I’m not being rude — I just don’t speak ‘social’
Let’s start this the way I wish most conversations went: directly. No preamble. No weather report. Just right to the point.
I don’t intuitively understand small talk. I never have. That’s not because I’m rude, or inconsiderate, or trying to avoid connection. It’s because my brain simply doesn’t operate on that frequency. I don’t have a natural grasp of the unspoken social rituals so many people take for granted — like saying “sorry” before interrupting someone, or warming up a conversation with two minutes of casual chatter before actually getting to the part that matters.
To someone like me, those rituals feel less like kindness and more like… detours. The expectation to always ease in gently, to ask how someone’s doing even when you’re not actually asking, to avoid “jumping right into it” — it’s all a kind of invisible choreography. One I didn’t learn, and honestly, don’t fully understand the purpose of.
And here's something most people don’t consider: to me, all that detouring feels rude. When someone asks about something they clearly don’t care about just to follow the social script, it doesn’t feel polite — it feels dishonest. Forced. Performative. I don’t understand how pretending to care about something you’re not actually interested in became the gold standard of kindness. If anything, that mismatch between words and intent makes me more uncomfortable, not less.
The problem is, when I don’t follow that choreography, people often assume I’m being cold, impatient, or worse — disrespectful. But I’m not trying to be any of those things. I’m just trying to communicate in the clearest, most direct way I know how.
And I get it — social norms are comforting to a lot of people. The warm-up chat helps ease anxiety, helps people feel seen and safe. That’s valid. But the reality is: it doesn’t work like that for everyone. Some of us connect through clarity. Through directness. Through being trusted enough to get right to what matters, without the pressure to perform politeness first.
This is where being neurodivergent comes into play. For me, navigating a social world that assumes shared understanding of all these unwritten rules can feel like trying to operate in a foreign language — one I didn’t grow up speaking, but am constantly expected to be fluent in.
And here’s the important bit: not all neurodivergent people feel the same way. Some absolutely love small talk. Some thrive on it. Some feel safer when those social rituals are followed. Others, like me, feel overwhelmed or confused by them. There’s no one “ND experience.” Just a wide range of ways our brains interpret and interact with the world.
So when someone skips the pleasantries and goes straight into a question or a topic — it’s not always a sign of disrespect. Sometimes, it’s the exact opposite. It can be a sign of trust. Of honesty. Of someone trying to share something important with you, in the only way that makes sense to them.
The takeaway? It’s not about whose way is “right.” It’s about building a world — and conversations — where there’s room for both. Where clarity isn’t mistaken for rudeness. Where niceties aren’t a barrier to understanding. And where we all get to speak in the language that comes most naturally to us — without being punished for it.