“So what is it with you, anyway? Is it like Asperger’s or something?”

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Probably not, though it has been suggested. Both former arch nemeses, and the senior sidekick, seem(ed) to think so. The other sidekicks decline to weigh in. I don’t know whether I appreciate their kindness or respect their indifference.

During the death throes of my second marriage, Drama Queen discovered the on-line Asperger’s community. As a consequence, I received a great deal of required reading. As I understand it, a syndrome describes a collection of related symptoms, all pointing to one pathology or another. Recognized symptomology seems to use the super-majoritarian approach. Match seven or eight of these ten behavioral distinctions, and the psych community will declare you a sufferer of thus and so.

Drama Queen and Busy Body and Star Gazer may have a point. Like the Aspies, I am both monomaniacal and hyper-literal. I can easily immerse myself in my fancies for hours on end, and fresh metaphors often take me by surprise. Old and tired metaphors don’t, but I’ll often treat them as literal if I’m in a cantankerous mood. The main difference is (I hope) my wit. Aspies seem to have no sense of irony, whereas I revel in it.

My best friends don’t think it’s Asperger’s at all.
They think I’m a jerk.

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