"Dad! Now your life makes sense!" With tears in her eyes, and her Mom's eyes just as wet, they both hugged me in the Doctor's Office. My other daughter was holding back no tears at all on her FACETIME link. They were there for me, as they always have been. My Advocated. And that is the day I got my Formal Diagnosis as being ASD. I was 63 years old.
Today I read about some possible insights to how Autism may come to be posted in a Science Paper put up by Lt. Colonel Charlie Brown. Since I kinda have some "skin in the game", I thought I would post a bit about what it is like to be Autistic but functioning enough to work in the real world. Sort of. Just read my Profile and you can see partially the problem. I mean who goes in and out of Active Duty, Reserve Units, and National Guard Units, willy nilly, with no plan, direction, or order? Me. I should have become an E7 at least, but couldn't even understand the basics of following a career. I set myself back a half dozen times. Just like I went to Seven colleges before I graduated from one! 200 credit hours and no Degree? Deans list at Five Schools, and Flunked out of two? Autism on display.
The patterns are there. But personal glimpses are more telling. So here are just two:
1) I don't get sarcasm. It took me decades to recognize it. If you told me I was a "F*cking Genius"- I took you at your word. Walking around all day feeling good about myself. Never realizing it meant the exact opposite. My daughters actually thanked me for not being sarcastic. So that was cool. But that literal part is literally true. It is why in Basic Training I ran around looking for "Shot Group Tighteners" amusing all the Range Officers and NCO"s to no end. My IQ is high, but it never dawned on me that there wasn't such a thing. Nor could I imagine someone enjoying watching me squirm as everyone was out of Shot Group Tighteners.

2) And here, in an everyday example is why so many people think we are, well, azzholes. Say you are in a grocery store, and you see a woman you think is pregnant. So you smile and say:
"When are you due?"
She replies (Probably very coldly): "I...am...not...pregnant."
Being a normal person, you would probably apologize, turn bright red, and beat feet out of the situation. Normal. Embarrassed, and sorry.
Not me.
I would have followed up with:
"You are not pregnant? Is it a tumor?"
"What ?! No, I do not have a tumor!"
Then I would break out in a smile and say:
"Oh, that's great! You are not pregnant. It is not Cancer, or a Tumor. That means you are just fat. You can fix that with a little diet and exercise. Wonderful."
The I would just stand there dumbfounded as she either burst into tears, or flared into an angry rant. One I deserved once I understood...which was usually 24 hours later. As my Kathy told the kids when they were growing up: "You have to give Dad a day or two to work it out, He will come around." Sometimes, I did.

Now I follow that humor Columnist from Chicago's advice "Dave something, I have forgotten his name.):
"Never mention a woman might be pregnant unless you can see the feet dangling from her body."
That makes sense to an Autistic kid like me. And it makes me laugh.