Romantic Feelings and Limerence in Autism Spectrum Disorder Level 1 (Aspergers)

- Guest author
Last update 17 Jul 2025
Reading time 36 mins

⚠️ Blog Editors Note / Disclaimer This article is not part of my field of studies or research. It emerged out of a simple discussion which lead to this small summary. While I am not a medical expert, this summary has been edited to the best of my ability.

Romantic love is a powerful emotion for most people, but its expression and perception can differ markedly between autistic individuals (specifically those with Autism Spectrum Disorder Level 1, formerly known as Asperger’s syndrome) and neurotypical individuals. Limerence - the state of intense infatuation or obsessive romantic fixation - is often used to describe the overwhelming romantic feelings some experience. Autistic people with Level 1 ASD are fully capable of feeling deep romantic love, yet their feelings are frequently misunderstood or dismissed by neurotypical peers as “not real” or inappropriate and summed up under this term. This article explores:

The discussion draws on recent peer-reviewed research, clinical observations, and first-hand autistic perspectives, emphasizing an autism-affirming viewpoint.

Autistic vs. Neurotypical Experiences of Romantic Love

Numerous studies have debunked the old stereotype that autistic people are uninterested in romance or incapable of love[1]. In fact, many autistic adults yearn for connection at least as much as neurotypicals do, and some research even suggests they can experience certain aspects of love more intensely[1,2]. A 2021 study on love and neurodevelopmental traits found that adults with autistic traits reported passionate love levels that were no lower than those of non-autistic adults[2]. In that study, having more ASD-related traits was actually associated with greater intensity of passionate romantic feelings. In other words, being on the spectrum does not blunt the capacity to fall deeply in love - if anything, autistic passion can be equally strong, or even amplified, compared to neurotypical norms. Autistic author and researcher Steve Silberman notes that a growing body of work “push[es] against [the] stereotype” of the autistic loner, showing that many autistic people crave meaningful relationships and intimacy[1].

However, the way autistic individuals perceive and navigate romantic emotions often differs from the neurotypical pattern. One hallmark of autism is intense focus or “special interests”. It’s well documented that an autistic person’s special interest can sometimes be another person - effectively turning a crush or romantic interest into an all-consuming focus[3,4]. Clinicians note that in adolescence, what might start as a typical teenage crush can reach an unusual intensity in someone with ASD L1, sometimes along with persistent behaviors (constant messaging, attempts to be near the person, etc.) that outsiders might misinterpret as obsession[4]. As one therapist explains, “for an autistic person, the object of their romantic interest might become a special interest, leading to persistent thoughts and behaviors centered around this individual”[3]. Autistic individuals often describe falling in love as an “all or nothing” experience - they may fall hard and fast, with emotions that dominate their inner world. A neurodivergent author in Psychology Today described it as living life in “high definition” - every feeling magnified - such that “falling in love is an equally intense experience” for her, made even more amplified and intensified by her autism and ADHD neurobiology[5]. Indeed, autism-related differences in brain chemistry and emotional regulation may contribute to the intensity; for example, research has noted atypical levels of “love hormones” and neurotransmitters (dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin) in autistic people, potentially heightening the infatuation response[6].

Another difference lies in emotional awareness and interpretation. Many autistic individuals have alexithymia (difficulty identifying or describing their own emotions)[6], which can make it confusing to distinguish limerence (infatuation) from deeper love. They may sincerely feel “in love” but struggle to label the feeling or might only recognize the obsessive qualities later[6]. Conversely, they might intellectually idealize someone without fully registering the emotional nuances. This can lead to a sort of cognitive love that is intense but internally confusing. Neurotypicals, by contrast, often rely on a socially shared script of what “being in love” should feel like and how it should be expressed, which autistics might not intuitively share.

