Autism and Grief: January 2024

My husband of twenty-two years, Bob, died suddenly on New Year's Day aged sixty-three.  He expired in front of me and our then sixteen-year-old son, Ted.  

This is what happened afterwards ...

I immediately decided that he should have a direct cremation.  This was mainly because of cost and because there's no way that me and Ted could cope with a funeral etc.  In retrospect, I'm not sure whether Bob would have actually wanted, but he's not here to ask, is he?  Due to the sudden nature of his death and the resulting postmortem, the cremation was delayed anyway.

I sold the car.  I don't currently have a licence and there's no way that I could afford to keep running it.

There was resulting electrical work to be completed on the house to install a smart meter.  I ensured that that was completed.

Then the leeches started - first was me getting back in touch with Audi Man, a bloke I'd known in the past.  Let's face it, he's either autistic or a psychopath (well, he is an IT professional so you make your own decision.)  Basically, he wanted to 'bridge the gap' for me, sexually and insisted on carrying out explicit WhatsApp video calls with me a mere few days after Bob passed.  He also wanted to use my house as some kind of sexual pop in parlour.  His long-suffering and quite frankly, bloody stupid, wife and three kids wouldn't know about it though.  I got very pissed one Sunday afternoon and told her via the medium of LinkedIn - a bizarre conduit I think that you'll agree?  But hey!  Then he started calling and leaving messages, she started replying and well, the threatening letter turned up and guess what - I called the Police on him.  Nice.  What a gent.  He was warned off.  

My severely disabled brother-in-law, Uncle C, lives in sheltered accommodation up in north London.  Bob dealt with his finances.  It was difficult enough working out Bob's byzantine system of spreadsheets without that added problem.  I initially thought that it was a joint account, but it wasn't.  The manager was always hassling Bob to come up and visit Uncle C and caused the former and awful lot of stress.  I honestly wanted to ring up Mr Manager and tell him to leave Bob the hell alone, but it never came to that.  To cut a long story short, Mr Manager wanted me to empty the bank account and bring up Uncle C's half in cash.  Yep cash.  All the way from south-east to north London.  How very safe.  I complained to the Care Company about him and then the local authority, which was the London Borough of Camden.  Everything got ignored for months and my complaint was upheld.  I broke off all familial responsibility straight after Bob's death as I can't and won't cope with it.  

I spent an awful lot of time with my brother and parents who live in the same road.  They initially wanted me to sell this house and move the two or so miles south of the borough.  I am so glad that I never did this.  

I restarted the Welling Community Choir; gawd knows why I did because Bob was the latest member to die - there's either a curse or the membership are so fucking old that they fall of their respective perches naturally.  It of course, ended badly.  I tend to take a great dislike to certain people in life and they always end up being stupid baby boom women.  This one was called X.  She was and I expect still is, a total and utter cunt.  November will herald more cunts in another choir so keep on reading.  

The Trouble With Tinder

So, Tinder. I uploaded a series of photographs, some of whom were deliberately full length to show that I am plus size. One example, taken on my fortieth birthday up in the home of Viz Comic, a prettu suburb outside Newcastle called Jesmond is shown below. I'm 5ft 9in and am wearing a UK size 16.

Anyway, late one Friday night I saw a series of photographs and blurb of a bloke whom I'll refer to as James. He was older than me by more than sixteen years, but as my late husband had been fifteen years my senior I was already attracted to older men [father complex and insecurity]. He'd already swiped right on me and as I had too, we had a match. I sent him a cheeky opening message; he responded, immediately stating what he wanted!? We exchanged numbers early on Saturday morning.

One hour later James called me. It was akin to an interview and was basically his way of determining whether I was a time waster. Apparently because I'd also worked as a civil servant and was suitably impressed that he'd had a book published etc etc that I was deemed a suitable candidate for his amarous intentions. I sent him a link to my LinkedIn. That's due diligence for you. 

James wanted to do a videochat in the afternoon but as I was attending Drum Club, I couldn't. He later called me from the bath. I did say that I didn't really want one of those kind of videochats and he said that it wouldn't be. It wasn't and the camera didn't deviate from his face. Later on, we chatted when he was travelling back from London and he then insisted on another videochat, but this one was much more explicit - basically he wanted a free peep show. He was very demanding.

The next day he wanted me to drive from south-east London up to Hertfordshire to his home. On a first date? Are you mad?  I don't drive anyway. I was volunteer litter picking at my local Abbey so I agreed to jump on the Elizabeth line and meet him in Farringdon, which I did. He was very full on from the start - he presented me with a bunch of lillies which are actually a funeral flower. He was attentive, charming and incredibly tactile. I didn't hugely mind at the time. We walked hand in hand around the City of London. He was incredibly intelligent and autistic. Great. He wanted to know everything about me, especially my love life, which in retrospect, was rather odd

We parted at Farringdon a few hours later. He got a snog and a sneaky grope. Lovely. Surely that contravenes the Conditions of Carriage?

The week went on. He was very attentive. We videochatted each evening and some mornings. Then he booked an STD test and wanted me to do the same [as we're clearly a load of old rotten old slags down in south London]. Yikes. I did order the online one, but it brought up past trauma from the 1990s. 

On the Wednesday evening he was in a bad mood and basically admitted to sleeping with a woman abroad on Tinder's travel mode. I was a bit taken aback about that and retorted that "I'd see what I could find on Tinder myself" He got angry, saying that "it was lucky that he wanted me because nobody would be interested in me because I was so mis-shapen in the Viz photograph." I hung up on him and then cried myself to sleep as my weight is my archilles heel. 

