Dancing in the Grey – Life with my Asperger’s – E17


Dancing in the Grey – Life with my Asperger’s

© Rory Matier 2015

Note …

Please Note this book was written in 2015.

If you are of a sensitive nature, maybe miss this chapter out – it’s not blatantly rude or even obscene  but it does discuss personal sexuality. I have never held back when discussing sexuality or sensuality and my readers should know full well by now, that l am at times abruptly honest and candid in my writing, so cannot change that now.

This chapter comprises two episodes.

The views within these chapters are mine and may not necessarily resonate with others on the spectrum – however bear in mind the quote by Dr. Stephen Shore .. “If you’ve met one person with autism, you’ve met one person with autism.”


Chapter 11 – Ep 17

Part 1

Hyper Sexuality Vs Hyper Sensitivity:

Feeding Curiosity


During the years of researching Aspergers, which although not an obsession these days, l still like to keep updated with the various news topics that cover the disorder itself. Not long after my diagnosis, l came across an online quiz that dealt with ‘sexuality in the spectrum’, and further read that many within experience problems and frustrations and at times downright fear and confusion regarding this subject. I answered an awful amount of questions, some basic and straight forwards and others quite outlandish [in my eyes], l answered true to my nature and with brutal honesty which is my way. I never received any feedback which is a shame in some ways because it may have been an eye opener for me especially with my past.

But after answering all these questions it made me think very hard about the subject of sexuality, a topic which has been rather dear to me in my life. I felt a chapter was in order by itself, for a few reasons, but mainly two. One, with the autobiographies l have read to date l have not seen the topic discussed at any length and two, because in fact for a good many years sex was an obsession with me, way above the scale of a mere special interest.

l am lucky, l do not fear sex – but l once did, it terrified me, l used to believe that perhaps l had an odd way of looking at it. My Father would constantly refer to me as ‘gay’ a homosexual, because of my incredible shyness with the opposite sex. I have never stuttered, but when faced with the prospect of talking to a girl, l was constantly fumbling my words and wishing to the stars above that l had never ventured on such a foolish task! I was laughed at in school, and also it was assumed that l was gay, and only because of my shyness. My philosophy these days is the same as it was back in my teenager years, l don’t care for a person’s sexuality as long as they are happy with the person they are.

But l do ask myself why, many biographies l have read do not cover this, for surely my own faults and flaws were not unique to me alone? Is the fact that l do discuss it so openly inappropriate behaviour and if the book hits publishing, these chapters will be removed, or is it a taboo subject, or maybe it is because it is not necessary to write about, or maybe again, because some writers do not wish to disclose secrets of the bedroom? It doesn’t bother me. But other writers may not feel comfortable talking about love, sex, relationships and romance?


I used to write for erotic magazines, it was a way of discussing sometimes in comical form, naughty adventures between the sheets and dirty night time stories, and l was paid for it. There was so much irony in all of these writings, when it first began, because l was still such a bedtime novice it changed of course and very quickly.

I am no longer the shy boy come teenager, l am a man that enjoys the way of the flesh. I have an interest in reading erotic literature – not to be confused with pornography that has its place in this world, but is not my passion, so talking, writing and discussing sexuality matters not, l can be both frank and candid about it all.

In my travels l have met quite a few Aspies both male and female, some live normal lives with no problems what so ever, others are in fact confused by their sexuality, some are acutely shy almost painfully and l can sympathise with them on that level. Others around my own age now, have never had or experienced a relationship let alone a sexual relationship, but are flirts. Some find it a challenge in the emotional department and leave sex well alone as touch causes them discomfort.

Of the four topics above: love, sex, relationships and romance, l originally had problems with them all, if l include the fifth ‘marriage’ this too brought its own version of grey hell to me, so on many levels l can relate to those who experience problems in this department.

I have had failed relationships due to Aspergers both pre diagnosis and upon recognition, as well as sampled horribly some very awkward and compromising moments and a list of other misfortunes. Now, many years on, l have managed to secure and over come many of them to a suitable measure of competence, but it has taken me nearly thirty five years to achieve this.

My days as a bachelor are l believe long gone, l am in a healthy and balanced relationship with a beautiful woman who l love and adore. She understands not just me, but also Aspergers and as an NT – sure we still have a few blips and glitches, but we talk about everything, it was our pact to discuss the good, the bad and the ugly. I like the black and white and steer clear of the grey; she is able to dance in all three.