Perhaps most importantly, differences in social cognition and communication impact how love is experienced between autistics and neurotypicals. Autistic people tend to focus on literal information and may miss subtle cues or “playbook” behaviors that neurotypicals use in romantic contexts[3]. Early in a relationship, a neurotypical person might “play hard to get” or expect indirect flirting, whereas an autistic person is more likely to express interest in a straightforward way - or, alternatively, fail to pick up on flirtation from others. They might also misinterpret signals, sometimes believing a deeper mutual connection exists based on literal or logical readings of interactions that the other person never intended[3]. A neurotypical might send polite, friendly signals to indicate only casual interest, but an autistic admirer, interpreting words at face value and missing unspoken subtext, could mistake politeness for reciprocated affection[3]. This mismatch can “lead to misunderstandings or differences in how each person perceives the relationship”[3]. In short, the autistic individual’s genuine feelings may not align with the neurotypical partners expectations or awareness, sowing confusion on both sides. This phenomenon is part of the “double empathy problem”, which posits that autistic and neurotypical people often struggle equally to understand each other’s emotions and intentions[1] - it’s a mutual communication gap, not a one-sided deficit. Neurotypical partners might misconstrue an autistic persons reserved affect or atypical body language as lack of interest, when in fact the autistic partner may be very much in love but simply not showing it in the expected way[1]. Conversely, an autistic partners very intense declarations of love or unusual romantic gestures could seem “too much” from the neurotypical perspective. The following table summarizes some key differences commonly reported between autistic and neurotypical experiences of love and infatuation:

Aspect of Romance Autistic Individuals (ASD L1) Neurotypical Individuals
Emotional intensity Feelings of infatuation can be extremely intense, sometimes all-consuming (akin to limerence). Autistic people may hyperfocus on a love interest with unusual intensity[3]. Research shows their passionate love is equally strong as in neurotypicals, and autistic traits can even correlate with greater passion[2]. Many report experiencing emotions “in high definition,” amplifying the thrills (and sorrows) of love[5]. Feelings of passion can be strong but are often tempered by social norms. Intense limerent crushes occur in neurotypicals too, but culturally people are encouraged to moderate “obsessive” displays and invalidate them or label them as invalid feelings as well as keep away from people who intensively show interest. The intensity may thus appear more regulated or hidden in public.
Focus and attachment Tend to hyperfocus on loved ones, sometimes treating the person as a “special interest”. They might spend large amounts of time thinking about or trying to be around the person[3]. Attachments can be highly persistent, and letting go of a loved one (or unrequited love) is notoriously hard or unresolveable. Change and transitions are difficult, so an ended relationship may be grieved for a long time or forever, with feelings that “nothing else matters” during limerence[7,8]. Typically able to balance interest in a partner with other aspects of life. While breakups are painful for anyone, neurotypical social scripts encourage moving on and seeking support from friends. There is an expectation to “not dwell” too long on unrequited love or to avoid “clinginess”, so they may redirect focus more readily.
Social cue perception May miss or misread subtle flirting and feedback. For example, might not realize when interest is not reciprocated, due to difficulty interpreting body language, tone, or implied hints[3]. Similarly, their own expressions of affection might be unusual or off-timing (e.g. overly blunt declarations). This gap in social intuition often leads to misunderstandings about the state of the relationship[[3]. Generally attuned to common flirting behaviors and can read indications of interest or discomfort more intuitively. Communication follows shared cultural norms (e.g. knowing when someone is playing “hard to get” or when “no” actually means no). Neurotypicals are more likely to adjust their romantic pursuit based on subtle feedback, without needing explicit verbal cues.
Expression of affection May have atypical ways of showing love. Some with ASD struggle with or feel uncomfortable about typical romantic gestures - for instance, they might find hugging or kissing overstimulating or “too much” sensory input[4]. They might express care through routines, intellectual sharing, or honesty rather than frequent “I love you”s or physical affection. Or they may just share stuff they found the other party might find interesting (sharing memes, bakery, small gifts, etc.). Emotions might be expressed in intense bursts or through special interests (e.g. talking at length about the loved one). If they mask their feelings, others could miss that they care (not that they would do either if they knew). Follows conventional displays of affection (holding hands, saying endearments, giving compliments or gifts at expected moments, etc.). Neurotypical adults usually learned during adolescence how to both give and receive affection in socially accepted ways. They tend to expect reciprocal expressions of love (like saying “I love you” back, or comforting with a hug), and they may feel secure when those norms are met.
Response to conflict or rejection Rejection can be devastating and even traumatic. Autistic individuals often experience social rejection more acutely - a concept known as rejection sensitive dysphoria (RSD) when extreme - meaning even a mild rebuff can cause intense pain[9]. They might have difficulty “letting go” of a failed relationship; breakups can trigger emotional overload (grief, anger, confusion) that lingers longer than in neurotypicals[8] or even forever when the relationship is not fixed. Many autistics, especially women, tend to blame themselves when relationships falter, harming their self-esteem[1]. Alternatively, some might abruptly withdraw to protect themselves, leading to isolation[1,8]. Depression and anxiety are common outcomes of repeated heartbreak or rejection[8,9]. Rejection is painful for anyone, but neurotypical culture often frames breakups as a chance to “grow” or find a better match. NT individuals may seek support from friends, who encourage them to move on (which makes no sense to autistic individuals usually). They might still feel deep sadness or anger, but societal norms validate these feelings only for a time - extended pining or “obsessing” is discouraged. Thus, while many NTs certainly experience limerence or heartbreak, they are generally expected to regain independence and start dating again relatively sooner.

