A dinner party, Aspie style
Last weekend, my wife and I hosted a dinner party for six. This is an unusual event in our household, but we had been to evenings at the other couples houses recently, so it was our turn to entertain.
With my new-found hyper-awareness of how my Asperger’s affects me, I wondered how the evening would go, and how my AS would colour things. As it happens, it went well.
Before the day itself, my wife and I split up the jobs. She was to sort out the nibbles and the dessert, and I was to cook the main course. We decided that as we don’t have much practice of juggling cooking and entertaining at the same time, that we’d stick to a pre-prepared dessert, and a main course that we cook regularly – a good old fashioned British roast dinner.
On the morning of the event, I did my first Aspie trick – I made a list. It was a timeline from mid-afternoon of when everything needed to be prepared, go in/out of the oven, and when we’d fit in feeding the kids and bathing them etc as well. With my list done, I was confident I knew the schedule. If I hadn’t taken the time to make it, then nothing would have been ready in time. As it turned out, the list worked wonderfully.
When our guests arrived, the kids were safely asleep in bed, my wife had finished assembling the nibbles, and I was hard at work cooking. My wife did the pre-dinner entertaining whilst I got all the final bits of the main course ready. This worked well. I was focussed, the food got delivered on schedule, and everyone enjoyed it. Great.
What I perhaps wasn’t expecting was just how little I would have to contribute after the meal was done. In usual dinner party style we adjourned to the lounge for coffee and chocolates and grown up chatter. But I had nothing left to give. Once more, I was the quiet one in the corner that wasn’t joining in with the conversation very much.
You may be surprised to hear that I wasn’t expecting this. I’m usually quite chatty at dinner parties, especially once alcohol has kicked in a bit. As someone who doesn’t discuss things verbally with people all that often or indeed all that articulately, rare occurrences like dinner parties at other people’s houses tend to provide something of an outlet for me. Alcohol helps.
But not that night. The intense focus on the list of things that needed doing, and the effort involved in preparing everything had wiped me out. I wanted so much for everyone to be impressed with the food that I had put every last ounce of effort into it, and left nothing for the social side of the evening.
This is another of my traits that I put down to my AS. Whenever I concentrate intently on something for any length of time I end up feeling tired and withdrawn. It’s a similar feeling to the one I get when I’ve experienced sensory overload. I feel vacant, and almost as though I’m looking at a video of the world around me rather than real life – like I’m detached from reality in some way. I get the feeling even after short periods of concentration – I’ll get it after publishing this article, for instance.
At least, with only six of us there, there wasn’t a great deal of time spent with people talking over each other. This meant that whilst I may not have been saying much, I was at least able to follow and enjoy the conversations. I think six people is about the right number for me for an evening like this. Any more and regardless of whether I’m the host or not, I’ll start to loose track of conversations, and the general background noise will start to annoy me and eventually overload me.
Did anyone notice my lack of input? I’m not sure, but it probably doesn’t matter. Everyone – me included – had a good time, and that is more important.
It’s interesting that we chose a roast dinner for the main course as we thought that would be an easy option. I think that the next time we entertain in this way, I’ll try and come up with a main course that can have at least some elements prepared ahead of time.
That way I might have a little something left to give in the second half of the evening.
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8 Responses to “A dinner party, Aspie style”
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Rachel on May 15th, 2009 Rachel(Quote)
Congratulations! I’m so glad that you prepared yourself for the evening, and that the list worked so well.
I can identify with the having nothing left part. And it’s okay to be quiet. Most people LOVE being listened to and don’t mind a bit if you’re quiet. It gives them more room to talk!
I’ve also found lately that when I’m out in the world, and feeling self-conscious about being quiet, people say unexpected things like, “Wow, you have such a peaceful presence, it’s so nice to be around you.” It’s a good reminder that in such a noisy world, people are reassured by someone who can be quiet. I’m beginning to see it as my secret Aspie strength.
Of course, I’m mostly quiet when I’m out and about. At home and online, I switch modes and I can be *very* talkative.
James on May 17th, 2009 James(Quote)
You’re right – I guess it’s all about realising that being different isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
I’ve grown up in an NT word, and until very recently have strived to be like everyone else. Thinking that my differences are ok and acceptable is quite counter-intuitive to me. I’m getting there though!
Soph on May 16th, 2009 Soph(Quote)
I’m very quiet sometimes and talkative at other times. It’s some issue with my auditory processing, I think.
During quiet times I get very frustrated because people talk over me and don’t give me a chance to state my case. I think it’s because I’m so busy processing what they’re saying, I don’t have the chance to build a response.
But, people say I’m a great listener. Which is pretty cool.
I think sometimes I talk too much because I’m trying to rush the words out before the other person takes control of the conversation and relegates me to listener status again.
Rachel on May 17th, 2009 Rachel(Quote)
For newly diagnosed adult Aspies, it’s a real struggle to de-brief from trying to be like everyone else. I feel it all the time. I’m accepting my differences, but old habits die hard.
