Someway, somehow, there I was at the Human Ken Doll’s (google him) birthday party in West Hollywood last night surrounded by elite homosexuals and immense loneliness when my biology cracked down at the sight of a fellow Ukrainian or Belarusian beauty in the distance, CCP. There’s some facial/skeletal dimension reasoning behind it; all I know is I’m wired for this gene pool and instantly mystified. I swig my friend’s shot of Tequila and kindly manhandle my way out of the packed bar through the slimy hedonistic filth. CCP’s a stone’s throw away once I’m finally free; after a brisk kegel squeeze and gentlemanly speed walking, her and I are face to face outside a dimly lit dispensary.

CCP’s raw attraction was physiologically intimidating in all honesty (~26, 5’7, 125) and I needed to center my breathing for a sec there, absolutely merciless Winter curves; but it was smooth sailing from there on out. We exchanged pleasantries in Russian (is Belarusian, whaddya know?) and she seemed captivated by rather remedial topics; but I’m a terrible conversationalist outside of English and we gradually switch on back. It was then I could tell something was up with more clarity; she had an extremely literal interpretation of things and constantly computed her emotions in a sense, plus the lack of eye contact also commenced. Super surreal because the minor language barrier was not the issue at all. I ultimately averted my eyes from the hypnosis of her body and can’t help but think, the hell is CCP wearing? A Cookie Monster shirt, sweats, and flip flops? But it did look cozy, couldn’t judge.

We stroll to a dog park around the corner and went at it with chess on our phones. CCP hadn’t played in years and was busting out extremely solid theory, which gets me my beans juiced like no other form of intellectual expression. Women that can push your on the board are usually keepers to some capacity from my experience. During our duel, she had a few long tangents ranging from her favorite anime to obscure China facts. I was busting up from the absurdity at times and she didn’t compute what I found funny, which was only more comedic in itself. Then I asked her in Russian why she didn’t want to look me in the eye after our game as we bantered; for which she nonchalantly stared into my pupils and dropped “I’m autistic,” like a G. I wasn’t fully equipped to for that answer and decently responded with, “Ah. I see... Hey, whatta about we go to Vegas? You, me, the Bellagio, Blackjack; let’s make some fuckin money CCP..” She didn’t get the Rainman reference and I had to explain the concept of my sarcasm, but we shared a good laugh in due time..

We started to make out and get handsy, for which I then realized she was actually a man with quite the T Bone tucked away. Just kiddin, in your dreams bozo. Terrible kisser, but holy smokes; it was breast feeding from my mom level of intensity being blessed with those dimensions, sweet Jesus all mighty super-charged by Joseph Smith’s cryogenically frozen gonads. This woman is some god dam art fellas, no way around it. Throw her in any Amsterdam Brothel and she’ll run the Van Gogh Museum out of business by the next fiscal quarter, I’d bet my left ear on it!

We start strolling back to Human Ken Doll, I warn her that there is a plethora of ovulating homosexuals and they’re bumping shitty EDM. In Eastern Europe, it’s totally okay to be bamboozled by the notion of two men going to town. CCP immediately grimaced, is what it is. But then again, she did live in West Hollywood and shoulda been used to it; though I think it was the ability to express mild irritation without judgement that propelled her emphasized reaction. We approached and CCP stopped dead in her tracks; after inquiring, she lemme know that the music was over-stimulating. Dayum, I almost shed a tear right there and then on my grandpa’s Vietnam dog-tags. She gets it.

We stumbled across an abandoned bench and let the good times roll, you know what I’m sayin? As we unraveled, I accepted her objective flaws of interaction and did my best to see within the lines of her expression. Such an intricate web of seemingly honest thought loops and pure intentions; confusing, yet it all appears to make sense as you adjust to its cryptic nature. Though on other end, I also came to terms with the completely unsustainable nature of our interaction. But hey, no one’s perfect; fuck it, let the good times roll, you know what I’m sayin?

Anyhow... Ah yes, purpose. Why are my carpals blasting away to you strangers? Sheeeet, just a plain n simple shout out to all the wonderful autistic women on this planet. We love bashing on borderlines and narcissists because hey, it’s usually warranted; but c’mon fellas, eyes on the prize. Of all the cognitive deviations for the 21st women to posses, the right amount of autism can be an elixir to self destructive ego and anger. Absolutely marvelous... You gotta love it, nothing like hot coco and autism on your wife’s boytoy’s yacht. These women...These women are the counter balance to gold digging leeches of your Chi, our universe’s bestowment of uncompromisable innocence... I’m speechless autism, I really am. You’ve shown me how to accept, you’ve explicitly stated the exact volume and weight of China’s Yangtze River, you’ve conjured hope where all was lost.

God bless autism.