Everything l have learned in my life has been self taught concerning these topics, some of my teachings have not gone as planned or l have become caught up in the fantasy role of what ‘society’ would have displayed each one as. Society has a beautifully cunning way of manipulating advertising to suit its marketed brands, and these subjects are not without their own form of promotion.

It would have been great to say my parents were my role models, but sadly all they confirmed to me was ‘how to not be’ in a relationship, and how very confusing the whole issue was! My Sister has had equally as many failures in relationships as l, so she is not the walking advert of success either, although she has two children and l have none. But l think it is safe to say that our parents and their upbringing of us basically did scar us both beyond the things already mentioned.

Over the years l have had opportunity to look very deeply into the darker side of my nature, and some things are best left well be, although l will discuss them later. I have never been an adulterer unlike at least one of my parents. My Mother would not contest the fact that her husband was not ideal for he wasn’t, whether that was entirely all his own fault, l am no longer sure. But l am not my Father or my Mother, l am their son.

What l write of, is from my experiences, my observations, what worked and did not work, the confusions at the time, how my undiagnosed disorder shaped not only me but also the very foundations of some of my relationships. How my partners were affected by an unknown entity which is called Aspergers.


Doing the Dirty Deed!

Sexual activity is many a time seen as some kind of taboo subject, like homosexuality as an example, my own Father was a profound homophobe so much so, that he often used to call me spitefully ‘gay’, when not calling me retarded and stupid or anything else he thought of at the time. You will have read that he was a long term bully for me at home and whilst l may have been teased and bullied at school it was nothing in comparison to what hanus insults he might throw at me when at home.

And l was not so much physically bullied during school hours although that did happen also, it was more of a mental attack on my personality, l was considered many a time weak in comparison to my peers, l knew l did not always fit in with them, no matter how hard l tried, l was at the butt end of some of their jokes, mostly l noticed it was due to my social graces or lack of them, the fact that l never liked to lie and was easily manipulated into a corner and made the scape goat for many others, and in a further attempt to be accepted often accepted blame for those l thought were friends.

As l got older still l had to contend with my Fathers’ verbal lashings but also then l had both boys and girls teasing me about my lack of sexual prowess, my shyness, my occasional stutter with the opposite sex, not always understanding the crudeness of the humour, my lack of swearing at an age to that of my peers and having to almost be force fed swearing techniques by my Father when l was 12.

I was never a Mummy’s boy although my Mother loved me very much and at times was probably seen to be overly protective, especially from my Father who considered me even more a weakling who hid behind his Mother’s skirts, which l don’t really recall ever doing, but he always thought l was a useless nothing – of course these days he denies having those thoughts, but we are talking about a man who despite my love for him chooses to have ‘selective memories’ about his time as my Father and as my Mother’s husband, taken to the point that he almost appears to be ashamed of loving her at all. Which is not only profound but l do consider it a serious bloody insult on not only her but on his children.


He would make claim that he was a lad’s lad, yet if when my Mother speaks of his own sexual prowess or his ability to communicate in any way shape or form with regards women in general she is not overly complementing of his behaviour and would say he was nothing but sexist and almost religiously chauvinistic and that the only purpose for women as he believed it to be was to cook the dinner, keep house and swoon at his primitive romantic advances’, and that was the extent to his sexual prowess.

However even at my age l still find it kind of bizarre to be thinking of my parents having not just sex but any kind of sex, as their children it was just something we never wanted to be thinking of, but let us be subjective, they did it, other wise we as children would not be here, so whilst sex may be taboo in some quarters it still happens whether or not there is an ‘eeeew!’ factor involved.

He would be very quick to attack my lack of progress with the girls but would also forget that his own Mother said that he as a child growing into a young man was extremely shy around girls of his own age! But this is not about whether my Father was a stud bucket or not, it is however about my own experiences in the field of discovering my sexual abilities and tastes.

As a young man, boy, lad etc. l had no earthly idea that l was Aspergic, yes l knew there were moments [and lots of them] when l did not seemingly slot easily into the peer crowd, l also knew my life at home was very difficult because of not only the awkwardness of my parents and their constant arguing but additionally the bizarre behaviour and actions of my Father.

