He's the guy who stole the show without even trying. Honestly, when people talk about the Netflix breakout hit, Love on the Spectrum Steve is usually the first name that pops up in conversation. It isn’t just because he has a voice that sounds like it belongs on a late-night jazz radio station or a high-end nature documentary. It’s because Steve Spitz, a man in his 60s from San Francisco, represents a demographic we almost never see on television: older adults navigating a late-in-life autism diagnosis while looking for companionship.
He's charming. He's incredibly polite. And he's remarkably lonely.
Most reality TV dating shows are built on a foundation of sculpted abs, influencers seeking brand deals, and manufactured drama. Steve is the exact opposite of that. He lives in a beautiful, tidy apartment, appreciates a good pun, and speaks with a vocabulary that would make an English professor nod in approval. But beneath that polished exterior is a raw vulnerability that resonated with millions of viewers. He’s spent most of his life feeling like he was on the outside looking in, only receiving his diagnosis well into adulthood.
The Reality of Aging on the Spectrum
Finding out you’re autistic at 60 is a trip. It’s a retrospective lens that suddenly makes sixty years of "feeling different" make sense. For Steve, the diagnosis wasn't a burden; it was a relief. It explained why social cues felt like a foreign language he was trying to learn from a phrasebook.
People forget that autism doesn't disappear when you turn 18. The "Spectrum" doesn't have an age limit, yet the vast majority of resources and media representation are hyper-focused on children and early intervention. When Love on the Spectrum Steve appeared on our screens, he shattered the stereotype that neurodivergence is a "kids' issue." He showed the world that the desire for connection, intimacy, and a partner to share a meal with is universal, regardless of age or neurology.
Steve’s journey on the show wasn't about "fixing" himself. It was about finding someone who appreciated his specific brand of quirkiness. He’s a man who loves his assistant, Shandra, like family. He’s a man who treats every first date with the gravity of a royal gala. There is something deeply moving about watching a man in his 60s put himself out there, knowing full well the sting of rejection is just as sharp now as it was in his 20s.
What We Can Learn from Steve’s Approach to Dating
Watching Steve date is basically a masterclass in manners. He doesn't play games. He doesn't "ghost." He is intensely, sometimes hilariously, honest. If he likes a woman's outfit, he tells her in a way that feels genuine rather than predatory. If he's nervous, he says it.
There is a specific scene where he’s preparing for a date, and the level of intentionality is staggering. He isn't just picking a shirt; he’s preparing a mindset. For many neurotypical viewers, this was an eye-opener. Social interaction, which many of us do on autopilot, requires a massive amount of "manual processing" for Steve. It’s exhausting. Yet, he does it anyway because the goal—finding love—is worth the cognitive load.
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The Challenges of Late-Life Connections
Let's be real for a second. The dating pool for anyone in their 60s is already a bit shallow. Add neurodivergence into the mix, and it’s basically a puddle. Steve faced unique hurdles that the younger cast members didn't. Most of his peers grew up in an era where autism wasn't even a word used in mainstream conversation, meaning many potential partners his age might not understand his needs or might hold outdated stigmas.
He stayed optimistic, though. Even when dates didn't lead to a second meeting, Steve remained the quintessential gentleman. He didn't get bitter. He didn't blame the "algorithm" or the show. He just went back to his apartment, chatted with Shandra, and kept hope alive.
It’s this resilience that makes him so compelling.
The Role of Support Systems
One of the most heartwarming aspects of Steve’s story is his relationship with his assistant, Shandra. She isn't just an employee; she's his bridge to the social world. She helps him navigate the complexities of dating apps and provides the emotional scaffolding he needs to step out of his comfort zone.
It highlights a major truth about the autistic community: support looks different for everyone. For Steve, it’s not about "care" in the medical sense. It’s about having a trusted confidant to help translate the often-confusing "hidden curriculum" of social interaction. This relationship proves that independence doesn't mean doing everything alone. It means having the right people in your corner.
