Autistic People Need Clarity in Dating

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I used to think “clarity” was just… a preference.

Like: some people like pineapple on pizza, some people don’t.Some people like texting, some people hate it.Some people like labels, some people think labels are cringe.

And sure—sometimes clarity is just a style.

But for a lot of autistic people (hi), clarity is not a style. It’s not a cute personality quirk. It’s not “being intense.” It’s not “overthinking.”

It’s safety equipment.

And the reason I’m writing this isn’t to shame anyone for being ambiguous. Most people aren’t trying to harm us. Most people are just doing the thing our culture teaches: keep it light, keep it vague, keep options open, avoid hard conversations, avoid being “the bad guy,” avoid saying “no” directly because it feels rude.

But the problem is: what feels “polite” in one nervous system can feel like a trap in another.

And autistic people get caught in that trap a lot.

Not because we’re stupid.Not because we’re naïve little woodland creatures wandering into the big scary world.Not because we don’t understand that some people want casual things.

But because we tend to take people at their word. We tend to treat closeness as meaningful. We tend to treat attention as information. We tend to hear “maybe” and think it’s a door—not a shrug. We tend to hear “I’m not sure” and think that means “I’m still deciding,” not “I’m trying to avoid the discomfort of saying no.”

And when your heart is wired like mine—when attachment isn’t a game, but an embodied chemical event—ambiguity doesn’t feel like romance. It feels like slowly walking into a room where the floor might not be there.

So, this is part confession, part PSA, part “please, for the love of all that is holy, stop doing this to people.”

Not just to autistic people.

To everyone.

Because ambiguity doesn’t only break autistic hearts. It breaks human hearts.

Autistic folks just tend to bleed faster because we don’t have the same cultural armor for it.

The hidden social rule that breaks us

There’s a rule in modern dating and friendship culture that nobody says out loud:

You’re allowed to take what you want from someone as long as you never explicitly promised anything.

You can spend weeks flirting, leaning on someone for emotional support, talking every day, and trading vulnerabilities in a way that naturally creates closeness—close enough that the other person starts to build an honest picture of “us” in their head, because what else are they supposed to do when the connection keeps being fed like that?

And then, when it’s inconvenient, you can disappear into the fog of:

• “I’m not ready.”

• “I’m just busy.”

• “I’m not looking for anything serious.”

• “I thought we were just having fun.”

• “You misread it.”

• “You assumed.”

• “You’re too intense.”

And culturally, we treat that as normal. Sometimes we even treat it as mature.

But to an autistic person—especially an autistic person with attachment trauma—that rule is basically:

You are allowed to emotionally profit from my sincerity as long as you never say the quiet part out loud.

And because autistic people are often trained to be “easy,” “low maintenance,” and “not a problem,” we end up tolerating vagueness longer than we should. We keep waiting for the “real talk” where the other person finally clarifies what they want.

We keep waiting because we assume clarity is coming—that people mean what they imply, and that if someone doesn’t want us, they’ll just say so. And sometimes they don’t… sometimes they can’t… and sometimes they won’t.

“But I didn’t want to hurt you.”

I believe you.

Seriously. Most people don’t want to hurt others.

The issue is that avoiding discomfort and avoiding harm are not the same thing.

A lot of people avoid directness because directness feels cruel to them. They think saying “I only want casual” will make them the villain.

So instead they do the soft version:

They keep the connection warm enough to get attention, affection, flirting, emotional intimacy… but not warm enough to trigger accountability. They try to ride the middle.

And the middle is where autistic people drown.

Because autistic people often don’t read “soft no’s” as no. We read them as uncertainty. We read them as room for repair. We read them as context needed. We read them as a puzzle we can solve if we are patient and kind and careful enough. That’s not “being clingy.” That’s a brain trying to map a reality that is intentionally being left unmapped.

The part people don’t like to talk about: exploitation

I’m going to say something blunt, because it needs to be said:

Sometimes it’s not accidental.

Sometimes people really do seek out autistic people because we’re earnest, loyal, direct, and hungry for consistency. Sometimes people notice that we’re the type to show up—deeply—and they take advantage of that.

Not always in a cartoon-villain way. Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes it’s unconscious. Sometimes it’s “I like being wanted.” Sometimes it’s “I like the attention.” Sometimes it’s “I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Sometimes it’s “I need someone to make me feel desired.”

And autistic people can be perfect for that, because we can give a lot of devotion before we realize we’re not being met.

We can mistake intermittent reinforcement for intimacy.

We can interpret “they keep coming back” as “they care,” when it’s actually “they like the way I make them feel.”

Again, not because we’re stupid—because we’re human, and the brain bonds the way brains do: to hope, to attention, to the felt rhythm of someone being there. The nervous system doesn’t speak in “well technically they never promised…” It speaks in the simplest language it knows: they were here, then they were gone, and I don’t know why.

Clarity is not control

Here’s the thing I wish more people understood:

When an autistic person asks for clarity, we’re not trying to trap you.We’re not trying to force a commitment.We’re not trying to “define the relationship” like a sitcom villain.

We are trying to do informed consent with our emotions.

Because “casual” isn’t casual for all of us.

For some of us, flirting is an attachment trigger.For some of us, sex isn’t recreational.For some of us, daily texting isn’t “just chatting,” it’s co-regulation.For some of us, “maybe” is a door we will keep standing in until our feet go numb.

So when we ask:

• “What are you looking for?”

• “Is this friends, flirting, dating?”

• “Are you emotionally available right now?”

• “Are you open to building toward something?”

