeting new people, I feel like maybe I should start handing them pamphlets with my current terms and conditions; the disclaimers that basically warn them of what they're getting themselves into.

I don't want to be your girlfriend, wife, wifey, baby mama, girl FRIEND, GIRL friend... I don't want to be your boo, bae, baby, honey, sweetie... I'm fine on my own thankyouverymuch. I've got me. I've got all my needs covered. It's the "wants" that are the itch that need scratching.

I don't have time for you after my kids and then myself. I don't have time for phone calls, dinner dates, dinner parties, meeting your mama. It's not that I can't make time, I don't WANT to make time because then it interrupts with what little time I have to tend to my own needs. And plus? I've always been terrible at being a girl and doing things "girls like to do." Talking on the phone? Is numero uno on my list of shit I just can't do. I will stare at my phone as it rings. Try me. Voicemail is full because my Pappaw's voicemails take priority and will never be deleted unless he has a new one to leave me. So yeah, good luck with that.

My cup runneth over with needs and I'm here to draw that old familiar line in the sand stating that this is where my boundaries begin and my ability to meet your needs ends. Bye. It was fun.

I feel like no matter how large the megaphone or how big my big girl panties are, I still am not being heard when I scream, "My last relationship ended due to x, y and z. If you cannot handle x, y and z you need to move along!" Instead they hear, "Please catch feelings and think you can change my thoughts on what I want for myself." I can't talk on the phone, not because of who you are but because of this damn line in the sand. There's no negotiating or meeting in the middle. There's no compromise on this. What little time I have to myself does not include forcing words out of my mouth hole to make you feel better about your ability to compromise my time. If you can't handle the small talk and my inability to nurture a relationship I did not sign up for in the first place, then as I said, move along. I'm not the one for you if that's what you need for your cup to be filled.

It's right there, page 8 section 2 line 5, "My time outside of work consists of caring for my three children and their individual needs, tending to my mental/physical well being, lather, rinse, repeat. I'm available every other Saturday evening barring any children remain home from their visitation with their father." I mean, I didn't stutter. It's right there; black and white. I even had it printed in large print for those of us with vision issues.

If you've read this far and it hit home, please please PLEASE don't think that I'm saying any of this to be cruel. I'm not. As a matter of fact, I say it TO drive the point home. My boundaries and my ability to tell people "no?" Those are NOT suggestions nor are they flexible. I warned all parties involved to not fall in love with me. Don't do it. I'm not the one you're bringing home to mama nor am I your next wife. But I feel it. I feel the vibe changing from HMU and DTF to, "that's what I **love** about you, you're so positive and honest." No no no. No sir/madame. I'm here for a good time, not a long time. YOLO or some shit like that. My 5 year plan involves a metric ton of self evaluation and putting the work in to be my best self and LOVE the person I become. It doesn't involve a third party. I'm no good for you, you or even you down there in front with the cowlick and freckles. I knew how unfair it was to my most recent ex to silence him out of my life as I began working on myself. I knew he deserved better and I realized I didn't want or need him during this time in my life. Our time together had played out and served its purpose. Anything longer than what it was would have been kicking a dead horse. THAT. WAS/IS. NOT. FAIR. TO. HIM. Equally, it most definitely wouldn't be fair to you. I have ZERO attraction to anyone in a long term, love you forever kind of way right now. I can't even pretend to want that, and if I'm pretending? Then I'm lying to both of us.

As stated on page 3 section 4 line 1, "I need friends." That's it. Just... friends. Friends who understand that they're not going to hear from me for two weeks at a time. Friends who understand that I don't make plans because who knows if I'm even going to want to do "option A" or "option B" eight days down the road.

Please don't make me hurt your feelings. Please request a copy of of the Terms and Conditions and accept my disclaimers and fine print as the user manual to this current updated version of me. 

No surprises here.

Seeing the words pop up at me across the email, I should feel something. Someone else might feel surprised, or angry even. Someone else might feel relief. But I feel... indifferent?

It’s something I’ve always known about myself. I’ve always known myself to have sensory issues across the spectrum of all the senses.

I’ve never liked the feeling of anything beneath my bare feet; not grass, carpet, cool tile... nothing. You’ll never find me barefoot, instead I’ll be the one rocking flipflops year round and never just socks either. Socks are only to be worn with shoes.

I don’t wear clothes with tags, the worst are tags on the side seats that tickle my waistline. Instead of a tickle, it feels like ants biting or needles. I don’t like the restriction of tucked in shorts or belts. The material itself can’t be too heavy or hot, I’d rather pile on layers to work myself out of them and become obsessed of the fabric is TOO light creating a situation in where I can’t warm myself appropriately.

I take serious issue with bands covering songs in which I expect to hear a song one way, but the cover is completely different or doesn’t give me the same emotional response the original song did. Musicals, choirs and flash mob choruses are the things of NIGHTMARES.

Flares from car windows or off other similar surfaces send me into a panic as I’m blinded by them and migraines give me similar symptoms that leave me paralyzed wondering if I’m beginning a migraine. Worse yet if I’m driving and ill prepared for  the amount of sun. One of my earliest memories is of being outside in the direct sun. Once while following the footsteps and shadow of my grandfather through his garden and another time in elementary school when we went outside to recess and the sun reflected off every corner of the playground. ((These were times when the slides were made of industrial metals and screamed “survival of the fittest” with their knobby rivets and jagged corners... ah, the 80’s at its finest.))

Facial expressions are overwhelming and typically pull out completely inappropriate responses from me. I’m the one who laughs during your pain or stands there steely faced when placed in an overly joyous or other such emotional situation. I don’t cry, not from joy or sadness unless my anxiety places me in an endless loop of a desperate thought cycle. Only once I’ve completely dehydrated myself will the crying commence, and then it is touch and go for hours if not days following.

If you want to have a completely functional conversation with me, write me. Text, email, direct messages... but never call or approach me with urgent questions. I need time to process and weigh all sides of the problem. Unless I’m approached with conversation about something I’m deeply passionate about (i.e. my kids, travels, books I’ve read, etc.) I’m not likely to have deep conversations.

I’ve always been insatiable when it comes to pleasure. Whether it’s chasing the high of the first cigarette in the morning, the excitement of that first kiss/orgasm, the buzz from the first drink... it’s a slippery slope. I quit drinking entirely when I got pregnant with my oldest. I want to quit smoking, but my brain cannot handle the withdrawal. And I’m in love with the IDEA of love. I thought I was in love with my husband, but now I question everything (and try not to question as that turns into an endless thought cycle that makes me overly emotional and omg just re-read my issues with crying.)

So after many years of knowing what my parents have denied and pleaded their own cases against, watching my youngest struggle in scary familiar ways and social media making me question myself... I did the tests. The same tests my therapist would do in his office but I cannot afford to save up to take so I took them on my own and had them analyzed to be sure I was reading things correctly. The same tests little and middle were subjected to but on an adult scale.

I am autistic.