Perspectives on Social Awkwardness
by Abram
It’s been a little over a week since this year’s Adult Conference at Northeastern University, and I am almost fully recovered. Every time I attend an event where the main attraction is a whole bunch of adult Aspies trying desperately to relate to one another, I come home feeling mildly depressed and in need of a stiff drink. What bothers me is the persistent feeling that I’m witnessing my own flaws from the outside; that as pitiable as some of my, er, less socially adept brethren may appear, that’s just how I look to the rest of the NT world.
Every conference features a whole host of Aspies who love to hear themselves speak, but don’t normally have anyone who’ll sit still long enough to hear them. This makes a room full of people who can’t all run away at once look like a marvelous opportunity to share some indispensable knowledge of a topic of great importance, such as one’s own life story. Even when the keynote speaker has stated in very clear terms that he will take questions at the end of the presentation, so please hold off raising your hand until then. And even though the definition of a “question” sort of requires that there be a question mark at the end; a ten-minute anecdote about some incredibly mundane thing that happened to you one time is not a question. I expect to write several more posts devoted exclusively to how irritated I am by people who can’t tell the difference between a pointless personal story and a question or comment that deserves to be shared with the rest of the audience. So, you’ll have that to look forward to.
The reason I find this so irritating is that this, along with most other Aspie habits of characteristic social ineptitude, reminds me how socially inept I am. I love to explain interesting topics, including all the indispensable details, whether or not my audience has expressed the vaguest hint of curiosity. But my dissertations really are interesting. I think. Of course, how would I know? Normal people are much too polite to ever say something as blunt as “Stop talking now, you’re boring the bejeezus out of everyone.” Instead they rely on non-verbal cues, like glancing at their watch or rolling their eyes. If you fail to pick up on these, of course, then it’s going to be a long night. And incidentally, you’re not going to be invited to another party any time soon.
So instead of using Aspie social events to relieve social tension by spending time with others with similar social failings, I find that exactly the opposite is true.
August 10, 2010
Posted in: Events, Life
Tags: endless anecdotes, irritation, social ineptitude
2 Comments
2 Responses
Hi Abram, I must agree with you that some if not most of these “conferences” tend to only cause a greater sense of inadequacy when the discussion is only on the sad “life stories” of the presenters. I would rather hear what people do to help themselves move beyond the constrictions of the neurology. I want to know what other people do to get some success in relationships/work/life/etc.. This would be much more uplifting than constant post-mortem reviews we hear so much and already know about through our own lives as we live the trauma everyday too.
I agree. I see a need to address the social awkwardness issue at a conference which is formatted well for a neurotypical audience. This is a positive criticism- perhaps a step toward including a schedule at these things that gives participants a chance at success where we fail so miserably in other settings.
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