I was shy around girls it was that simple, plenty of others my age were equally as shy, so it was not an unusual phenomena, l suppose in truth it was just made even more damning because at around 13 ish l noticed them more, because their shape tended to be very different and somewhat more alluring. But l used to stutter around them, and become somewhat embarrassed if l was caught looking at them, and look l did, it was suggested to me by one of my teachers that it was not the looking that was the problem it was more that l seemed to stare at them, long and hard as if l was trying to solve some kind of riddle. More so, l stared quite fixedly at certain parts of them, as if l was unable to do anything else and it is quite true, breasts have always fascinated me, even to this day, but l don’t need to be an Aspergian male to understand that issue, for my Neuro cousins also understand the intrinsic beauty.

I never knew what to say to girls, l tried by talking to them about what l was interested in, but that never worked, and was probably quite boring if honest, yet other lads of my age without any effort on their part were like Casanova’s in my eyes, they would sweep into a class room like cocky likely lads and cause the girls to swoon, not me, l would attempt such things and usually end up tripping my own feet or being tripped over by someone else, ending up on the floor in a heap, and surrounded by laughter.

I could never talk to my Mother about such things, she and l were close, but she would simply say, ‘don’t worry about it love, some boys are later learners’, and l would be left even more clueless than l was to begin with. My Father was to be brutally frank, bloody useless, he was always going on about how gay l was, and that at his age he would be showing the girls a good time, which l knew was poffle anyway, and then my Mother would throw in a comment of, ‘oh well it appears to have dwindled out with you and ageing hasn’t it dear?’ And then this would usually be enough to ignite the start of another four hour argument!

It all started to change not over night of course, but gradually when l was around fifteen and l simply started to get along with some girls as ‘friends’, [yes of course l fancied them], and found that it was if anything easier to relate to girls than the boys of my age group, and at times l would often be in a group of girls just enjoying the conversations, and l started to take note of certain ‘repeatables’ – lines that were talked of over and over again, of what the girls looked for in their boyfriends, what they liked and disliked, also at the same sort of age l was considered ‘cute’ by many of them, and not ‘boyfriend’ material, they saw me as a brother and not someone they would want to share a kiss or anything else with.

At the time it was irksome l have to say, but l did learn a lot, l learned that humour was a sure fire way of over coming my awkward moments with them, and soon started to act like the school jester, quite mischievous not in a naughty way, but more of a sort of innocent stupidity, larking about, which of course was frowned upon by many mostly teachers and some of my geek friends, but as is the way it also drew me into the wrong crowd who were known for even more daring pranks.

Cellophane on toilet seats [girls lavatory], pretending that herbal tea was in fact a kg of wrapped up cannabis  imported in from Germany [in fact it did come from there, and it was a full kilogram, but it was herbal and it was tea], pretending to hold up the dinner ladies with a fake gun and take off with the lunch tokens, looking back it was innocent, although today it might even get you expelled, but finally albeit wrong crowd, l was starting to feel like l fitted in, the girls liked a ‘lad’, and more so they liked one that could make them laugh.

Of course l would never make the criteria to be a real lad, but l could pretend, and according to my drama teacher l was really quite good at that, alongside mimicing and observation.


But this was sufficient to get me through school with some degree of normalcy even if at home it was not well received by the disciplinarian. Whilst at school l never had a girlfriend, l never ever got to first base with any female of any class, but l was at least on the first rung of the longest ladder known to mankind with regards to my first lessons in ‘understanding’ women … I was never a closer according to the other ‘lads’, l was very good at opening gambits, could make the girls’ laugh, but with regards ‘chatting up’ nope, not a chance in hell.

‘Girl’ friends at the time said they could not understand what was wrong with me, l was really funny, had an accent which was supposedly a turn on [Australian dialect], somewhat cute, but seriously appeared to be clueless to social cues and more importantly body language, signs, the ‘come on’, and lead in comments by girls who did want me to ask them out.

Further more the confusion from my friends was that l could soften up the opposite sex, but fail to see that when l had them eating out of my hands that was the time to strike, yet always could not close. I was missing cues, yet was never truly aware that l was being cued! And so all l had to contend with was lots of ‘friends’ that just happened to be girls, had lots of crushes even some of my female teachers knew l fancied them, but just saw it as a simple crush.

