Blessed Be the Buffer Buddy

You know that moment in public when a stranger approaches you, and you immediately start scanning the room for emergency exits? Or the way your soul briefly leaves your body when a store clerk says, “What's bringing you in today?” and you realize they expect you to produce an actual answer?

Yeah. That’s why I have a Buffer Buddy.

What’s a Buffer Buddy, you ask?

It’s the magical human being who stands between me and the relentless chaos of social interaction—my loyal translator, protector, and designated talk-to-this-person-instead-of-me life partner.

Here's a brief list of what Buffer Buddy does:

🛒 At the Store:

Stranger: “Can I help you find something?”
Me: (frozen in time, trying to remember how language works)
Buffer Buddy: “No thanks, we’re good!” [smiles in socially acceptable tone]

🚪 At the Door:

Doorbell rings.
Me: (hiding behind the couch like a raccoon avoiding the census)
Buffer Buddy: answers door like a brave, neurotypical knight

🍽️ At the Restaurant:

Waiter: “So, got any plans for the rest of the evening?”
Me: panicking “Uhh—sleep? Laundry? Exist?”
Buffer Buddy: “Haha, just a quiet night! Thanks!”

They field all the texts and coordinate all the plans. My Buffer Buddy is basically my social bouncer.

I’m not rude—I’m just delegating.

It’s not that I don’t care about people.

It’s just that I don’t know when a conversation is ending, I second-guess everything I say, and when someone says “How are you?” I either say “Fine” like a robot or unleash an unfiltered status update including physical discomfort, social fatigue, and my current thoughts on the futility of small talk.

Buffer Buddy knows how to handle all that.

They say the thing.

They wave at the neighbour.

They answer the question about whether we need a bag with our groceries.

Buffer Buddies are sacred. They are like Google Translate, but for social norms. They are the customer-facing version of your life. And they accept, without judgment, that you have outsourced 80% of your human interaction to them.

Buffer Buddy, this blog post is for you.

Thank you for giving the pizza delivery person a tip so I didn’t have to open the door in sweatpants and anxiety.
Thank you for shielding me from “fun surprise plans” and “networking opportunities.”
Thank you for being the social firewall that keeps my brain from crashing every time someone says, “So, what do you do for fun?”

You are my interpreter, my deflector, my point-of-contact and my emotional support extrovert.

I can go out in public with you and not feel like I’m about to be drafted into the army of polite small talk.

In conclusion:

If you see me in public looking socially competent, just know: it’s not me.

It’s my Buffer Buddy, doing the emotional labour of a hundred neurotypicals so I can browse the pasta aisle in peace.

Do I wish society didn’t require this much social choreography just to order tacos? Yes.

Am I deeply grateful for the person who steps in so I don’t have to do the forced conversation thing?

Also yes.

May all autistic people be blessed with a Buffer Buddy. Or at the very least, access to a drive-thru and online ordering.

This is buffer-buddy and I in Venice in 2023.  I was wearing the same outfit as the gondolier.  Apparently, when in Venice, do as the gondoliers do—even if it means raiding their closet.