Misleading Packages – Dating, Presentation, and Neurodivergence

Ever bought a box of whole-grain cereal and found candy inside? At first glance, it looks like you’re getting something wholesome, responsible, maybe even a little virtuous. Open it up, though, and there’s crunchy rainbow marshmallows where the oats should be. That mismatch—between the package and what’s actually inside—isn’t just a silly grocery-store story. It’s also a metaphor for what many of us do in dating.

If you're feeling a bit called out, this isn't just you. It's common for people to package ourselves according to what we think is “desirable.” We borrow traits we’ve been told make a good partner. We emphasize the parts of ourselves that seem safe, palatable, and attractive. And for neurodivergent people especially, who may have spent years fine-tuning how to appear “normal” enough to be accepted, this instinct to repackage ourselves can run deep.

The problem? Relationships built on misleading packaging don’t last. The cereal box gets opened, and at some point, the candy spills out.

The Packaging Game

Dating often feels like a marketing campaign. Profiles are carefully curated snapshots: the best photos, the cleverest answers, the polished version of a life. On first dates, we lead with the stories that make us seem interesting, capable, fun. There’s nothing inherently wrong with wanting to put your best foot forward—that’s part of human courtship.

But there’s a line between highlighting what’s true and constructing an image that hides what’s essential. The person who says they’re “laid-back” but actually feels deeply anxious when plans change. The one who insists they’re “outdoorsy” after two mildly enjoyable hikes. The “work-hard, play-hard” type who is actually exhausted and just wants quiet most evenings.

This is the packaging game: adjusting the label so it fits what we think others want to buy. And like any product mismatch, the disappointment eventually shows.

The Neurodivergent Twist

For autistic and ADHD folks, the packaging game comes with extra pressure. Many neurodivergent people grew up hearing more about what they were not: not disciplined enough, not social enough, not flexible enough, not attentive enough. The feedback often wasn’t just about behavior, but about worthiness.

So, by the time dating comes around, there’s often a finely honed skill set for masking—presenting as “typical” even when it takes extraordinary effort. Small talk scripts, hyper-awareness of social cues, careful monitoring of facial expressions. A practiced smile becomes the default package, even if it costs hours of recovery afterward.

It’s easy to see how this learned adaptation shows up in romantic relationships. If rejection has always loomed large, why wouldn’t someone try to smooth out the parts of themselves that seem less appealing? But when the presentation doesn’t match the reality, intimacy turns into performance.

When the Box and the Candy Don’t Match

The mismatch doesn’t always reveal itself right away. In fact, the early stages of dating often reward it. Someone who comes across as “spontaneous” may get more invitations. Someone who seems “easy-going” may avoid conflict. Someone who appears “social and fun” may be chosen over someone quieter.

But eventually, real life peeks through.

• The “life of the party” partner might actually need several days of solitude to recover from socializing.

• The “super-organized” partner may have ADHD systems that work great—until they suddenly don’t.

• The “easy-going” partner may discover that their strong values lead to friction when deeper decisions come up.

  
  

The result is often a painful cycle: one partner feels misled, the other feels misunderstood, and both blame themselves. The neurodivergent partner may internalize shame—“I tricked them, I’m too much, I’ll never get this right.” The neurotypical partner may feel frustrated—“You’ve changed, I can’t trust you, this isn’t what I signed up for.”

In truth, neither person is wrong for feeling how they do. The issue isn’t the candy. It’s the box.

Moving Toward Honest Packaging

So what does it look like to align the package with the product? It doesn’t mean dumping every vulnerability or quirk on the table during the first coffee date. It’s more about creating resonance between how you present and how you live.

That could look like reframing common traits in more authentic language:

• Instead of “I’m super social,” try: “I love being around people, but I also need time to recharge.”

• Instead of “I’m really organized,” try: “I’ve built systems that usually keep me on track, but sometimes they fall apart—and I appreciate patience when that happens.”

• Instead of “I’m totally chill,” try: “I value peace, but I also care deeply and will speak up when something matters."

  
  

These statements aren’t self-deprecating; they’re clarifying. They tell a potential partner, “This is the flavor beyond the packaging.”

Building Sustainable Relationships

Why does honest packaging matter so much? Because sustainable intimacy is built on trust, not performance. When partners know what to expect, they can navigate challenges together. When someone reveals their real rhythms, needs, and preferences, it opens the door for creative problem-solving instead of conflict.

For neurodivergent people, there’s an added benefit: the relief of not having to mask at home. If the world outside often demands performance, a relationship should be a place where masks can drop. The partner who embraces your actual candy—the quirks, stims, hyperfocuses, scheduling struggles, or sensory sensitivities—is a partner who allows intimacy to grow in reality, not illusion.

And importantly, honest packaging doesn’t mean highlighting only struggles. It’s also about sharing the gifts of neurodivergence: creativity, humor, loyalty, insight, passion. The candy might not be cereal, but it’s still delicious in its own right.

Closing the Box

At the end of the day, you don’t need to trick someone into picking your box. The right relationship comes when someone’s excited about your candy, not the cereal box you thought you had to put it in.

Dating with authenticity doesn’t guarantee every connection will work out. But it does ensure that the relationships you build rest on solid ground. For neurodivergent and neurotypical people alike, that’s the foundation that lets intimacy deepen instead of collapse.

So when you’re tempted to reach for the glossy packaging—pause. Let yourself be the candy in your own wrapper. The ones who appreciate you for what you are will find you, and they’ll be grateful the box and the inside finally match.

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Helen Dempsey-Henofer LCSW ADHD-CCSP

Founder & Clinical Supervisor - Divergent Path Wellness