As the table suggests, autistic romance often involves a unique combination of intensity and atypical expression. It is important to stress that autistic people do love just as deeply - their way of showing it or processing it may diverge from the norm, but the core emotions are very real. Unfortunately, these differences can set the stage for misunderstanding and stigma from the neurotypical world.

“Letting Go” vs. Persistent Attachment: Norms and Neurology

One notable friction point is how each group handles emotional attachment and detachment. In mainstream neurotypical dating culture, there is a strong emphasis on not coming on “too strong” and on being able to “let go” if affection is not returned or a relationship ends. People are often advised to maintain emotional boundaries, practice a degree of playing it cool (especially early on), and - if faced with unrequited love or a breakup - to “move on” for the sake of emotional health. Prolonged pining or overt obsession is typically seen as unhealthy in neurotypical contexts. Friends might say things like “You have to get over her/him” or “There are plenty of fish in the sea”, reinforcing a social norm that one should release an attachment that isn’t working out. Emotional detachment is thus culturally encouraged as a sign of resilience and maturity in love, at least after an appropriate grieving period.

For many autistic individuals, these neurotypical norms around detachment clash with their own natural attachment style. It is not uncommon for an autistic person to form a very intense, enduring bond to someone they love or admire - a bond that does not loosen with time or logic. Neurologically, autism is associated with a monotropic attention style (intense focus on a narrow range of interests)[10,11]. When the interest is a person, the autistic brain may simply lock on in a way that makes “just let it go” as unfeasible as asking someone to drop their lifelong passion. An autistic individual might continue to feel strong love or fascination with someone long after a rejection or breakup, not out of willful stubbornness but because their mind repeatedly returns to that person like a needle stuck on a record. This persistence is partly driven by the same trait that underlies autistic special interests - an inherent difficulty in shifting attention away from things that have become deeply embedded in one’s routine or identity[12,13].

