In my early forties, I began dating someone I knew from high school. This led me to connect with another friend, who came to an opening at my Lower East Side gallery during that one-year window between 2008 and 2009, when I was open. He said he was still in touch with a lot of people from high school. I was not. He was living with another guy from high school at the time, and I asked him if that other guy still hated me. I was actually joking when I said it. He said that his roommate still didn’t like me. I said nothing and walked over to talk to an artist I knew.
Many times in my youth, a friend of a friend asked me if I liked their friend. They meant liked-liked, not as a friend. I never understood what they were asking. I would always ask, “Why wouldn’t I like them? We hang out all the time.” Then a game would begin that I wasn’t part of because of my personal obliviousness. They would say, “Why do you hang out with her all the time?” I would retort, “Because I like spending time with her.” Stalemate. Sometimes these awkward conversations led to something; other times, they just disintegrated into the air because of my obtuseness. In both cases, I'd go fill up another McDonald’s giant-size USA Dream Team collector’s cup with ice and Mountain Dew and go on with my day.
I’ve had passengers with me in the car who flinch and flail as other drivers cut us off and swerve near us. They always wondered openly why I wasn’t reacting, honking, or yelling. I would always ask them back, “About what?” They'd explain exactly what had just happened and why I should be madder. I still didn’t get it. The world happens in front of me, but doesn’t require a reaction. I usually would just say, “Oh, yeah,” to make them feel better. They probably wanted me to curse, or honk, or jam the brakes and roll my eyes. I would just forward to the next song.
Sometimes people tried to beat around the bush when telling me something, but I could never locate the tree next to the bush. I would just see the bush and think, okay. It infuriated them, which led to an even more roundabout game of why I couldn’t understand the prelude to the show. I would get hung up on why we were discussing the happenstance of the words instead of the main issue they were trying to get to. Most of the time, they would give up and never tell me. I would just go play another game of 2K and never think of the interaction again.
Even if I had a card that said Asperger’s during all these times, I don’t think it would have helped.
© Jonathan Greene, October 30, 2026