So although l had so wanted a girlfriend whilst at school, l wanted something which would prove to my Father that l was not what he constantly insinuated, but it never transpired from fantasy into reality.

I remember having to undergo the torments of my fitting into my peer groups from my Father when l had my ear pierced and my hair low lighted, trying to wear the right fashion of the time, kissing pillow corners and spending much longer times in the toilet with the month’s copy of my Mother’s Cosmopolitan and still nothing would get that damn man off my back, l was always slow, gay and stupid and never amount to anything.

Despite being married with two children of his own, my Father was an outrageous flirt with women, even in front of my Mother at times, he did not do it to make her jealous per se although it had that effect on her, he was simply a man who could talk the talk but in her eyes never walk the walk.  He was a good looking and handsome man, in a well paid job and who always floundered away the money, and who liked to drink and considered himself a man’s man and loved the confidence boost he would receive when women fawned themselves in front of him and my Mother. And all this achieved was to deepen my mistrust of him, l vowed back then l would never deliberately treat a woman like that, and thankfully l never wittingly have.

My Mother was an attractive woman, still is although now in her mid seventies, but my Father could never see this, he was always interested in harvesting greener pastures, not ever truly comprehending that the field he was in was more than enough to sate his desires, if only he could spend the time to nurture it. My Mother would many years on divorce him for unreasonable behaviour [violence and quirkiness] and adultery.

She denies emphatically these days what l write next, but my memory is long and l remember seeing her cry when she would wonder why he was so dementedly awkward as a husband and not like other men. She loved, nay worshipped the ground he trod, but he simply could never see that or in his eyes it was never enough. In my eyes she had the patience of a team of burdened oxen, and whilst l would like to believe she was not an adulterer also, she did seek solace from other men, [apparently my uncles?] who would listen to her woes!


But my Mother when younger was also somewhat naïve and trusting or so she would have me believe to the intentions of some of these men, and fail to see that they were not in her life for mere friendship. So as you can see, not the ideal role models on certain subjects concerning the opposite sex.

By the time l had left school and started on my way into adolescent life, l was still none really the wiser, l had a few scrapes, but nothing of any true merit, l could befriend females which was easier than dating them.

One scrape involved dating  for two weeks completely the wrong girl, l had intended to ask out the older Sister, but managed to become so nervous during the close that l simply settled on anything, we only went out for less than a week because upon being invited to her house and went upstairs to her bedroom, l completely misread the situation, had a head full of the ‘what to do’s’ by the friends, and when sitting down for a ‘gentle kiss’, could not control my over eager hands, who just happened to discover ‘breasts’ for the first time!

However the discovery l think looking back in her eyes was a good month before due time … anyway when being told to leave l noticed the girl l had wanted to ask out in the first place sitting in the Loungeroom and my argument of ‘well actually it was your Sister l wanted to ask out in the first place’ was seriously not well received. [Socially awkward does not even cover that in the slightest]

Other scrapes usually involved missing the cue, after receiving the ‘come on’ from the opposite sex, and no amount of little black books [a fad in the 80’s for school lads] helped out, or for that matter could ever help me with identifying the simple ‘come on over here’ looks! It was seriously a grey subject matter filled to the brim with confusion. More humiliations would follow from the girls who had awarded the green light in the first place, for they then believed l was being cocky or rejecting them, and then would toss the idea further around school that l was without a doubt a closet gay, just waiting to spring open the latch!

Between the ages of sixteen to eighteen nothing really improved that much, l had a few dates, was still a virgin which is admirable in some eyes, but not seen as such by a Father who was eying me up and down on a regular basis still firmly in the belief that l was not right in the head, on drugs and quite possibly unstable as far as women went. He simply could not understand nor comprehend that as his son was at college and as such surrounded by a bevy of beauties all day how he still did not have a permanent girlfriend of any nature. In his eyes l was not even social by any standards, had lots of girls who happened to be friends, but none which l ever shared a bed with!

I enjoyed college immensely as l was surrounded by many a time like minded souls who were there to learn sure, but just enjoy the social aspect of it all, and trust me when l say there were enough problems day to day on that level alone. Although it was at college l was able to finally master the way forwards on flirting due to an excellent female friend of mine, but still quite useless on ‘chatting up’, a chocolate ashtray was more effective than l was!