Moreover, autistic people often struggle with transitions and change in general. The end of a relationship represents a massive change in routine and expected life trajectory. While anyone might find a breakup destabilizing, autistic individuals experience this disruption especially acutely. They thrive on predictability and stable patterns[8](#ref8)]; a breakup shatters that pattern, leading to intense anxiety and a sense of being lost or disoriented in one’s own life[8](#ref8)]. This can manifest as an exceptionally prolonged grieving process for the relationship - they may replay moments over and over, fixating on “what went wrong” or holding onto the hope of reconciliation far longer than a neurotypical person might consider normal[6] or even forever. One autistic adult described limerence as feeling like “an illness” - with lovesick obsessiveness causing sleepless nights, constant rumination, and an inability to “move on” until the feeling has run its course or utterly exhausted them. For the autistic individual, the idea of simply finding a new romantic interest as a distraction may not be appealing or even possible; their attachment is singular and tenacious and any social relationships are very hard to achieve so it’s in many cases even impossible to do so.

Neurotypical observers often find this level of attachment puzzling or concerning. What might be seen as “healthy detachment” in an NT context (i.e. being able to date casually, or to accept a breakup and start seeing others) might be foreign to an autistic person who invests their emotions fully in one individual. Autistic advocates frequently emphasize that their love is loyal and steadfast, not fickle - which can be a positive trait - but it also means heartbreak can feel catastrophic and not easily soothed by rebounds or diversions. In social forums and personal accounts, many on the spectrum report that it takes them much longer to recover from a broken heart than their neurotypical peers[14] or that they even never ever recover. They might avoid new relationships for years or forever after a painful experience, due to both enduring feelings for the past partner and fear of repeating the trauma of rejection. This contrasts with the societal expectation (especially for young adults) to eventually “get back out there.”

Another factor is emotional regulation through fantasy. Because real-life relationships are fraught with unpredictable ups and downs, some autistic individuals cope by retreating into fantasy - essentially staying in a limerent state as a form of emotional self-regulation[3]. For example, rather than risk actual rejection, an autistic person might prefer to imagine scenarios with their crush, keeping the feelings alive internally. A neurodiverse-affirming therapist notes that “autistic individuals sometimes use the fantasy of limerence to self-regulate and prefer this to having the relationship come to fruition, as it inevitably won’t live up to the limerent fantasy.”[3] In other words, holding onto the idealized attachment - even if it’s one-sided or unrequited - can feel safer and more satisfying than trying to start anew with someone else. Neurotypical norms would deem this unhealthy (living in a daydream rather than “moving on”), but for the autistic person this fantasy provides comfort and a sense of connection without the confusing social demands of a real relationship. It is a coping mechanism born from the discrepancy between their intense feelings and the often-painful outcomes of trying to realize those feelings in the neurotypical dating world.

All of this means that thought to be well-meaning advice from neurotypicals to “just let it go” or “you need to stop obsessing over them” can be ineffective or even harmful. From the autistic vantage point, such advice feels dismissive of the depth of their love and the genuine neurological hold it has on them. What would rather be needed is to achieve success with the given topic. The next section will explore how these autistic expressions of love - persistent, intense, and sometimes nonconforming to social expectations - are too often invalidated or pathologized by others, and the damage that can do.

Invalidation of Autistic Love as “Not Real” or “Obsessive”

Despite the authenticity of their feelings, autistic people frequently encounter skepticism or outright invalidation of their romantic love experiences. Because autistic displays of love can look different from the norm (or because they may seem too intense or too sparse to the neurotypical eye), others may dismiss those feelings as if they don’t count as “real” love. This invalidation comes in several forms:

The cumulative effect of these invalidations is corrosive. When your heartfelt emotions are continually treated as “wrong”, “weird”, or non-existent, it’s hard not to internalize that message. Autistic individuals report feeling gaslighted about their own emotions - i.e., being told “it’s not love, it’s just your autism acting up”, which sows self-doubt about one’s emotional reality. Society often pathologizes normal feelings in autistics: a neurotypical teen with a crush is seen as cute or dramatic, whereas an autistic teen with a crush might be seen as obsessive or naive. This double standard denies autistic people the normal social recognition and support that should accompany romantic development. When an autistic person falls in love, they may not get the same validation (“Ah, you must really care about them!”) that a neurotypical might; instead they might be met with skepticism (“Are you sure it’s not just a fixation?”). Clinically, too, literature has historically focused more on problematic aspects (like inappropriate sexual behaviors or infatuations leading to legal trouble[4]) rather than on positive acknowledgement of autistic love. While safety and boundaries are important, so is recognizing the fundamental humanity of autistic affections. Dismissing their love as “not real” or telling them they’re just confused not only invalidates the person, it also robs them of the chance to learn and grow through the experience of love as others do.