I admonished him by WhatsApp the next day. He apologised wholeheartedly but I knew in my heart of hearts that it wouldn't work. He'd reacted badly when I'd expressed concern about him having unprotected sex with a Tinder match abroad. I mean, it's dangerous isn't it? As a result, I was in a bad mood all Thursday and had a go at someone on a MS Teams workshop. I later apologised in writing to the person concerned.

It limped on during Friday. He is a cradle Catholic and therefore has an issue with condoms. I was raised Anglican and believe that safe sex is the best way to navigate through one's sexual partners. He was really obsessed by his own semen. Ick. Maybe I should have just asked him to express some into a suitable bottle and post it to me? He wanted to book a hotel room during the next week and kept asking whether my period had ended. I am currently menopausal, so there's no way of knowing.

I didn't hear from him much on Saturday and not at all on Sunday. He is a world leader in his particular field, bully for him. Thus he's always beavering away 24/7. I must admit that I sent far too many messages to him; I'm an idiot like that. 

This morning I got dumped by WhatsApp. All of my mates who'd been helping and advising me along the way were sympathetic. I did have a blood pressure, height and weight check at the GP this afternoon and I am too fat and my BP is too high so I've been referred to the NHS's Steps To Health gym scheme, which I'll be undertaking during 2025. 

Grief, autism and dating

I'll admit it, I'm lonely. Yes, after being in a relationship with the same man since March 2000 I'm not used to being alone. As the year drew to a conclusion I thought that I'd seek companionship via dating apps, after all, a close female and close male friend had found happiness, following a bit of a bumpy ride. Maybe I jumped in too soon?  In retrospect, I think that I did.

Anyway, I was on Bumble, the female-led dating app, although it's less so now. I chatted to a couple of blokes and one I'm still in contact with now but we've never met in real life (IRL.) I chatted to another via WhatsApp and phone and we agreed to meet in my local branch of Wetherspoons (yes, I am a cheap date). He showed up really late, was incredibly boring and yep, he was autistic. Blah. I know that I am, but at least I have a keen sense of humour. The date was so bad that I orde

Then I tried Hinge (I couldn't understand it, so I gave up.) I then tried Tinder ... 

Autism and Grief: April 2024

 This month we started working with our local authority's family support service.  It really helped.

Autism and Grief: March 2024

March was yet another eventful month.

Autism and Grief: February 2024

OK, so there's February which was yet another shitshow.  On Tuesday, 6th February I had to go to my local NHS Polyclinic for a hysteroscopy which turned out to be much more painful then I'd expected (although the letter did say to take painkillers beforehand, but my bloody mother poo-pooed that.) A coil was inserted which would reduce the intensity of my periods and provide birth control. I did say that I was forty-eight and recently widowed, so I had no need of the latter.

Afterwards I went back to my parents' house for a 'posh coffee' - ie one of those milk powder dehydrated ones. Mother started her high pitched barking coughing, told me that when she'd previously had panic attacks and wanted to die as a result. I started crying and my dad drove me home.

I registered Bob's death on 9th February. It was in the same venue my friend married her second husband back in summer 2022. It's also located in my Borough’s premier park.

I made an effort to get out more on guided walks around other woodlands. The verdant greens make me happy.

I ensured that I became Master Logic's DWP appointee. That was pretty painless as the EO made a home visit. On the same day I had the lock on the garage door replaced as I'd lost the key. The proprietor remembered Bob and expressed his sincere condolences. He also admired the house's high ceilings and enquired whether I wanted to remarry, which was a nice touch I thought. Of course, I didn't mention this in the subsequent 5* Google review.

I bought myself a whole load of Percy Pig merch from M&S to cheer myself up on St Valentine's Day. The mug is especially jolly. 

On the 15th February I had an appointment with my solicitor; Dad came along too. It was regarding the will and the ongoing issues with my brother-in-law's care home. Luckily as everything was bequeathed to me, the estate didn't go into probate.

On the 16th February it was my Mother's birthday. As we weren't speaking it was extremely tense. My brother and his family took Mum and Dad to a local cafe. We were due to visit Chislehurst Caves but Mum suddenly went walkabout sans phone. We thought that she'd topped herself. It was all bloody awful. She was fine but upset and confused.

On the 17th February I attended a talk in the library concerning local flight pioneers Alcock and Brown. I was particularly pleased to see the speaker open a picnic sized bottle of wine whilst stood at the lectern. 

I attended an initial meeting at a local charity which supports people with  disabilities and mental health challenges to secure work. It went well, but soon it all unravelled. At their advice I went to a Job Fair at my local job centre. It wasn't hugely productive - merely a chance for potential employers to hand out a clutch of weblinks. I did, however, manage to show an EO from the DWP my CV, but he merely stroked it and handed it right back to me, advising me to apply for vacancies on the Civil Service Gateway instead. 

My house was valued on 22nd February. I was impressed. I later made the decision not to sell. Along with my Dad, I viewed a rather dilapidated end-of-terrace house which was located a mile away from my parents' and brothers' respective houses. It was also smack bang in front of my old primary school and around the corner from my secondary school so the parking would be horrendous. The owner had gone into a care home, so the whole place needed thousands thrown at it. But, this was looming over it ...