David Can't Come Over Anymore: Rationalizing Rejection

“David can’t come over anymore.”

Those five words ended our family’s friendship with a couple and their children.

Our son David was approaching adolescence, and his good friend A_____ was still years younger.

A___’s mom had been our Maid of Honor, our daughters were good friends, and our two sets of sons were frequent playmates and got along well. Our families were close—in our case, they were our closest friends.

Then the bombshell.

A___’s parents were concerned that David’s Asperger’s behavior might influence their son. They proposed a solution. Our families could continue to be friends. We could continue to alternate sleepovers and share holiday meals. We could trade hand-me-downs and toys as before.

Except David.

If David came for Thanksgiving—say, he must remain with the adults instead of going off and playing with the kids. If we wanted him to play freely, we had to promise direct and constant supervision. Sleepovers were out of the question and unsupervised time with any of their children was verboten.

We pushed back. What had happened? The worst example they could give was that David led their son in a game of loading toys on their treadmill and then turning it on to see the toys fly off the back. Their son wasn’t allowed to play on the treadmill, so our son’s corrupting influence was clear.

David begged for a second chance. Faced with his grief, we tried to talk to the parents, but they would not budge. He wrote them a long and personal letter about how he felt and what they had decided. He was not rude, but he was blunt. They replied with a thank-you note and gave him a gift card.

The parents later told us that they never read David’s note, believing it was disrespectful for a child to address adults so directly. They earnestly claimed that the issue had nothing to do with Asperger's, but was only because of the age difference. Of course that standard didn't apply to siblings or other family friends. Just our socially different son.

David has never forgotten, and observing his heart from outside, I suspect he has never fully recovered. Our good friends rejected our son. They were genuinely surprised that we wouldn’t relegate him to second-class status. They were surprised that we valued our son’s dignity above our family friendship. They thought we would endorse their rationalization.

I am sad that they didn’t have room in their hearts for our whole family. I am sad that my wife is estranged from her college roommate, maid of honor, and one-time best friend. I am sad that our daughters lost years of friendship. But mostly I am sad that David lives with a message that he is unwanted.

No rationalization can make up for that.