However, my friend at seeing my frustration awarded me a little nugget of golden information which served me very well over the years. ‘Don’t worry about chatting them up, with your humour you can simply flirt them into bed, not forgetting your quirky gift of the gab!’ Have to admit to being taken aback by what she said and somewhat confused l had known her for two years and despite my so called comical outlook l had never once managed to secure her to my bed chambers! Her answer was that l was a friend only and it would be like having sex with her brother, and that was a clear enough message as was!

Back then it was very hard for me to understand certain emotions, l found that l could have very intense feelings and thoughts about some of my girl – friends, l was always falling for them, but they would always say that they had not meant to give me that impression and they were not interested in me sexually or even romantically, and it was only friendship that they wanted, that they enjoyed my company, my humour and my deep discussions on life.

It was confusing for me to see the difference and over the years l learned in order to cope l would have to sectionalise these emotions – l could only see and make sense of them in a black and white form of logic, love was love, romance was romance, sex was sex and relationships oh Gods they were even harder to manage than the other three. Even as little back as the time l was first dating Suzanne, if the cue was not black and white l could miss it!

Many a time in my younger and not so young years, l would and could misread the intentions of women who simply wanted to be friends, and that any feelings l might have for them were not being reciprocated! It took me a long time to understand that women could be friends with no sexual connection, and that the way forwards with me was to be brutally blunt and direct so nothing could ever be misinterpreted!

I did not know at the time that in order for me to understand what was being said to me by a woman who liked me more than a friend and wanted more, was that more or less they had to parade around naked in front of me to click! When that eureka moment dawns on you eventually, you do look back and think, blimey l must have been really socially awkward, and how some girls must have been an at an absolute loss with me.

When younger l was very intense with my emotions, this is not to say that l don’t or can not experience deep emotions now, for l can, but l have learned control when using the right emotions with the right people. But to some people, emotions are still very difficult to express, my Father is one of them. I used to tell my Mother l loved her every day when l was a young lad at around ten years of age, until my Father drew me to one side and instructed me to stop telling her that as it was not healthy for a lad of my age!

He said it irked him that his son used to say it to his wife more then he, her husband did. After that l thought, oh my goodness, maybe l was wrong for saying such a thing to my Mother and took him at his word and hardly ever said it to her. It was years later when my Mother asked me why l was almost reticent to tell her that l loved her, that l told her that story, she was silent for quite some time and l believed her to be upset, and did not know what to say to her, except this ‘Mum, l have always loved you, even when l was not allowed to say it, l never stopped loving you, you were after all my Mum and still are’. This seemed the right thing to do, but it was not forced, it was l believe right.

My ex wife was never truly one for being told this every day, but my current partner does enjoy to hear me both say it and use the term freely, but then we do not wear masks with each other, there is a difference. I do not have to say sorry to her for saying it, and do not feel ashamed for saying it.

However this section is about sex, and my obsession or addiction with it, whilst not a special interest any more, l still enjoy my sexuality to the utmost, and am very lucky to have a partner who reciprocates my attentions!


The first time l had sex, well the first time l was completely naked with a girl, was great, except this is where l guessed deception came into play.  I had flirted this girl off her feet, she had succumbed to every line l had read about in the little Black Book’, yet when we got home, and we were lying naked together in my bed, everything went wrong. If you can forget the fact that l was shaking like a fuzzy tree, that l could not get comfortable, that l was excited beyond recognition, if those things you can forgive, that’s great. But when it came down to the actual act, l was a nightmare!

Skin on skin has always held a heightened arousal for me, even for my first time it was no different. Feeling her nakedness next to mine was an out of body experience. Feeling her body next to mine, her warmth, her scent was just mind blowing. In fact my mind was blowing, l had thousands of images like rockets soaring around my brain, and l could not control them, no matter how hard l tried to slow my whirring brain down!

I knew about the birds and bees, had managed to secret away my Father’s book on the Joy of Sex a few months previously, so had what l thought was a basic visual input of where everything was and where [more importantly] things should go! Kissing was manageable; months on pillow corners had taught me that lesson. Breasts were very easy, and oh my goodness, how could they not be? They are simply delicious to both behold and to handle. Touch was a little tricky and perhaps l should have listened to the small bells ringing in my mind at that time, but l placed that tingling down to nerves and excitement.

