Loving Differently: What My Relationships Looked Like As a Woman with Mild, High Functioning Autism

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I’ve loved and been loved throughout my life.

Looking back at my first love in high school, and every relationship since, there’s a thread running through them all: I was often misunderstood.

Some of that came from being a woman with mild, high-functioning autism. And some of it, I believe, came from something much darker—the witchcraft and manipulation in my family, especially from my mother.

Also being the family scapegoat put a target on my back, so being seen was never a good thing. To this day I have a love/hate relationship with being noticed or seen.

This post is about the first part: how autism shaped the way I love, and how that has been both a gift and a challenge.

Autistic Women Love Deeply, But Differently

Autism in women often looks different than it does in men. Many of us are maskers. We learn to copy social cues, mirror emotions, and “perform” what we think we’re supposed to do in relationships.

On the surface, it can look like we’re doing just fine. But there’s an invisible gap between what we feel and what the other person sees.

       •      When I loved someone, I loved them fully: loyally, honestly, without games.

       •      But my way of showing it wasn’t always what they expected. I didn’t always “flirt” the right way. I didn’t do coy or hard-to-get. That’s very unnatural to me.

       •      And when I needed time alone to recharge, they sometimes thought I was pulling away, when I wasn’t at all.

That misunderstanding hurts both sides. They didn’t get the reassurance they wanted; And I didn’t get to show my love in the way that felt natural.

When Directness Feels Like “Too Much”

Autistic women often communicate directly. We say what we mean.

In high school, when I fell in love for the first time, I didn’t do the vague, hint-dropping thing most girls my age were doing. There was a lot of complex dynamics going on around me socially, so my instinct was to stay quiet because it was overwhelming. But I cared. Deeply. And I was present.

I wish I was able to say more.

However, that quiet intensity sometimes scared people off. I think some people were confused by the quietness or thought I was holding back.

Some partners wanted more from me-they didn’t always understand my quiet, shy way of showing love.

 The Weight of Expectations

Society expects women to be natural mind-readers: to anticipate every mood, every need, and to always express love the “right” way.

For autistic women, that expectation feels crushing. We might not be able pick up on subtle signals. We might need someone to tell us what they need instead of hinting. Because I will not understand unless you directly tell me.

I am a pro at seeing patterns, but I need the formula first, if you will. Tell me what I’m looking at or what I need to understand about you and how you feel about me the first time. And then I can accurately assess what’s going on without you telling me later because I’m gifted at recognizing patterns of behavior.

Sometime partners thought I didn’t care. But the truth was: I cared so much, I just needed a different language for it.

And Then There’s the Witchcraft

I can’t leave this out.

Because even when there was love—pure, real love—there were forces working against it.

My mother’s witchcraft, her manipulation, her interference, all of that created invisible roadblocks in my relationships.

So, it wasn’t just that I loved differently. It was that sometimes the very love I was offering was under attack.

Thank God, I have since broken those weird spells my mother put on me and the men I’ve loved.

Here’s What I Know

       •      My love is steady. It doesn’t play games.

       •      My love needs clear communication. It thrives on honesty, not guessing.

       •      My love might not always “look” like other people’s love, but it’s deep, loyal, and real.

For years, I blamed myself for the heartbreaks, thinking I wasn’t “normal” enough, “easy” enough, or “lovable” enough.

But the truth is: I was misunderstood. Not unworthy.

And now, I choose to see my way of loving as beautifully different.

To anyone loving (or wanting to love) a woman with mild autism

Be patient. Be clear. Don’t expect her to read your mind—tell her what you need.

And know this: if she’s chosen you, if she’s letting you in, she’s not halfway about it. She loves you with everything she has.