Why the Internet Fell in Love with Steve
If you spend five minutes on social media after a new season of Love on the Spectrum drops, you’ll see it. "I would die for Steve." "Steve is the purest soul on Earth." "Someone please find Steve a wife!"
The obsession is real.
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But why? I think it’s because Steve represents a kind of sincerity that is extinct in modern culture. We live in an era of irony, sarcasm, and "main character energy." Steve doesn't have an ego. He doesn't have a "personal brand." He just wants to find a lady who likes a good dad joke and a nice dinner.
He reminds us that being "gentle" is a strength. In a world that rewards the loudest and the most aggressive, Steve’s quiet, thoughtful nature feels like a cool breeze. He listens. He actually listens to his dates. He remembers details. He asks follow-up questions. Honestly, most neurotypical men could take a few notes from Steve Spitz.
The Misconceptions About "High Functioning" Labels
Steve is often described by viewers as "high functioning," a term that many in the autistic community actually dislike. While Steve is articulate and independent, the show does a good job of subtly showing the internal struggles he faces. The sensory processing issues, the anxiety of change, the literal interpretation of metaphors—these are all present.
The danger of the "high functioning" label is that it can minimize the very real challenges Steve faces. Just because he can hold a conversation doesn't mean he isn't struggling to filter out the background noise of a busy restaurant. By watching Steve, we get a more nuanced view of what autism looks like. It isn't a monolith. It isn't a "one size fits all" diagnosis. It’s a wide, diverse spectrum, and Steve occupies a very specific, very charming corner of it.
Breaking the Loneliness Epidemic
There’s a broader conversation to be had here about loneliness in the elderly and neurodivergent communities. Steve’s story touched a nerve because loneliness is a quiet epidemic. We see him in his beautiful home, surrounded by his things, but the silence is heavy.
Love on the Spectrum did something brave by showing that silence. It didn't try to sugarcoat the fact that Steve spends a lot of time alone. But by putting him on the show, they gave him a platform and a community. They validated his desire for companionship. They told him—and everyone watching like him—that it is never too late to start looking.
Actionable Takeaways from Steve’s Journey
If you’ve been moved by Steve’s story, or if you’re navigating the world as an older adult on the spectrum, there are some real-world insights to glean from his experience.
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Embrace the Diagnosis Steve’s life improved after his diagnosis because it gave him a "user manual" for his own brain. If you’ve always felt "different," seeking a professional evaluation—even in your 40s, 50s, or 60s—can provide immense clarity and self-compassion.
Build Your Support "Pod" Whether it's a professional assistant like Shandra, a family member, or a dedicated friend, having someone to "body double" or help navigate social complexities is a game-changer. Don't be afraid to ask for help with things like dating profiles or RSVPing to events.
Authenticity Over Performance Steve’s greatest "tactic" was just being himself. He didn't try to hide his autism or pretend to be someone he wasn't. In dating, "masking" (trying to appear neurotypical) is exhausting and ultimately unsustainable. Being upfront about your needs and quirks filters out the wrong people quickly.
Focus on Shared Interests Steve’s dates were most successful when there was a clear, shared activity or interest to discuss. This lowers the pressure of "small talk," which is the bane of many autistic individuals' existence.
Patience is Mandatory Finding the right person takes time, especially when you’re looking for a specific kind of connection. Steve showed us that a "failed" date isn't a failure of character; it’s just a lack of compatibility.
Steve Spitz might still be looking for his "lady," but in the process, he’s found a permanent place in the hearts of viewers worldwide. He’s more than just a "character" on a reality show. He’s a reminder that everyone, no matter their age or how their brain is wired, deserves to be seen, heard, and loved.
The best thing we can do as fans is to carry a bit of Steve's kindness into our own lives. Be a little more polite. Listen a little more closely. And never, ever underestimate the power of a really good pun.
To support the neurodivergent community, consider looking into organizations like the Autistic Self Advocacy Network (ASAN) or local community groups that focus on adult diagnosis and support. They offer resources that go beyond the screen, helping real-life Steves find their footing in a world that wasn't always built for them.