avoid eye contact

This is a story from sister

I NEVER LEARN.
I am nosey and I have a staring problem.  This has put me in alllll sorts of fucked up situations, but none more comical than the midget story.

One day I was in a bar with two of my girlfriends, and they were in a deep conversation while I was being nosy, taking in my surroundings.  My ears perked up when my white friend goes "who brings a child into a bar?!" and my black friend goes "you are retarded, its a little person"
As this is all sinking in I look across and accidentally stare at this Willy Nelson looking character. FUCK. We locked eyes and he thinks that means I am interested.  This will be a long night.

So over walks Mr. Nelson and he is talking towards the floor.  Through the crowd I can't see him, and I am VERY purposefully trying not to pay attention.  However soon the crowd clears and WN comes straight up to me, next to a midget.  They introduce themselves, tell me and my friends that they worked on Oil Rigs, and the purpose of the midget is to crawl through the little spaces no one else could.  (is that legal?)  Then they said they were in town for 2 days and looking for some fun.  Then WN made the midget break dance.

THIS WAS NOT BREAK DANCING.  It was just a poor little midget boy kicking and spinning on the floor.  This is unacceptable, my social justice side kicks in to full effect, and I become that midgets best friend ever, just to get him away from the sketchy guy.  I mean there was SO much wrong.  Willy Nelson looked at least 50, and the midget was only just 21.  WN kept carting the little guy around to each different group of girls and made him do tricks like a circus monkey.  It was awful.

So while WN was going back and forth between me and the white friend, telling each of us that we look alike (we do NOT!) and then individually telling each of us that we are prettier than the other (there is no question here, I am the prettier one), black friend and I were making good conversation with the midget.  He became our friend for the night and didn't let WN guide him around. 

He asked me to go back to his hotel room with him, and I was like no, no thank you.  He still stayed.  He stayed until we left the bar.  He kept asking, I kept saying that I wasn't that kind of girl (shut up! I am not always that kind of girl!)

Then, the most embarrassing realization came true.  So through the night I was noticing even though we were up he still talked looking down, diverting eye contact.  He had some weird gestures, but I didn't really put it together until this moment.
So I was bending down, and there was frankly a full view of my chest at his eye level.  So I was like seriously, I know its right there but relax.  Then I realized he wasn't staring, his eyes were closed.  Then he started rubbing them intensely.  FUCKING A.  Dude is autistic.  That's right folks, my aspergers (however you spell that damn word) boy from a few weeks ago was not my first autistic.  My first autistic was a midget who worked on an oil rig.

I hope my own little leprechaun had a wonderful st. patty's day this week, and I hope he has learned to break dance better.