And yet, well you know? Knowing about the birds and the bees and reading a book on the subject is simply inadequate as a learning curve! It is nothing to experience and sensual knowledge, nothing in the way of sexual awareness – it was NOT a solid foundation for total preparedness!

Penetration! Nothing said about how suddenly my penis seemed to be on fire, or how each and every single one of those rocket like images would suddenly bounce and ricochet off the cavity of my skull! It never talked of almost passing out with an acute pain beyond my threshold either! NO, none of those things were discussed. What was written was of ‘incredible pleasure, of silkiness, and of almost heart stopping sensations of enjoyment! BUT yet nothing of ‘Oh my God, that tickles the hell out of me and it’s not bloody funny!’

I feel sure to this day, that at the precise moment when l nearly fainted from the overwhelming sensation of so called ‘pleasure’, my date was stunned at my reaction – lovemaking did not occur, no teasing nor frolics, just a desperate urge to get out of there and run off for a freezing cold shower to try and ease myself out of the painful tickling itch! When l returned, there she was sitting up in the bed, looking remarkably gorgeous and still incredibly naked with a bemused expression on her face and to then deliver the line of ‘First time eh?’ l can assure the reader simply did not help.

When l explained to her, that it was not her, but that l was extremely sensitive down there, she seemed to just accept it, and said that we would take things slow, or slower or dead stop slowest speed. Which was charming, but for me that time was enough. Embarrassing did not even cover how l felt, l felt humiliated and was awash with feelings of inadequacy and that perhaps my father was right – maybe l was gay!

Here l was just under twenty years of age, a virgin, and left wondering if l was perhaps not meant for the opposite sex at all!  She, a year younger than me and more wise in ‘certain departments’, in fact became my first ever ‘long term’ girlfriend, an odd relationship if ever there was one, but she was very understanding and hellishly fun.


What l had truly discovered that night was that not only was l sensitive but hyper sensitive down there! Which is very much an Aspergian trait!

As a couple we stayed together off and on for around 18 months, we were friends for a couple of years after that. And as a couple we explored much together, we never enjoyed penetrative sex during our time together, but we did enjoy some very lengthy foreplay sessions, as well as some naughty adventures! My hyper sensitivity was something which stayed with me through all of my relationships and to a point is still with me today, although thank goodness, down there is not quite as hyper as it once was.

As a first time relationship, and extracting full on sex from the equation, it taught me a lot about what l liked sexually. I experienced premature ejaculation during those days which was down to the amount of foreplay l had, which l discovered eased my hyper sensitivity down a few degrees. It was an odd relationship in truth, we were good, no great friends, we enjoyed each others’ company, but we shared no loving emotions for each other. She used to say to me that she felt l was detached from emotion. It was an open relationship also, well for her. I was loyal to what we were, but l was not in love with her, nor did l love her. She was simply my part time girlfriend, with whom l had partial sex with. In many ways it was an odd relationship and was viewed by others as weird, but we worked. We did not worry about what others’ thought about it, it was none of their damn business. At least l knew by this time l was not homosexual, and it also shut my Father up. But hell he fancied her anyway, and had made several passes to her, just to cause me alarm and panic!

She saw other guys, and whetted her desires for penetrative sex with them, but loved our foreplay together and always said that l had an extremely sensitive touch that constantly turned her on. In fact as sensitive as l was in certain areas, l could deliver the same sensations via my lips, tongue or finger tips to my partner that l was in no way able to accept myself. I discovered my first fondness for fantasy with her. She would recount her adventures with these other chaps and l would become turned on visualising these other men with her, doing the things they were doing and feeling a pleasure from knowing they had turned her on.

Premature ejaculation and hypersensitivity was a nightmare throughout our relationship, and whilst we had fun, it was at times very frustrating even with the likes of foreplay. A straight forward hand job or oral sex was just way too of an upset, the tickling sensation was not really that at all, imagine a kind of elbow bang in slow motion and you might experience what l felt during these intimate moments. Far from pleasurable l can tell you now?

Also another issue was the constant whirring of my mind; l had thousands of images flashing around up there, which made it very difficult to concentrate with the job at hand. I could be fondling her breasts and suddenly find myself thinking about something l had read in a comic, or a clip from a movie, or trying to figure out how many words l could make from the word ‘hospital’, or at times music would fill my head and l had to stop what l was doing and simply almost reboot. It was not that l was not excited about being with her, but the more excited l became my mind just got quicker and l became overwhelmed by all of the images, the breasts, the pleasure and then suddenly boom! I had ejaculated. It was a really horrible time!


