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Key points
- Things that are familiar can make people on the autism spectrum feel safe.
- Relationships are confusing for those who struggle to read social cues.
- Seeing other people expressing confusion can bring relief and joy to those on the spectrum.
“People on dates shouldn’t even be allowed out in public.” —Jerry Seinfeld
For years I used to go to sleep with Seinfeld playing on repeat in the background. I used to know the characters, the storylines, and the plot twists like they were my own lived experience. They were so objectionable, so blunt with each other, and so full of themselves, but they were also so funny, so human, and so completely and magically imperfect.
I overlooked the imperfections and loved that series and those people in all their flawed brilliance. It was so familiar, so comfortable, so safe to me and I appreciated it for being a sanctuary during a difficult period in my life. Now looking back, I understand why Seinfeld resonated with me and why I watched it on repeat for years.
I now know that it is because of my neurodiversity. I would laugh so much at what they said even after seeing the same scenes many times. I would feel such a sense of understanding with the comedic and farcical conversations and scenarios the show presented. Even as I write this I begin to giggle thinking about the first episode where Jerry and George are talking about signals and knowing when someone is interested in you. George shouting at Jerry, “It’s signals Jerry, signals!” The completely blank look on Seinfeld’s face is just priceless. Because I am like Jerry, I have no clue about signals, and seeing that in another person was both comforting and hilarious.
If someone fancies me, it must be spelled out to me. It must be made explicit, as subtly and ambiguity are confusing in my world. I pretty much have no clue about the differences between flirting, being friendly, and somebody being in love with me. I am often oblivious to these signals and suggestions.
My children’s father was not subtle about liking me: He took control and made his intentions and his feelings for me very clear from very early on, and that was refreshing, empowering, and exciting to me. He communicated clearly what he felt, and this allowed things to move and progress. If all interactions were like this my life would be so much easier—cut to the chase, tell me what you think, and then we can all get on with our lives. (Another female autistic blogger wrote about this issue too, and her blog post resonated deeply with me.)
I also have no idea how anyone can “read a room.” I am laughing again as I type this, because I have no clue how anyone is supposed to be able to read the room without it being obvious what is happening. I laugh because that is often how I cope and how I manage the stress connected with being me and missing these cues and norms, which, to be honest, I still can’t fully understand or get my head around. I believe these things exist because people have told me about them, and I can often pick up on discomfort in other ways, but not in the ways most people seem to—which I gather is communicated in subtle social cues.
I can read patterns of behaviour and I can see when people are inconsistent and their words and actions don’t match up. I spot those who are lacking integrity with ease. But awkward social situations can often go over my head. If I thought about these situations too much and took them seriously, my blood pressure would rocket and I would disengage from all social interactions. And believe me, I am constantly thinking of ways that I might be able to do the latter. To socially engage with other members of your species, who generally feel alien to you, actually requires a lot of courage and strength.
George: You’ve got to apologize.
Jerry: Why?
George: Because it’s the mature and adult thing to do.
Jerry: How does that affect me?
Looking back at those years when I used to watch Seinfeld on repeat, I believe it was a coping mechanism. When I was doing that, I was undiagnosed but often continuously burnt out and really confused as to why I struggled to do things others found easy—like being a wife, a mother, a cook, etc. I spent a lot of my working life burnt out and then when children came on the scene, the burnout increased drastically. With next to no family support or help, it was a loop of exhaustion and ill health (which thankfully has long gone).
I had sensory issues and lived in a built-up area, so the constant inane and non-threatening chat of Seinfeld blocked out all the other sounds that penetrated my space and my psyche and which could cause distress. The content of those episodes was light and comedic, which meant there was no violence and nothing really terrifying ever took place. It was familiar and made me feel safe, and in my world, safety is the ultimate—safety is peace, and peace is how I feel when I am loved, respected, and valued. Peace is my foundation and my core and who I truly am.
The television characters played by Seinfeld and Larry David (co-creator of Seinfeld) are both known for behaving in socially inappropriate ways, which is incredibly relatable for an undiagnosed ASD person. All those years ago, I didn't fully understand why I did what I did, but I just went with it. I just did what felt right, and I found ways to cope that worked for me and my life.
I no longer watch Seinfeld every night as I am trying to get to sleep. I wear earplugs but I no longer require the additional auditory buffer between my space and the outside world, and I am thankful that I am no longer in that house or that confusing and alienating mental space. I now live in the countryside and know that I am autistic. Both are good for my mental health. I am grateful for people like Seinfeld and their comedy gold. I am so grateful for the ease with which he awkwardly stepped into the world and for every social gaffe and relationship mishap he shared with the world, because he gave me hope. It gave me relief as it made me laugh. I can’t read subtle signals, but I can understand clear ones, and that is what I require in relationships.
Jerry and friends taught me that even when you are odd, you can still find your people and you can still laugh about the ridiculousness of life. And I think most of us could relate to George from time to time, but no matter what, he kept on going, he kept trying, he didn't give up. Now there is a signal I can read.
Why did it all turn out like this for me? I had so much promise. I was personable, I was bright. Oh, maybe not academically speaking, but... I was perceptive. I always know when someone's uncomfortable at a party. It became very clear to me sitting out there today, that every decision I've ever made in my entire life has been wrong. My life is the opposite of everything I want it to be. Every instinct I have, in every aspect of life, be it something to wear, something to eat… it's all been wrong.” —George Costanza
