Julie Buxbaum - What to Say Next

A n unprecedented event: Kit Lowell just sat down next to me in the cafeteria. I always sit alone, and when I say always, I dont mean that in the exaggerated vernacular favored by my classmates. In the 622 days Ive attended this high school, not a single person has ever sat beside me at lunch, which is what justifies my calling her sitting thereso close that her elbow almost grazes minean event. My first instinct is to reach for my notebook and look up her entry. Under K for Kit, not under L for Lowell, because though Im good with facts and scholarly pursuits, Im terrible with names. Partly this is because names are random words completely devoid of context, and partly this is because I believe names rarely fit the people they belong to, which, if you think about it, makes perfect sense. Parents name their child at a time when they have the absolute least amount of information they will ever have about the person they are naming. The whole practice is illogical.

Take Kit, for example, which is not actually her name, her name is Katherine, but I have never heard anyone call her Katherine, even in elementary school. Kit doesnt in any way look like a Kit, which is a name for someone who is boxy and stiff and easily understandable with step-by-step instructions. Instead the name of the girl sitting next to me should have a Z in it, because shes confusing and zigzagged and pops up in surprising placeslike at my lunch tableand maybe the number eight, because shes hourglass-shaped, and the letter S too, because its my favorite. I like Kit because shes never been mean to me, which is not something I can say about the vast majority of my classmates. Its a shame her parents got her name all wrong.

Im a David, which also doesnt work, because there are lots of Davids in the worldat last check 3,786,417 of them in the United States aloneand so by virtue of my first name, one would assume Id be like lots of other people. Or, at the very least, relatively neurotypical, which is a scientific, less offensive way of saying normal. That hasnt been the case. At school, no one calls me anything, except the occasional homo or moron, neither of which is in any way accuratemy IQ is 168 and Im attracted to girls, not boys. Also, homo is a pejorative term for a gay person, and even if my classmates are mistaken about my sexual orientation, they should know better than to use that word. At home my mom calls me sonwhich I have no problem with because its truemy dad calls me David, which feels like an itchy sweater with a too-tight neck, and my sister calls me Little D, which for some inexplicable reason fits just right, even though Im not even a little bit little. Im six foot two and 165 pounds. My sister is five foot three and 105 pounds. I should call her Little L, for Little Lauren, but I dont. I call her Miney, which is what Ive been calling her since I was a baby, because shes always felt like the only thing in a confusing world that belongs to me.

Miney is away at college, and I miss her. Shes my best friendtechnically speaking, my only friendbut I feel like even if I had friends, shed still be my best one. So far shes the only person Ive ever known who has helped make being me a little less hard.

By now youve probably realized Im different. It usually doesnt take people very long to figure that out. One doctor thought I might have a borderline case of Aspergers, which is stupid, because you cant have a borderline case of Aspergers. Actually, you cant really have Aspergers at all anymore, because it was written out of the DSM-5 (the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) in 2013, and instead people with that group of characteristics are considered to have high-functioning autism (or HFA), which is also misleading. The autism spectrum is multidimensional, not linear. The doctor was obviously an idiot.

Out of curiosity, Ive done my own reading in this area (I bought a used DSM-4 on eBay; the 5 was too pricey), and though I lack the necessary medical training required to make a full diagnostic assessment, I dont believe the label applies to me.

Yes, I can get myself into trouble in social situations; I like order and routine; when Im interested in something, I can be hyperfocused to the exclusion of other activities; and, fine, I am clumsy. But when I have to, I can make eye contact. I dont flinch if you touch me. I tend to recognize most idioms, though I keep a running list in my notebook just in case. I like to think Im empathetic, but I dont know if thats true.

Im not sure it really matters if I have Aspergers, anyway, especially because it no longer exists. Its just another label. Take the word jock. If enough psychiatrists wanted to, they could add that to the