We drifted apart, not split up, because although we were a couple, we were not a solid couple in the traditional sense, we had never consummated our relationship with any cement. She was very fond of me, but wanted more, not just penetrative sex, but she needed emotion which l seemingly could not award her. It was not that l did not care for her; l just did not love her, nor care for her enough to want her in my life every day. Her comment was direct and to the point, ‘you only see us as an enjoyable arrangement, we feed our desires in different ways, which is fine for short term, but not long term, and l need something more now’. Whilst she agreed l was most assuredly not like other lads of my age in fact of some of the older men she dated, l was more mature than them. I was not romantic, l was factual and almost logical in my approach to sexuality, and whilst she had always considered it strange, she also found it had appealed to her.

I could not blame her for her feelings or her comments, she needed more than l did, she wanted to start a family, and l wasn’t ready for that. But l also knew deep down, she wasn’t who l wanted to be with and set up the rest of my life with. We basically had never achieved anything spectacular, apart from some sexual fun.

However after my first girlfriend, my next girlfriend/fiance was someone l had wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but that was not to be the case and life took her away from me. Our sex was a bit more advanced from just foreplay, l was still clumsy, and hypersensitive and awkward, but by my early twenties at least premature ejaculation was no longer a bed buddy! With her, l was emotional and caring, she was not just a fuck buddy, but someone l made love to and enjoyed it, before awkward moments took over.


The years that followed her and my Son’s death were not good years for me, over come with both grief and anger fuelled me into a very dark phase indeed. The unknown disorder within was about to experience some hardcore discovery, a plethora of sexual experimentation, a myriad of desire and lust and an introduction to the realms of fantasy, fetish, drugs, sex and house and rave! But above everything else l was about to learn about serious addiction and obsession to one subject!

I was not a Casanova between the sheets, although admittedly l was no longer the complete and utter shy geek of my teenaged years. I was socially awkward, l was somewhat clumsy, l was incredibly hypersensitive in certain areas and l had an extremely overactive mind! On the so called plus side, l could flirt the knickers off most women l met and seduce them into their beds, l was very sensual and possessed a feather touch, my sense of humour was dry and somewhat quirky, l was intelligent enough to hold my ground in most conversations on a host of subjects and l was both aloof and detached from my emotions.

I loved sex and being naked with women, but l desperately wanted to improve my performance for my partners, and maybe l might achieve gratification. If l could not be emotional, then l would be sexual, and if l could not be committed to a long term relationship, then in the very least l could make the very best of short term affairs! That became my credo, and it lived with me from around my mid twenties to the time l hit thirty!

The way of the flesh was a fascination with me, l enjoyed skin on skin sin, l loved women, the curves on their bodies. I perfected my flirting techniques and my seduction strategies and was able to in a matter of master strokes turn a definitive NO into not just a YES, but a Harry Met Sally style of ‘yes, yes, yes!’

I had given up worrying about fitting into the rest of society; l would make my own world, my own bubbled version of society and live within that! Sex moved from being merely an entertaining activity between two people to becoming an absolute rollercoaster of a hobby

I dedicated all my spare time to reading books on sexual positions, styles and cultures, fantasy role-play, fetish. I studied Tantric, researched the Kama Sutra and then read and researched more. I would don mask after mask to cope with my social problems and ensure l was in the right place at the right time; my heartbeat was on the pulse all the time of the night scene. I would work all day and party and fuck all night, and that was my lifestyle for almost five years. Sex has and will always be a high commodity market; it’s a massive traffic culture. I was never short of willing sexual partners.

One a night stands soon stretched into three a night stands in a single evening, having sex with one woman at a time could become boring, so l would experiment with two or three women at a time, or a friend of mine would help ourselves to a bevy of women and party all night, swapping partners all the time or sharing partners. Experimentation was the theme, and l discovered much about whom l was sexually during these times. I was not the homosexual my father had thought, l was very much a heterosexual man, but could fully understand and respect another person’s sexuality. Because sex is sex! Pleasure and sin is just that. Ultimate pleasures, ultimate sinning, all the same!


