An Autistic Considers Impermanence
Accepting a life shaped by change, loss, and death.
A partner and I have seen each other for going on three years. At the outset of the relationship, our sexual connection was the strongest I’d ever known. We’d fuck five or seven times in a single day back then, pulling one another away from the kitchen stove or a work meeting to collapse into the bed, dampening the sheets with our sweat.
We would have sex for hours sometimes, our bodies drilling away and ignoring the leg cramps, my mouth pressed into their lap for whole run-time of Morbius. It was kinky, all-consuming sex, during which we traded words about possession and eternal love.
It’s not like that anymore. Few relationships are for long. Even back then, I realized what a blessing it was for the intensity to last more than a year, and I recognized the practical limits of our 24–7 power dynamic. In its time, the relationship settled into something far more comfortable and realistic.
We became more independent, spent time apart and then rejoined one another, established a pattern of salmon and broccoli for dinner on Monday, and Dunkin Donuts for breakfast on Fridays. They cared for me after top surgery, and I rushed to the hospital when a student punched them in the face. We played Fortnite on the couch on weekdays…
