More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
I explained the physiology of tastebud chilling in some detail. I predicted that if I purchased a mango and a peach ice-cream she would be incapable of differentiating. And, by extension, either would be equivalent to apricot. ‘They’re completely different,’ she said. ‘If you can’t tell mango from peach, that’s your problem.’ Now we had a simple objective disagreement that could readily be resolved experimentally. I ordered a minimum-size ice-cream in each of the two flavours. But by the time the serving person had prepared them, and I turned to ask Elizabeth to close her eyes for the
...more
Naturally, the books and research papers described the symptoms of Asperger’s syndrome, and I formed a provisional conclusion that most of these were simply variations in human brain function that had been inappropriately medicalised because they did not fit social norms – constructed social norms – that reflected the most common human configurations rather than the full range.
It seems hardly possible to analyse such a complex situation involving deceit and supposition of another person’s emotional response, and then prepare your own plausible lie, all while someone is waiting for you to reply to a question. Yet that is exactly what people expect you to be able to do.
A woman at the rear of the room raised her hand. I was focused on the argument now, and made a minor social error, which I quickly corrected. ‘The fat woman – overweight woman – at the back?’
I was able to avoid small talk by playing a memory game with Eugenie. She noticed my folder marked ‘Wife Project’, which I put on the table as soon as I finished dessert. ‘Are you getting married, Don?’ she asked. ‘Correct.’ ‘Who to?’ I was about to explain, but Claudia sent Eugenie and Carl to their rooms – a good decision, as they did not have the expertise to contribute.
Perhaps we would have gone on a third and fourth and fifth date, then one day, when all of the desserts at the restaurant contained egg, we would have crossed the road to the ice-cream parlour, and discovered they had no egg-free pistachio. It was better to find out before we made an investment in the relationship.
I pointed out that I was collecting data to support life’s most critical decision. Compromise would be totally inappropriate. ‘You always have to compromise,’ Gene said. An incredible statement and totally untrue in his case.
‘I suspect Rosie may follow in her mother’s footsteps,’ he said. ‘In what component of her life?’ It seemed safer to seek clarification than assume that he meant getting pregnant to an unknown fellow student or dying. These were the only facts I knew about Rosie’s mother.
Riding home, I was aware of a tightness in my chest and realised it was a physical response to the Dean’s advice. I knew that, if I could not ‘fit in’ in a science department of a university, I could not fit in anywhere.
‘You stole her toothbrush!’ ‘There was a spare in the cupboard. It was time for a new one.’ I was shocked at the theft, but we would now almost certainly have a usable sample of DNA. It was difficult not to be impressed by Rosie’s resourcefulness. And if Natalie was not replacing her toothbrush at regular intervals Rosie had done her a favour.
Why do we focus on certain things at the expense of others? We will risk our lives to save a person from drowning, yet not make a donation that could save dozens of children from starvation. We install solar panels when their impact on CO2 emissions is minimal – and indeed may have a net negative effect if manufacturing and installation are taken into account – rather than contributing to more efficient infrastructure projects.
This seemed to be the most likely explanation for my continued interest in the Father Project. Rationally, there were more important uses for my research capabilities, but instinctively I was driven to assist Rosie with her more immediate problem.
Research consistently shows that the risks to health outweigh the benefits of drinking alcohol. My argument is that the benefits to my mental health justify the risks. Alcohol seems to both calm me down and elevate my mood, a paradoxical but pleasant combination. And it reduces my discomfort in social situations.
a high level of anxiety related to Bianca. Throughout my life I have been criticised for a perceived lack of emotion, as if this were some absolute fault. Interactions with psychiatrists and psychologists – even including Claudia – start from the premise that I should be more ‘in touch’ with my emotions. What they really mean is that I should give in to them. I am perfectly happy to detect, recognise and analyse emotions. This is a useful skill and I would like to be better at it. Occasionally an emotion can be enjoyed – the gratitude I felt for my sister who visited me even during the bad
...more
People began laughing. I am an expert at being laughed at and, as Bianca pulled away from me, I scanned the audience to see who was not laughing, an excellent means of identifying friends. Gene and Rosie and, surprisingly, the Dean and her partner were my friends tonight. Stefan was definitely not.
‘Don, can I ask you something?’ ‘One question.’ ‘Do you find me attractive?’ Gene told me the next day that I got it wrong. But he was not in a taxi, after an evening of total sensory overload, with the most beautiful woman in the world. I believed I did well. I detected the trick question. I wanted Rosie to like me, and I remembered her passionate statement about men treating women as objects. She was testing to see if I saw her as an object or as a person. Obviously the correct answer was the latter. ‘I haven’t really noticed,’ I told the most beautiful woman in the world.
Research has shown that creativity is enhanced when performing straightforward mechanical tasks such as jogging, cooking and driving. Unobstructed thinking time is always useful.
‘Overview, overview. Sunday to Wednesday. One sentence per day. Leave out eating, sleeping and travel.’ That made it easy. ‘Sunday, Museum of Natural History; Monday, Museum of Natural History; Tuesday, Museum of Natural History; Wednesday –’
‘You know what I like about New York?’ he said. ‘There are so many weird people that nobody takes any notice. We all just fit right in.’
We were in the final stages of our descent into LAX. I turned to Rosie. It had been several hours since she asked her question, and I had now given it considerable thought. How was I feeling? ‘Confused,’ I said to her. I expected her to have forgotten the question, but perhaps the answer made sense in any case. ‘Welcome to the real world.’
Claudia nodded. But she did not look entirely happy. I was paying great attention to expressions of emotion and I had diagnosed hers correctly. ‘Don. I’m impressed, but … changing to meet someone else’s expectations may not be a good idea. You may end up resenting it.’ I didn’t think this was likely. I was learning some new protocols, that was all. ‘If you really love someone,’ Claudia continued, ‘you have to be prepared to accept them as they are. Maybe you hope that one day they get a wake-up call and make the changes for their own reasons.’
Gene had once told me a religious joke when I questioned the morality of his behaviour. Jesus addresses the angry mob who are stoning a prostitute: ‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.’ A stone flies through the air and hits the woman. Jesus turns around and says, ‘Sometimes you really piss me off, Mother.’ I could no longer be equated with the Virgin Mary. I had been corrupted. I was like everyone else. My stone-casting credibility had been significantly compromised.
As his buddy, it was my duty to behave as an adult male and give it to him straight.
‘Obviously these achievements were insufficient,’ I said. ‘Perhaps Rosie requires something in addition to personal excellence.’ In a moment of clarity, I realised what that something might be in my own case. Was all my work in self-improvement in vain? Was I going to end up like Phil, trying to win Rosie’s love but regarded with contempt?
All of my friends (except Dave the Baseball Fan) were fighting.
The new shoes were workable, but the coat and tie were uncomfortable even on a cold night. I pulled off the jacket, the item that had made me temporarily acceptable in a world to which I did not belong, and threw it in a rubbish bin. The tie followed. On an impulse I retrieved the daphne from the jacket and carried it in my hand for the remainder of the journey.
I had feared that Rosie would not love me. Instead, it was I who could not love Rosie.
I had a great deal of valuable knowledge – about genetics, computers, aikido, karate, hardware, chess, wine, cocktails, dancing, sexual positions, social protocols and the probability of a fifty-six-game hitting streak occurring in the history of baseball. I knew so much shit and I still couldn’t fix myself.
