http://www.wrongplanet.net/postp2159592.html#2159592
I am elated that I found this thread. It is kind of a validation for me; I did not realize other people were like this.
Anyway, my social fixations actually do have a tendency to take on romantic overtones, which, combined with my homosexuality and lack of subtlety in my display of affection, results in the object of my obsession, and everyone else for that matter, to feel that I am, in their words, "extremely creepy."
There seems to be only one route to this frequently reached, but alas! unfortunate, destination: A new semester begins, and there is a boy in a class who seems particularly masculine, achieved either through male stoicism (and big muscles) or male jocularity (and big muscles). In both cases, this junction of a rugged constitution with a rugged psyche—the archetypal man— fosters in me an intense need to become close to the boy, with the ultimate aspiration of being affectionately held by the boy in their arms, regardless of whether he loves me or is "just joking." It does not matter because, if a boy were to ever hold me, most likely with the latter reasoning, I would just reconceptualize the scene to my liking, retaining only the embrace.
"Reality is flimsy." ~ A Good Friend
And especially so when you are an Aspie. Thank god, too! If I could not paradigm reality in whichever way I want to jive better with my obsessions, I do not know what I would do. Really.
However, this advantage can be present itself in quite an opposite way when it is not done purposefully. (Nota Bene: I do not have psychosis.) For example, in conversation, I would incessantly hear my crush's name when it has not been said. Additionally, at the height of my obsession with a love, there will be multiple occasions throughout the day where their face will appear unsolicited to my mind's eye. This can become exceptionally annoying—a great many ponderings never came to conclusions due to such causes.
More conscience manifestations of my obsession exist in my constant vigilance in looking for changes on their Facebook pages (I must refresh my current obsession's profile at least 15 times a day, literally), spending long periods of time searching their names on Google, spending long periods of time searching their parents' names on Google, psychoanalyzing them, comparing them to everyone I know, comparing myself to them, making lists of their top 10 friends, wondering if they know that I am obsessed with them, wondering how would they react if they were to find out that they have become a large part of my life, contemplating why I adore them, devising ways to further ingratiate myself with them, coming up with ways to extort hugs from them (including pretending my mother has just died), gaining an interest in psychology to reason out a psychological basis for each of their personality traits, asking them questions that I know the answers to, making mini-collages of their Facebook pictures, talking almost exclusively about them to anyone that will listen, throwing up when they finally find out about all of the above (via the people I told), trying my best to make them feel comfortable, feeling not only hurt, but dejected, due to all of the antics that they employ to avoid me (now I regret being attracted to jocularity), having break-downs when people tell me that they think that my love is "disgusting" (and they only now about the Facebook part and the mini-collage!).
I can spend entire nights listening to music and doing all of the above, surprisingly passively too.
This was for all of my ladies that just wanted a bit more,
Girl, Look at You! (G.L.A.Y.)
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