I posted some time ago on my affinity for sex as a clear and unambiguous form of communication. I explained, in summary, how I seem so at ease with sex and so clumsy with other interactions. Thank you for your thoughtful feedback. I really love this community.

I guess I did not describe the component of this part of myself with which I particularly struggle. Sex is my autistic fixation. However, I can’t really put it on a t-shirt and strike up a conversation about my hobbies with new acquaintances. I can date someone and emphatically invest in her sexual identity and help her have meaningful experiences. I’ll take the trade-off.

But in other areas of my life this fixation is destructive. I often cannot work because of it. It dominates my thoughts—fantasy, or euphoric recall, or just a primal (as in foundational) need to be with another body. I work as a freelance writer and can spend entire days accomplishing nothing. I’m already vulnerable and my sexual fixation can make me more vulnerable, financially.

I have also loved someone who found me overwhelming. My sex drive was too high. I wanted her too often or too intensely. I have physical characteristics other people have really enjoyed that she didn’t. I felt so deeply rejected, as though someone resented my favourite hobby and part of my identity. I wanted things to work but they couldn’t.

I’ve put myself into programming for sex addiction, and aspects of it have been helpful for building self-control. But I often felt like my situation was somehow different. I suspect that, as an autistic person, sex has always been my fixation. I’ve loved learning about it, studying it, new experiences, putting theory to practice, knowing someone else is benefiting richly from my attention—I love it. I don’t know if it’s a part of me I can or want to “manage.” I don’t know if I’m me without it.

Has anyone else had a similar experience? I’m always aware of my own fallibility and I don’t want to simply project a problematic behaviour onto my autism. But at the same time, I know I’m different sexually as keenly as I know the way I think, interpret, and communicate is different.

Ironically, it’s all quite lonely.