I've known two women with Aspergers who would say something, then later deny having said it. Whenever I've pointed out that what they're saying contradicts they've said before, they'll simply say, "I never said that," with an air of finality.
I'm not sure exactly what their thought process is when they do this. Are they thinking they're pulling the wool over my eyes? Have they somehow actually convinced themselves that they never said it? Or are they somehow thinking that by being so definitive in their denials they are somehow "retracting" their previous statement? The first explanation implies dishonesty, the latter two insanity. Aspies are generally not dishonest, and are usually not quite certifiable; but I can think of no other explanations.
At the same time, Aspies will often tell me I've said things that I know I haven't said. Or they'll so completely misinterpret my words that my meaning will become unrecognizable.
We are all guilty, to a certain extent, of merely waiting impatiently for our turn to talk without completely processing what the other person is saying. But Aspies really do it, even when they're ostensibly asking you a question.
I've had one Aspie ask me what the weather forecast is for that day, and when I said I didn't know, she would immediately shoot back, "Oh, so it's going to be in the 60's?" (This happened on multiple occasions.)
Another pattern: the lamer the excuse, the more Aspergerian the personality.
Back in June, during the publicity surrounding the 70th anniversary of D-Day, I overheard a conversation between a man and a woman whom I happen to know has Aspergers. The man said disgustedly that several recent headlines had proclaimed that "350,000 American military personnel" had been killed during WWII. He then asked, why couldn't they just say "350,000 men," since that's who died.
The Aspie, a doctrinaire feminist, replied, "Oh, well you know, a lot of women died too." She had no clue how many had actually died, she just said that because she wanted women to receive equal credit for sacrifice. The man replied, "Right, sixteen." (I looked it up later; that number is accurate.)
The Aspie hemmed and hawed, then replied, "Oh, well, you know, once you add in the women who died in the factories back home, it was a lot more." She had no clue about this, either, but seemed to feel that this was a face-saving rejoinder.
Let's think about that statement. How many women would have died in factories during those four years? Twenty? Fifty? Two hundred? And how many of those deaths would have been essentially from natural causes, like heart attacks that probably would have happened anyway? A few factory deaths certain doesn't alter the balance of deaths by gender; but the Aspie couldn't admit to being wrong, so she came up with that incredibly lame retort.
A normal person would have replied, "Oh, I hadn't realized the disparity was that great," or something to that effect, and let it go. But the Aspie had to scramble for something, anything, to keep from admitting she was wrong, no matter how lame.
Whenever I've tried to have conversations with Aspies, the feeling I've always been left with is that I've been talked at rather than with. I've had to struggle to get a word in edgewise. And whatever I've said has ended up either misinterpreted or ignored.
In the end, it's an experience best avoided.