Impact on Self-Worth and Mental Health

Repeated emotional invalidation and social rejection in romantic contexts take a serious toll on autistic individuals psychological well-being. By adolescence and adulthood, many autistic people have endured a long history of rejections - from unreciprocated crushes, awkward breakups, peer mockery, or even cruel pranks (e.g. being asked out as a joke)[4]. Each incident reinforces the notion that they are “not good at” relationships, or worse, not worthy of love. Over time, this can crystalize into chronic low self-esteem and hopelessness regarding one’s romantic prospects.

Research and clinical observations confirm that chronic rejection and social isolation are key contributors to the high rates of depression and suicidal ideation among autistic adults[17]. One summary puts it plainly: “Chronic rejection and social isolation can lead to depression, [to] which autistic adults are especially vulnerable”. Being told again and again - implicitly or explicitly - that one’s feelings are invalid or unwelcome can lead an autistic person to conclude that they themselves are fundamentally broken or unlovable. For example, an autistic woman who was frequently belittled for her intense romantic daydreams might start to think, “Maybe the way I love people *is wrong. I’m just a crazy stalker type”.* This self-stigma undermines any sense of self-worth. Tony Attwood notes that self-respect in young people with Asperger’s is often adversely affected by being rejected, ridiculed and tormented by peers during the formative teen years[17]. Those peers might be the very crushes and friends whose acceptance the autistic teen sought. By adulthood, many on the spectrum carry wounds from these experiences: a deep well of insecurity about their desirability and a fear that any attempt at love will end in humiliation.

One devastating outcome is clinical depression. Autistic adults have a much higher prevalence of depressive disorders than the general population, and social pain is a major trigger. Autistic people who feel alienated in the social and romantic arena often develop a bleak outlook on life. They may struggle to envision a happy future that includes fulfilling relationships. In the context of limerence, the extreme highs of infatuation can swing into extreme lows of despair if the love is unrequited or ends badly[6]. As described, autistic individuals prone to rejection sensitive dysphoria experience heartbreak more intensely or for longer periods, which can lead to greater emotional distress[15]. When those intense feelings meet with invalidation (“it was never real anyway”) or outright rejection, the emotional crash can be brutal. It is not uncommon for autistic individuals to spiral into clinical depression and suicidal ideations after a failed romance, particularly if they blame themselves. Feelings of worthlessness (“no one will ever love someone as weird as me”) and profound loneliness can set in[8].

Another impact is alienation and withdrawal. After repeated negative experiences, many autistic people start to retreat from the whole enterprise of dating and love. They become disillusioned, developing a worldview that relationships are a realm in which they cannot succeed or where they will never be understood. Some decide that it’s safer not to even try. This can manifest as voluntary isolation - avoiding social or romantic opportunities to protect oneself from further hurt. While solitude is not inherently bad, this kind of withdrawal often isn’t born of true preference but of fear and pain. Tragically, it can reinforce a cycle of loneliness. An autistic person may yearn for connection but feel it’s futile to reach out, so they remain alone, which further deepens their depression and sense of being fundamentally apart from the world. Studies on loneliness in autistic adults consistently show a strong link between feeling socially disconnected and experiencing mental health struggles like anxiety and depression[18,19].

