When Social Doesn’t Mean Neurotypical: Rethinking Autism and Connection

By Tim Aiello, MA, LPC, NCC, ADHD-CCSP, ASDCS

Clinical Director, Myndset Therapeutics

“I don’t know… I talk to people all the time. I’m social. Doesn’t that go against autism?”

This is something I hear often—and it makes perfect sense. Most of us grew up being told that Autism meant isolation, silence, and total social withdrawal. That narrative stuck. It’s outdated. And it’s wrong.

Autism isn’t a lack of social interaction. It’s a different experience of social interaction.

Being Social Isn’t the Same as Feeling Safe in Social Spaces

Autistic people often crave connection, but the way we engage with others can look different. Many of us are incredibly social in certain contexts—especially 1:1 conversations with strangers, deep chats that skip the small talk, or moments when we’re “in a role” (like being helpful, curious, or supportive). But these same interactions can feel… complicated. Maybe even hollow.

Here’s where people get confused: we might appear socially skilled on the outside. We ask questions, we track conversations, we remember what someone said. But what others don’t see is the inner calculation—the regulation, the attunement, the effort. It’s not always connection for the sake of closeness. Sometimes it’s connection for the sake of predictability. Or strategy. Or safety.

In fact, recent research supports that Autistic adults often use social scripts—learned or rehearsed ways of navigating social situations (Hull et al., 2017). These scripts can help us engage smoothly, but they’re not always rooted in spontaneity. And when we don’t have access to a script? That’s often when the “autism” shows more visibly.

Small Talk vs. Depth: What Feels Nourishing?

Many autistic individuals report that casual, superficial conversation feels exhausting or even pointless. But give us a deep topic, a real story, or a 1:1 moment? We’re all in. This has less to do with social “ability” and more to do with neurotype-compatible communication. We’re not disinterested in people—we’re disinterested in social performance.

This difference is explained well by the Double Empathy Problem, a theory that challenges the outdated idea that Autistic people simply lack empathy or social understanding. Instead, it suggests that communication breakdowns happen when people of different neurotypes try to connect—because we speak and interpret social cues differently (Milton, 2012). So it’s not that we’re socially broken—it’s that we’re misunderstood.

Autistic communication often centers on authenticity. We may skip pleasantries and instead go deep, fast. We may prefer 1:1 because it’s less chaotic, easier to track, and feels more meaningful. None of this means we’re not social. It just means our social meter runs on a different voltage.

The Role of Masking and Strategic Connection

Here’s a subtle but important point: some of us have become incredibly good at reading others, engaging thoughtfully, and even charming people—not because we’re extroverted or carefree, but because it’s how we learned to survive.

Masking is the conscious or unconscious suppression of autistic traits in order to blend in socially. It often involves mimicking facial expressions, rehearsing responses, maintaining eye contact, and modulating tone and gestures (Hull et al., 2020). Over time, this becomes second nature. And from the outside, it can look like we’re “fine” in social spaces. But inside, we may feel uncertain, disconnected, or hypervigilant.

Some autistic adults report a unique kind of joy in these micro-interactions—not necessarily because they feel emotionally intimate, but because they feel safe. You don’t have to monitor your identity around a stranger in an Uber. You’re not as likely to be rejected. These interactions are low-risk, high-control, and short-lived. You get to connect without being vulnerable. And sometimes, making someone’s day feels like a form of self-regulation.

When Social Engagement is Misread

We need to stop assuming that someone who is sociable, articulate, or curious can’t be autistic. Many of us are all of those things—and still autistic.

What matters isn’t how much someone talks to people, but how those interactions are experienced internally. Are they nourishing or draining? Authentic or masked? Safe or effortful?

If you’re someone who moves easily through social spaces but often leaves them feeling flat, overstimulated, or unsure of what just happened—you’re not broken. You’re not faking. And you’re certainly not disqualified from being autistic.

You’re just living in a world that wasn’t built for your wiring. And you’ve learned to adapt beautifully—even if it’s lonely sometimes.

References

• Hull, L., Mandy, W., & Petrides, K. V. (2017). Behavioural and cognitive sex/gender differences in autism spectrum condition and typically developing males and females. Autism, 21(6), 706–727. https://doi.org/10.1177/1362361316669087

• Hull, L., Petrides, K. V., Allison, C., Smith, P., Baron-Cohen, S., Lai, M. C., & Mandy, W. (2020). “Putting on My Best Normal”: Social Camouflaging in Adults with Autism Spectrum Conditions. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 50, 2209–2220. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-019-03963-6

• Milton, D. E. M. (2012). On the ontological status of autism: the ‘double empathy problem’. Disability & Society, 27(6), 883–887. https://doi.org/10.1080/09687599.2012.710008