Trying unexpected to diagnose autism

My ex called me for the first time in over a year. We haven't spoken whatsoever in over a year. She's studying psychology at the local community college. She called me at 11 PM last night to tell me she thinks I have Autism (based on our 5+ year old relationship.) I, four beers into the night and sitting in the garage, couldn't believe what I was hearing. Did this bixth really just call me at 11 at night on a weekday to try and diagnose me with Autism?

The shrill ring of my phone pierced through the solitude of my dimly lit garage, where I sat nursing a beer and contemplating the random events of life. As I glanced at the caller ID, I was struck by disbelief; it was her, my ex, a person I hadn't heard from in so long that her voice felt like a distant memory.

Hesitatingly, I answered the call, greeted by a familiar voice that still held a unique charm, even after all this time. "Hey," she began, her tone hesitant, "I've been doing a lot of studying lately, especially in psychology. And, well, I've been thinking about our past and, um, I think you might have Autism."

I almost choked on my beer, trying to process what she'd just said. Autism? It wasn't something I'd ever considered, and certainly not as a topic of late-night conversation. I glanced around the garage, as if the tools and dusty boxes might offer some explanation or solace. They didn't.

"Autism?" I finally managed to croak out, my voice a mixture of surprise and irritation. "You're calling me at 11 PM to diagnose me with Autism? Seriously?"

She hesitated again, her words faltering as if she hadn't quite thought this through. "I just thought... you know, some of the things you did when we were together, they made me wonder. And I've been reading about it, and it just seemed like it could fit."

I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. "So, you've become an armchair psychologist, and now you're diagnosing me from a distance?"

Her voice quivered as she responded, "I just thought you should know. It could explain some things, help you understand yourself better."

I sighed, taking another sip of my beer. The garage suddenly felt like the loneliest place on Earth. "Look, it's been a long time, and I appreciate your concern, but you can't diagnose someone with Autism over the phone, especially after so many years. Besides, even if you could, it's not something to be thrown around casually."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, I thought she might hang up. But then she spoke softly, almost apologetically, "I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to help."

I leaned back in my garage chair, the cool breeze of the night brushing against my face. "I know you mean well, but there are better ways to approach this. If you're really interested in psychology, maybe you should focus on understanding people's feelings and perspectives rather than diagnosing them. It's a complex field, you know."

She seemed to take my words to heart, her voice growing warmer. "You're right. I guess I got carried away. I'm sorry for calling so late and making you uncomfortable."

I smiled, despite the oddness of the situation. "It's okay. We all make mistakes. Just remember that diagnosing someone is a delicate matter, and it's best left to professionals who can assess it properly."

As we continued to talk, the tension in the conversation slowly dissolved. We reminisced about the past, shared stories of our lives since we'd parted ways, and even laughed at some of the absurd moments we'd experienced together. It was a strange but surprisingly cathartic conversation, one that reminded us both of the connection we'd once shared.

When we finally said our goodbyes, it was well past midnight, and my beer had grown warm. As I hung up, I couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn the night had taken. My ex's call may have been bizarre and poorly timed, but it had led to a conversation that rekindled an old connection, and for that, I was grateful. Maybe psychology wasn't about diagnosing others but understanding them, even when it meant revisiting the past at the most unexpected of times.