Writing a blog is very helpful to me, as it helps me to describe what’s going on inside in a way that I (and other people) can understand from the outside. Somehow, it makes me more visible to myself, without all the camouflage I’m so used to carrying around. Looks like blogging helps you with the process as well!
cynsurf on September 24th, 2009 cynsurf(Quote)
This might not be the right post to make this comment – but I am curious about the conversational style of an Aspie. I have a friend whom I suspect has AS but doesn’t know it. We were preparing for an event putting out tables etc and talking. I noticed he had a hard time doing both. When I asked him a question he would stop what he was doing to answer me. When I said something unexpected he actually froze in place and didn’t move at all trying to process what I said. It wasn’t a particularly shocking thing I said – just probably not what he expected. I have noticed that he has done that in the past as well. Is this because he doesn’t know what to say or that he is trying to comprehend? I guess that this usually happens when my comment would in anyone else require an emotional response. He is not very emotionally expressive. He says words that might be understood as emotional but with no emotion behind it. I commented to him one time about not expressing emotion and he was defensive. He said “I have emotions!” I told him I didn’t say you didn’t HAVE them you just don’t EXPRESS them. I think being perceived as unemotional would be detrimental in social situations. We have a mutual friend who describes him as not having a pulse. I wonder if you can shed any light on this?
James on September 24th, 2009 James(Quote)
I can try. This, of course is just my own take on things…
I can understand how your friend may not be able to handle conversation alongside anything else at the same time.
I find conversation difficult. It’s not the words, per se, it’s more the speaking of them. Well, actually, it is the words themselves too – depending on context.
I can talk about interests of mine relatively easily, although my speech can seem clunky and full of ums and ahs and stutters. The degree to which it is affected depends on how stressed or frazzled I am feeling.
Writing feels to be a much more natural and calm language to me.
Outside of the sphere of comfort afforded by my own interests, I find conversation to be much more difficult. Small talk is like a foreign language to me much of the time. The other person has to take the lead, and even then, I will often struggle to find a suitable reply. This struggle is to find the right sort of answer. A lot of the time, my answer is a stock one – I don’t have much by the way of social intuition, and expressing how I feel about something is almost impossible.
This search for a suitable answer requires brain power, and thus, to me at least, it is easy to see why your friend may not be able to concentrate on another task during a conversation with you that is outside of his comfort zone. I would be very similar.
A simple social conversation can seem like a job interview. None of the answers are obvious, and thus require real brain power to produce something that seems to fit.
As I’ve said elsewhere, I don’t have a problem feeling emotion or empathy. Indeed I often feel them very strongly. I do however have a great deal of trouble verbally expressing these feelings.
When I start talking, the emotion or the reasons for that emotion suddenly seem extraordinarily complex, and I struggle to find suitable words to match the feelings in my head. I also seem to have an in-built warning siren that tells me that however I describe it, it won’t be fully understood by the person I’m telling.
Perhaps the very reason that I find emotion difficult to express is that inside my head it isn’t represented by words, and I can’t translate the way it is represented into words.
Does that make sense?
cynsurf on September 24th, 2009 cynsurf(Quote)
Much of what you describe about the anxiety about conversation and whether you will be understood could be explained by being shy. Also some of what you say elsewhere in this blog about being overwhelmed in social situations happens to introverts as well. Would you say you are shy and introverted? Can these be separated from the Asperger’s symptoms or is there overlap? You have a sensitivity about saying the wrong thing and being misunderstood. Is this because you have had people react badly when you have said something wrong? I think part of the problem with my friend is that he doesn’t notice when he has said something wrong and someone reacts badly. He just doesn’t notice – even if someone gets upset unless they are really direct about it. So I am sure you must have had some bad experiences to be so sensitive to this.
Thanks for taking the time to read and respond to my comments. It is really helpful. I expect that you will learn great things in counseling that will change your life.
James on September 28th, 2009 James(Quote)
Hi cynsurf,
Yes, I am shy and for the most part introverted, and yes, it is almost intrinsically intertwined with autism.
Indeed, shyness was one of my stock reasonings for why I was the way I was until Asperger’s came along and provided a much better and more encompassing fit for the way I am.
Like your friend, I typically don’t realise at the time when I’ve said the wrong thing to someone, unless they make it very clear in some way. What I do is replay the conversation later, and try to interpret it in a way that makes more sense to me. By doing this, I often realise that I have made some sort of faux pas or other – suddenly the responses used after a particular point in the conversation seem to have perspective that they didn’t at the time.
It is partly this realisation that I am quite likely to say something that isn’t acceptable that leads to me being sensitive about trying to say the right thing. It often makes no difference, however. I typically appear to lack subtlety, sensitivity and empathy. I don’t, of course, I just don’t always see how my words could be construed in this way until I have had time to replay them.
I feel terrible when I inadvertently upset someone due to having said the wrong thing.