So You're Dating an AuDHD

Dating me isn’t a Pinterest board of curated date nights. It’s more like a late-night indie film where half the popcorn is burnt, but there’s plenty of butter, and somehow you’re still glad you bought a ticket.

This isn’t about hacks or “5 easy ways to understand your quirky partner.” It’s about reality: the turbulence, the comedy, the weird tenderness of being with someone whose brain doesn’t run on factory settings. I’m textbook AuDHD. That’s not me being odd - it’s just the way the wiring is.

Expect the Unexpected

Plans aren’t optional for me- they’re hilariously over-planned. Give me an itinerary (and honestly, you should), but know I can only complete about three activities in any given day. Don’t prepay unless you absolutely must, because by hour five I’ll hit my limit and need to vanish into a blanket fort.

If you don’t tell me where we’re going, I can’t pick what I want beforehand, and that’s a guaranteed disaster. Time, to me, is an illusion. You’ll swear it’s 6:45, I’ll insist it’s “just after five,” and neither of us will be right. That’s not lying — that’s my brain flatly refusing to obey your clock.

The Sensory Battlefield

Dating me means learning that “let’s go out” is less about where and more about what my nervous system can tolerate that day.

Loud restaurants? Torture chamber. Flickering fluorescent lights? Guantánamo Bay, but with soggy fries. A concert might sound fun, but without earplugs and an exit strategy, I’ll look like The Scream while you wonder what happened.

Get the setting right, though, and I’ll thrive. Dim lighting, soft background noise, my back to the wall - suddenly I’m present, funny, maybe even glowing. Think “vintage wine, but only if you stored it exactly right.”

And speaking of wine- don’t. Vodka works faster, and my tolerance is half Scotch/Irish/German plus ‘tism metabolism. I drink fast to get there, but when I’m done, I mean it. That’s your cue: water, blanket, lights out.

As for surprises? I love them - I love that you thought of me - but maybe pull from a pre-approved list first. “Spontaneity” works best when it’s actually somewhere I can survive.

Communication: A Strange Precision

I talk in footnotes. Ask how my day was, and you’ll either get one word or a TED Talk with side quests, cultural references, and a breakdown of how the postal system is an allegory for capitalism.

I’m blunt. Not because I don’t care, but because fluff wastes energy. If I say, “I don’t like that,” it doesn’t mean “I hate you.” It means exactly what it says.

Quiet? That’s trickier. It could mean I trust you enough not to perform, or it could mean my brain shut down and I’m buffering like a 2003 YouTube video. Best way to know which? Ask, gently.

And when it comes to information- brace yourself. I will info dump at will once you open the door. I try to self-contain, but once you give the green light, I’m the can of worms that spills everywhere. The fun kind.

If I’m stuck and frustrated, don’t force me to “use my words.” Distract me. Hand me something weird, edible, shiny - anything to break the loop. It’s not compliance; it’s a reset.

Routines & Chaos: The Double-Edged Sword

Half my brain requires structure and stability. The other half? It wants to run Tasmanian Devil–style across the cartoon rabbit’s tail.

I have to know what’s coming so I can decide before hunger, distraction, or sensory overload take over. But repeat the same grind too often, and my head starts buzzing like a hive of angry bees. That’s the paradox: I am chaos and creativity and passion wrapped in hypersensitivity and physically painful levels of empathy.

Sometimes I need a shield. Sometimes I need a cheerleader. But I always want a partner.

The Romantic Baseline

I don’t treat love like a scarce resource - because it isn’t. Love and sex are different fruits, but they can grow on the same tree.

And yes, I throw love around. A lot. I can love a human just for being a decent human. If I tell you I love you, I mean it. Maybe it’s the way I love a pet, a friend, a sibling, or something entirely more interesting. I don’t ration affection. I’m a shirt-off-my-back giver.

But don’t mistake abundance for emptiness. When I say it, it’s real.

Intimately? Both sides of my brain show up. AuDHD means hypersensitivity, fast response times, and intensity that flips from playful to profound in a heartbeat. That can be exhilarating or overwhelming — sometimes both at once.

For context: I’m in a long-term relationship and legally married. So this isn’t me auditioning for candidates. It’s a baseline. A field guide for how my (and therefore an auDHD) brain and body approach connection.

Why It’s Worth It

Dating me isn’t simple. It’s not streamlined or tidy or designed for Instagram captions. But if you’re in, really in - you get the full ride.

You get someone who notices what no one else does. Who laughs at absurdity instead of looking away. Who will hyperfocus on making you feel loved in a way no one else could replicate.

It won’t always be comfortable, and it won’t always be convenient. But it will be real.

Dating an AuDHD isn’t about tolerating chaos - it’s about learning to dance with it. And if you can? Under the noise, the quirks, the contradictions, you’ll find someone who will love you with the kind of intensity you don’t forget.

Bring snacks.

Author Note: I’m building a trauma-informed emotional app that actually gives a damn and writing up the receipts of a life built without instructions for my AuDHD. ❤️ Help me create it (without burning out): https://bit.ly/BettyFund