i have a friend whose enthusiasm for the things she loves is contagious. whenever she's excited about something, i can tell from the way she wiggles and stims and gestures and emphasizes her words, and pretty soon, no matter what it is, i'm enthusiastic about it, too!
i used to think it was my penchant for behavior mirroring that caused me to copy her so closely. you see, i've always had a bit of a bad habit -- whenever i spend too long around someone, i start to pick up their mannerisms. there was a boy i knew in elementary school who kept calling things "fresh," and pretty soon, i was, too. when the people around me got mad or sad about something, i learned how to copy them so i wouldn't be the weirdo left not emoting, and so my feelings began to come from the people around me more than ever. if i found something disappointing but everyone else adored it, i wouldn't even realize i was frustrated until the high wore off a day or two later.
so of course, when she got enthusiastic, i'd copy her, right? it makes sense. she loves a show, and her voice picks up in its meter and her eyes lock onto mine and of course i'm going to do the same thing right back at her. i mean, naturally. but i realized it might be a her thing when her roommates started copying her, too. i mean, full-on same body language, same word choice, everything. one day she picks up a particular little meme phrase -- i don't remember which one, but it was something silly -- and the next all three of them are saying it, and after that i find myself joining in.
it's not just mannerisms, though. like, of course, we're all autistic, right? we're going to do some behavior-mirroring. but when her roommates started dressing like her, i figured something might be going on with those three. she wears these outfits i can only describe as, like, "mall tgirl classic." like hot topic looking skulls and black shirts with straps and stripes and stuff? and i could've sworn one of her roommates always wore woodsy outfits and one of them really liked collared shirts and button-downs, but when they invited me over for board game night in june they were all wearing unseasonably warm black leather jackets and wearing matching necklaces and the same stripy socks. by the time august hit, of course, i was wearing something similar myself -- i really liked their look quite a bit, and... fashion's hard. like, if i had a style inspiration, i'd take it, right?
so, this one time, i'm over at her house, and-- well, we're all drinking and watching youtube. she's made everyone her favorite cocktail -- some kind of pretty intense vodka one with a lot of ingredients added to it -- and it's our favorite too, now, because it's the one she makes best and of course we're going to agree with her taste in alcohol. she asks what i want to watch next (since i'm the guest) and immediately i suggest we put on lazypurple. we've already watched all those "how it feels" videos lots of times, and i don't even play tf2, but she LOVES it and she always gets so happy when she's watching those. so for, like, the twentieth time, she eagerly puts on the demoman one and we all sit back to watch it. we have a tradition where we all finish our glasses right at the part where lazypurple gets drunk, so we do that and it's a really, really wonderful time.
the snacks are all her favorites -- and she has wonderful taste, so we all partake in the cookies (oatmeal raisin) and candy (lemonheads) and then as we're having another round of our favorite special vodka blend we all recline on the couch to chat and finish our drinks. we're talking about jobs and classes and such today-- and every time i'm over, i find myself less and less interested in engineering. i'd been trying to pursue math stuff, but she hates math -- and every time i try explaining it to her, she doesn't get it, and i'm the one that ends up feeling kinda stupid. numbers aren't really her thing, and i don't really do anything else besides go to class and go to her place, so maybe numbers shouldn't be my thing, either? her roommates don't seem to get what i'm talking about, anyway, so i shut up and talk about something we can all enjoy: her record collection.
every time this comes up (which it always does, eventually, when the rest of us run out of things to talk about that not everyone can partake in) she'll show us a record, and every time she tells us that she can't believe we've never heard it and it's going to change our lives the way it changed hers. then she'll throw on some album she's been listening to for years, and we'll listen really, really closely, because if she's recommending it it must be good. i've never recommended her anything, because she has better taste than me and she's never been wrong about something i'll like.
after we listen and finish our drinks, the roommates smile knowingly, because they know it's time for them to step away and play some tf2 while she takes me up to her bedroom. i follow like i'm floating, drunk out of my mind and wondering idly if i'd be any more like her if i had her alcohol tolerance level. but when we both lie down and face each other, flushed, looking into each other's eyes, all of that feels so far away -- and i feel so, so close to her. physically, of course, but also in the sense that it'd just take a little realignment -- just a little push -- and we'd be occupying the same space in everyone's minds. who else do i hang out with? what else do i do?
we stay up late with each other's company, and everything she likes, i like, too. everything she wants, i want, too. it's perfect unison. perfect synchronization. i never need to safeword because she knows how to read me like a book -- always knowing what'll make me happy, because it'll make her happy, too, and she has great taste.
in the morning, she asks if i'd ever want to try anything with her roommates. all she needs to say for me to agree is that they like all the same things she likes -- because i like those things, too! and if she wants it, she's probably onto something. she has the cutest laugh, and when i try to copy it she laughs even more.
on the way out the door, her roommates accidentally call me by her name instead of mine. i don't notice until i'm all the way home.