Unmasking, Social Scripts, Eye Contact & the Villain Era of Self-Preservation
Unmasking, Social Scripts, Eye Contact & the Villain Era of Self-Preservation
, “Wow, but you make such good eye contact, you can’t be autistic!”
…Sure, Sharon. Because what you don’t see is the silent dance happening in my head: 2…3…4 look away. Smile. Nod. Back to eyes. Don’t stare too long. Don’t look at the mouth. Did they just frown? Was that sarcasm? Keep the rhythm.
For neurodivergent people, social interaction isn’t just “natural.” It’s an algorithm.
The Choreography of Eye Contact
Every conversation is a balancing act. Too much eye contact? Intense. Too little? Cold. Too long at someone’s mouth? Flirty. Too distracted? Disconnected. It’s exhausting. What looks like “instinct” for others, I run like software in the background of my brain, while simultaneously analyzing tone, microexpressions, body language, and context.
It’s not just about eyes. It’s about decoding, predicting, and managing connections in real-time.
The Energy Cost
People often think “social battery” means you get tired gradually. For me, it feels more like an implosion. The download of information keeps running long after the conversation ends. Sometimes, an hour later, I’ll suddenly get a flash: oh… that was sarcasm. Or: wait, were they upset?
Masking, forcing myself to keep the choreography perfect, multiplies the cost. It leaves me drained, second-guessing, and sometimes spiraling into self-doubt.
When Masking Breaks
Here’s the paradox: the only times eye contact feels easy are when I’m deeply interested. Then the mask falls away, and I slip into hyperfocus. The result? Either intense, unblinking eye contact that makes others squirm, or none at all, because I’m lost in words. Cue the “verbal diarrhea.” Both confuse people. Both are authentic.
The Misreads
My focus on facial details can backfire. Sometimes I get mistaken for flirting when I’m simply overanalyzing expressions. Other times, genuine flirting goes right over my head because I logged it as “friendly.” These misfires aren’t carelessness; they’re the brain juggling too many layers of input at once.
And honestly?
“I’m probably not flirting, it’s just the ’tism.”
What feels like deep interest and focus to me can easily be read as romantic or suggestive. Long, unbroken eye contact. Fixating on someone’s smile. Mirroring their expressions. To me, it’s data collection, connection, or genuine enthusiasm. To the other person, it can look like an attraction.
On the flip side, when someone really is flirting with me, I often don’t notice, because I’m too busy running my inner choreography: keep the rhythm, decode tone, manage my own body language. By the time I realize, the moment has usually passed.
This double-bind is something many neurodivergent people recognize: being misunderstood socially, even when your intention is simply connection, not seduction.
Learning to Unmask
The truth? I actually like people. I enjoy connection, deep conversations, and shared laughter. But to survive socially, I’ve often over “masked” suppressing quirks, running the full choreography, and pushing myself past my own limits.
Now, I’m learning to loosen my grip. Sometimes I’ll hold eye contact too long. Sometimes I’ll avoid it. Sometimes I’ll ask 101 clarifying questions. Sometimes I’ll choose silence and headphones instead of small talk. If masking takes too much energy, I will think: Adapting or explaining myself is too much work, please just judge me if you must.
And that’s okay. Because the people who truly matter, the ones I want close, don’t need the mask. They accept the quirks, the glitches, the intensity.
Tips (short & simple):
- Notice your own limits. When you’re masking too hard, pause.
- Let go of “perfect” eye contact. Authentic beats choreography.
- Protect your energy: you don’t owe everyone full access to you.
- Remember: unmasking filters out the wrong people and draws in the right ones.
villain era
Unmasking sometimes feels like my villain era, like I’m being mean by not accommodating others to be more palatable, but honestly? Unmasking is freedom. If that makes me “strange” in the eyes of some… so be it.
My energy, my rules.