The dance scene and fashion culture of the eighties was a vibrancy that l fell into the deepest love with. The fast moving pace of House Music travelled at the same speed of my mind. I adored dancing, not for the social aspect, but it was where l could switch off to everything that went on around me, my hyper energies could be absorbed by dancing, both mentally and physically – in nightclubs or rave houses l could finally be me and let myself go. I was an unusually good dancer, quirky but different. Dancing never bothered me, l was at one with my mind and if brutally honest at my most happiest!

Loud music, smoke filled rooms with the heavy scent of pot, usually with a shot in a glass and surrounded by flesh that was hot and eager to be danced with erotically and fucked later on! When l danced l never did so with my eyes open viewing anyone, they were shut and l just relaxed into my mind. Girls liked guys who could dance and not be ashamed, embarrassed or filled with liquor to the point of drunken stupor! It was unbelievably easy to pick up a sexual partner in that scene! There was and is nothing grey about that scene, it’s always black and white so it was easy to understand and translate. Words were never a requirement, you were caught up in the moment, so a shag outside the club if not in the toilets was not unheard of, in fact it was not uncommon to simply do it somewhere in the club itself!

I managed to overcome quite a few of my personal sexual issues during this phase also, which was quite a bonus. The hardest one of course was how to calm down the thousands of images l experienced every time l actually engaged in sex! It was one thing to experience flashing images, numbers, words, spinning shapes, musical beats, the day’s events, problems and formulas every second of the day when l was occupied with work, or partying and dancing, but quite another if in a quieter environment! Club or group sex was much easier because usually the beats of the music were still around, but in the quieter confines of your apartment or hers it could become very alarming!

The easiest way l found to combat this overwhelming of the sensations was to overwhelm the sensations further, and to do that l found that when naked with a woman all l had to do was think about sexual activity in my head. That way all of my images could tune into a single subject. If l played a loud fast beat also and perhaps had a joint or two l found that l could relax into sexual activity! Physically l would be touching, kissing and having sex with the partner at the time, but mentally l was not just having sex with her in different positions, but imagining her with different women or men. This excited me further and found that my mental thoughts would trace out onto her body through my finger tips. To some this might read as perverse, but there will be others who probably just see it as yet another kinky fetish!

I am much calmer these days during sex, but still find that my mind travels at quite a pace before l can relax, so again l adopt this method as l know it to work! Suzanne was quite shocked at first when l told her how l tried to quiet my mind But when explaining it to her, further explained that my swinging days were long over, and the mental images l have are of her and her alone, and that all she has to really worry about is that l am only slightly addicted to sex these days. But luckily we have a very active sex life anyway, so l am always sated!


Chapter 11 – Ep 18 – Soon

Dancing in the Grey Directory

8 thoughts on “Dancing in the Grey – Life with my Asperger’s – E17

  1. Rory, l for one, appreciate your frankness and honestly! Romance, love, sex are natural wants, and needs. I’m not afraid of any of those subjects. I would love to write about sex once in a while, but publicly I keep my writing on simmer because I have son’s and my choice is to respect their love for me. This post is spectacular in truth and reference of your life. Nicely done!

      1. Always! All we can be is who we are! You have lived an adventurous life Rory! Be proud of your Blessings and mistakes, and most of all…You are loved! You’re awesome! ~ Sail on Man. Sail on! ~

        1. Thank you – yes l have in many ways lived a blessed life Myth, probably more so than many realise – blessed and a survivor ..

          You know it’s funny but Melanie of Sparks from a Combustible Mind wrote something earlier – where in response to a question l shot out to the universe – she answered ‘life’ so simple and yet so true – it’s life. I myself say ‘l have survived much’, but of course the answer you have given here.

          I am a blessed survivor who has lived life. There is the answer.

          Thank you Myth – ‘blessed’ yes l guess that must be it.

          1. Perfect answer dear man! And you’re welcome!🙂 I too am a blessed survivor. An in love with my life and love everyone connected to it! I believe that if anyone who has experienced one single moment of peace, has been blessed! Lovely quote from Melanie of Sparks. Thank you for sharing her words! And Rory your poetry is written in perfection! 🙂

    1. Hey Gary, thanks l am glad you are still enjoying the read. . No, you are quite right – real life nothing like the movies at all, way harder.

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