My dad phoned just as I was leaving the house to take the dog on her evening walk. Normally I don’t like talking to him in the evenings – he’s been to his club for his liquid lunch and he can be a bit aggy. This was a nice conversation.

This was a slightly different call from usual – much less repeating himself and stories about his mates at the club that I’ve heard a thousand times.

He seemed more interested in me and how I was doing – which really meant a lot because often I feel like I listen to the regular script. These days I understand why he’s got a script because I believe that he is also neurodivergent and social interactions can be very stressful; having a script to hand that can be run without the extra processing and stress. I recognise it in him because I recognise that I could be – and have been – exactly the same.

Following on from my phone call to him at from the Leather Weekend, when I’d forgotten to tell him that I was away for the weekend, he commented that he could hear people talking in the background and that I was with friends – that I was having fun – and that made him very glad.

He asked whether I had a “special” friend. What a quaint way of putting it!

I smiled inwardly at the delicacy of the question, but also the kindness of the asking: he cared, and sometimes I can really doubt that he does because he can be so incurious about me and other people. His remoteness contrasted with my mother’s warmth, against which he felt emotionally cold.

I said that I had friends for the first time in a long time, that with some I go to the pictures, others I go to “interesting places”.

By “interesting places” I knew that he’d assume sites and tourist places, rather than any kind of sexual adventure … although I did indicate that I was not living the life of a monk!

He still asked after my husband – he knows that I still love and care about him, even if we cannot be together any more. I appreciate that.

I felt connected to him emotionally in a way I don’t think I have before.

But he isn’t the one who has changed, I am.