For some, the repeated invalidation of their love even alters their core worldview. They might develop cynical or fatalistic beliefs about relationships - for example, believing that love is only for neurotypicals, or that what others call “love” is a shallow emotion they (the autistic) will never be allowed to participate in. Autistic writer Monique Botha has described how societal rejection can lead autistics to feel that the world is not made for them, fostering a kind of existential alienation. In the romantic domain, this might mean feeling like a perpetual outsider watching others pair up and experience things they can only imagine. In extreme cases, this alienation and despair can contribute to suicidal ideation. Alarmingly, autistic adults have a much higher rate of suicide attempts and thoughts than the general population, and lack of social support and intimacy is a known risk factor[1]. Mournet et al. (2023) argue that ensuring autistic people have supportive social connections - including validating their need for love and companionship - is crucial, because those connections can literally be protective against suicide[1].

On the flip side of hopelessness, some autistic individuals go to the other extreme of self-blame and overcompensation in relationships. As Sedgewick and Pellicano found in their research on autistic women, when relationship difficulties arise these women often assume they are entirely to blame for the problem (and do whatever they can to resolve it)[1]. This can lead to staying in unhealthy or one-sided relationships far too long, trying to fix themselves to make it work. An autistic person with low self-worth might tolerate disrespect or even abuse from a partner, internalizing the idea that they have to earn love because they are inherently flawed. Combined with difficulties picking up warning signs of exploitation, this makes some autistic adults (again, especially women) vulnerable to abusive or manipulative partners[5,1]. They may feel they don’t deserve better or fear no one else would accept them, a direct consequence of years of having their feelings and personhood devalued. Thus, the harm of invalidation is twofold - it can drive people out of relationships into isolation, or trap them in harmful relationships due to shattered self-esteem.

In summary, the persistent negation of autistic people’s romantic feelings - by peers, family, clinicians, or society at large - inflicts real psychological damage. Depression, anxiety, and even trauma can result from the combination of heartbreak and the message that ones heartbreak isn’t legitimate. Alienation grows when one is made to feel like an alien for how one loves. And self-worth erodes under the weight of repeated rejection, sometimes to the point of clinical crisis. What should be a normal part of human experience (falling in love, learning and growing in relationships) instead becomes a minefield of shame and pain for many autistic individuals. This highlights an urgent need for greater awareness and support.

Towards Understanding and Acceptance

Addressing these issues requires changes in both social attitudes and clinical practice. First and foremost is recognition: recognizing that autistic people’s romantic feelings are real and valid, even if expressed differently. Just because someone with ASD falls in love in an unconventional way - or maintains affection longer than socially typical - does not make their feelings childish or pathological. As one autistic adult put it, “Our hearts are not made of stone. We love, we hurt, we yearn - just on a different wavelength.” Embracing this different wavelength is key.

Neurotypical individuals, especially those who are friends, family or partners to autistic people, should educate themselves about how autism can affect emotional expression. Understanding concepts like monotropism (intense focus) and the double empathy problem can foster empathy and patience. Instead of telling an autistic friend “you’re overreacting” or _“you need to move on” when they are heartbroken, supporters can acknowledge the depth of their pain and perhaps help them getting the relationships to work out in a successful and positive way. For example, if an autistic person expresses love in a way that seems odd (maybe they infodump facts as a love language, or they don’t say “I love you” but show it through actions), a neurotypical partner who understands autism can learn to see those actions for what they are or help another party to actually understand how highly someone is interested in them - and that this is actually a good thing. In short, meeting halfway is crucial in cross-neurotype relationships[20] recognizing that autistic individuals usually are already further than halfway all the time. Both parties should communicate openly about their needs and interpretations. Many mixed (autistic-NT) couples do thrive once they establish mutual understanding that their brains work differently but both care for each other deeply.

