An Autistic Moment in the Drive-Thru

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When My Body Says No: An Autistic Moment in the Drive-Thru

Something small happened at Zaxby’s today, but it made me realize something important about myself.

I was in the drive-thru, just expecting my usual. The girl working the window wasn’t the one who handed me my drink—this time, it was a guy. I think he’s the manager or something. I’ve seen him there before, and he’s done this before too. He’s not rude or mean, but…I just don’t like him touching my stuff.

It’s not all guys. Other restaurants have guy workers, and I’m fine with them. It’s him. Something about him just makes me feel off. And I finally noticed that.

When he tried to hand me my drink today, I just stared at him. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared.

He stared back and asked, “Are you going to take it?”

Still, nothing from me.

I had my autism shirt on under my work uniform (which was unbuttoned), and the girl standing beside him leaned in and whispered something in his ear. He backed off. Handed her the drink. She poured it out and made a new one. She and another girl handled the rest of my order. Then she said, “We’ll make sure we’re the ones that take care of your stuff when you come through from now on.”

Then she added, “My brother has autism. He doesn’t like men touching his food either.”

And that was kind of powerful to hear. Because for me, it’s not men, not really. It’s this guy. And I don’t even know why. But I’ve learned to listen when my body says no. Even if I can’t explain it.

🌀 Reflection:

Sometimes autistic people can sense something is off before we can put words to it. It’s not about judging someone—it’s about trusting your own radar. I didn’t have to yell or explain myself today. I just existed as I am, and someone understood. That meant a lot.

🧠 A Deeper Realization:

When I really think about it, I’ve always trusted women more than men. Not because all men are bad—just because it takes more for me to feel safe around them.
The only men I’ve ever fully trusted are my grandfather Papa, my friend Kenneth (Miranda’s boyfriend), John, and Chaz. That’s it.
And honestly? That’s okay.
Trust doesn’t have to be universal—it has to be earned. And I’m allowed to honor who feels safe and who doesn’t.

💡 Where This Might Come From:

I used to wonder why I struggle trusting men. My Papa filled the role my father walked away from when I was just five years old. He was everything a grandfather—and a father—should be.
But maybe the wound still exists alongside the love.
Maybe part of me still remembers being that little kid, confused and hurting. And maybe that’s why I only trust a few men now—because even if I don’t think about it every day, my body hasn’t forgotten.
And that doesn’t mean I’m broken. It means I’m still healing.

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