• “What does ‘casual’ mean to you?”

• “Are you okay with me catching feelings? Because I might.”

That is not manipulation.

That is us trying to protect everyone involved.

Because here’s the twist: clarity protects you, too.

It protects you from having to do damage control later— from becoming the “bad guy” in a story you never meant to write, from resentment and guilt, from the kind of messy misunderstandings that could’ve been prevented with a single honest sentence up front.

And if your brain is already thinking, “Okay but what’s in it for me?”—great. Let’s talk about that.

The selfish benefit of being clear:

People often don’t change unless it benefits them, so here are the benefits:

Being clear saves you time

If you only want casual, and you say that up front, you stop attracting people who want serious. Less drama. Less emotional labor.

Being clear makes you more trustworthy

Even if someone doesn’t like your answer, they’ll remember that you were honest. That matters. Reputation matters. Integrity matters.

Being clear reduces emotional blowback

A lot of “ghosting” or slow fades happen because someone is trying to avoid the conversation. But avoiding the conversation doesn’t avoid the consequences. It just delays them and makes them worse.

Being clear improves your relationships

Even casual relationships are better when both people understand what they are. “Casual” doesn’t have to mean careless. It can mean honest and light and consensual.

How non-autistic people can communicate better (scripts included)

You don’t need a psychology degree. You just need words.

Here are some scripts that are direct without being cruel:

• “I like flirting, but I’m not emotionally available for a relationship.”

• “I’m open to casual connection, not building toward partnership.”

• “I’m dealing with a lot right now, and I can’t be consistent.”

• “I don’t want to lead you on, so I need to say this plainly…”

• “I enjoy talking to you, but my capacity is limited and I may be slow to respond.”

• “I like you, but I’m not in a place to deepen this.”

• “I’m looking for attention and fun, not commitment.” (This is honest! People can consent to that!)

• “If you tend to attach easily, I’m probably not a safe fit right now.”(This one is incredibly kind, and I wish more people used it.)

And if you realize someone is catching feelings and you can’t meet them there:

• “I care about you, but I can’t return that romantically. I don’t want you investing in something I can’t offer.”

Notice what none of these scripts do:

• They don’t blame the other person.

• They don’t call them “too much.”

• They don’t moralize.

• They don’t turn clarity into conflict.

They just… tell the truth.

How autistic people can protect ourselves (without becoming numb)

This is the harder part, because I don’t want the lesson to be “autistic people should just stop feeling.”

That’s not the goal.

The goal is: stop bleeding for people who can’t hold what you offer.

Here are the strategies that have actually helped me:

1) Ask for the lane early

Not as a demand—just as information.

“Before I get attached, I need to know what lane we’re in: friends, flirting, dating, or casual/FWB?”

If they refuse to answer, that is an answer.

2) Translate “vibes” into definitions

When someone says “casual,” ask:

“What does casual mean to you? No feelings? No consistency? No labels? No future? Just texting? Occasional flirting?”

Because “casual” is one word that can mean twelve different realities.

3) Believe patterns more than promises

If someone says they like you but never makes time, believe the pattern; if they say they want closeness but only show up at midnight, believe the pattern; if they keep promising “later” forever, believe the pattern.

4) Don’t confuse intensity with availability

Someone can be intensely affectionate and still unavailable.Some people are very good at closeness in short bursts.

That doesn’t mean they can hold your heart.

5) Build a boundary for your attachment pathways

If you attach through flirting or sexual energy, then your boundary might be:

“I don’t do sexual or romantic content with someone unless we’ve defined what this is.”

That’s not prudish. That’s just a seatbelt.

6) Don’t negotiate with ambiguity

If your nervous system is spiraling, it’s often because the situation is undefined. Don’t try to “solve” undefined. Define it, or step back.

A mantra I use:

“If it’s unclear, it’s unsafe for my heart.”

7) Don’t shame yourself for bonding

You are not weak because you attach. You are not broken because you love deeply. You are not “too much.”

You just need people who speak clearly enough to hold you.

A world where clarity is normal would be better for everyone

This is why I call this advocacy.

Because the problem isn’t “autistic people are sensitive.”The problem is a culture that treats emotional ambiguity as politeness and treats clarity as neediness.

But clarity is not neediness.

Clarity is consent.Clarity is harm reduction.Clarity is respect.

And yes—clarity benefits autistic people disproportionately, because we often can’t safely navigate the implied social maze. But it also benefits non-autistic people, because it reduces guilt, conflict, drama, and misunderstandings.

It benefits the anxious avoidant who keeps ghosting because confrontation scares them, the people-pleaser who says “maybe” when they mean “no,” the lonely person who maintains a roster of half-connections because real vulnerability feels terrifying, and the person who’s genuinely overloaded but doesn’t know how to say “I don’t have capacity” without feeling like a monster.

Clarity doesn’t make you a monster.

Clarity makes you honest.

And honesty is kinder than leaving someone to translate your fog with their own trauma.

So if you’re non-autistic and you take nothing else from this:

Say what you mean earlier—before they’re already attached, before it’s already messy, before they’re trembling and trying to pretend they’re fine. Earlier.

And if you’re autistic and you’re reading this with that familiar ache in your chest—the ache of “why does this keep happening to me?”—please hear me:

You are not broken for needing clarity—you’re asking for the kind of communication that should have been normal in the first place, and you’re allowed to walk away from anyone who treats that need like a problem, because a relationship that requires you to stay confused in order to keep it isn’t a relationship… it’s a slot machine, and you deserve better than clicks.