On the clinical side, therapists and counselors should adopt neurodiversity-affirming approaches when working with autistic clients on relationship issues. Rather than immediately pathologizing an autistic clients talk of an unrequited love as rumination to be eliminated, therapists can first validate the clients feelings and then help them find constructive ways to cope or even better get relationships to work. As Best Self Psych’s neurodiverse-affirming therapists suggest, it’s helpful when a therapist “understands that these [limerent] fantasies have a soothing purpose” for the autistic client[3]. This understanding prevents further shaming of the clients experience. Therapy can then gently guide individuals in building communication skills to express affection in ways their partners can understand, and developing strategies to set boundaries (both to respect others’ comfort and to protect the autistic person’s own heart). Social skills training, if done respectfully, can include explicit teaching about dating norms - not to force autistics to mask as neurotypical, but to empower them with knowledge of the “unwritten rules” so they can decide how to navigate them. At the same time, therapy should bolster an autistic person’s self-esteem, reinforcing that they are not “broken” for loving intensely. In addition society should adapt to accomodate for the different ways of expression and help building relationships for those who struggle.

Another needed shift is in educational and support resources. Autistic adolescents and young adults often have limited access to accurate, autism-friendly relationship guidance[4]. As Attwood pointed out, many teens with Asperger’s end up learning about romance from media or peers who might mislead them[4]. Schools and communities could provide tailored programs that talk about dating and consent in a way autistic youth can grasp, including discussions about handling rejection and emotions. Importantly, these programs should also educate neurotypical peers - for instance, discouraging the cruel prom dare scenarios or gossip that exploit autistic students social naivete[4]. Fostering a culture of understanding in high school and college can reduce the likelihood of autistic individuals being callously hurt or socially ostracized when they express interest in someone.

From a societal perspective, combating ableism and stereotypes in media is also helpful. If autistic characters in TV or film were shown having genuine romantic storylines (not just as quirky comic relief or robots), it could change public perception that autistic love is an oxymoron. Real-life autistic voices, such as memoirs and blogs, are increasingly highlighting their romantic lives - successes and struggles alike - which helps to humanize these experiences for neurotypical readers. For example, books like Aspergers in Love by Maxine Aston (2003) and personal essays by autistic adults provide insight into how autistics give and receive love. These narratives stress that while methods may differ, the meaning of the emotion is just as significant.

Finally, the concept of supportive community should not be overlooked. Communities can also crowd-source practical advice: e.g., how to cope with a breakup as an autistic person (sensory-friendly self-care, using one’s special interests as healing, etc.), or how to politely approach someone one is interested in without overstepping in a way where one actually succeeds. This kind of culturally sensitive knowledge is empowering and reduces the trial-and-error that often leads to painful misunderstandings.

Conclusion

Romantic feelings in ASD Level 1 are a nuanced blend of intensity, persistence, and difference - but they are fundamentally human. Neurotypical society has too often failed to honor that, instead marginalizing autistic love as either non-existent or deviant. The research and accounts reviewed here make clear that autistic individuals can love very deeply; the real problem is that we as a society have not loved them back in the way we respond to their emotions. By encouraging mutual understanding (the essence of resolving the double empathy gap)[1], adjusting social expectations, and providing compassionate support, we can ensure that autistic adolescents and adults are no longer made to feel that their feelings are wrong. Instead, their feelings can be guided, reciprocated, and respected. As one study aptly noted, intimacy is a two-way street - and many of the roadblocks faced by autistic people are mainly built by neurotypical peoples assumptions and reactions[1]. Removing those roadblocks will go a long way toward happier outcomes. Autistic people deserve the same validation in love that anyone does. When their limerence and love are taken seriously - by clinicians, peers, and (potential) partners - the individual can grow from those experiences rather than be crushed by them. And when an autistic person finds (possibly with external help) a loving relationship (with a neurotypical or another neurodivergent person) where they are accepted as they are, it often flourishes with exceptional loyalty, honesty, and passion. In the end, the goal should be to create a world where no one’s heartfelt declaration of love is met with “You can’t feel that” - a world that recognizes neurodivergent love is real, and it matters.

References

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