Photo by Alice Alinari on Unsplash
Fawn: to behave abjectly before a superior, to seek favor by servile flattery
or exaggerated attention, to ingratiate oneself by a menial
or subservient attitude. ~Merriam-Webster dictionary
You impressed me. The way you carried yourself---erect, poised, sure-footed in sensible shoes on the cracked city sidewalk. Your patterned vintage scarf paired nicely with your tweed jacket and upswept hair. I sensed a breezy que sera attitude as you and your partner window-shopped on an overcast October day. Then you did something that destroyed that impression. And in that moment, I was seized with a repulsion that took time to unpack.
I do not recall making eye contact with you as I briefly held open the antique oak door to the cafe for one of you to assume. I went left to make my way to a window seat overlooking the gardens while you went to take your place in line. By the time I got behind you, your man was ordering for you while you held back, just off to his right side, and slowly, deliberately stroked his back.
Your fawning spoke volumes, it was code for, “He’s mine.” That circle you traced on his back? It was symbolic of the wall, the protection, you intended to draw around your relationship. Circling the wagons, taking defensive action, preparing for an attack, your fear was palpable. Fear of losing something you had, fear of not getting something you wanted. Energetically, you cast me an unmistakable air of one-upmanship.
“Fawn types seek safety by merging with the wishes, needs and demands of others. They act as if they unconsciously believe that the price of admission to any relationship is the forfeiture of all their needs, rights, preferences and boundaries.” ~Pete Walker
[As an aside, and before you jump all over me, readers, for not having a romantic bone in my body, let me say, this was not about romance or love. Love is expansive, it’s welcoming, it’s inclusive. Fear, its opposite, contracts. It keeps people at arm's length. This one-way fawning, one-sided touching, was a shot across the bow, fired to warn me and other women, to back off, to keep our distance, to move along.]
Without reciprocity, your man stood stock-still, letting you fawn, more intent on eying the barista beyond the counter. Tell me, does he enjoy, encourage, require you to fawn? Does he expect it? Does he get off on your public caress? Does he need to be revered in public, and if so, what does he demand in private?
Who imprinted on you? Who taught you to fear, mistrust, suspect other women? Where did you learn to sacrifice self for love? Who told you that fawning would prevent your man from straying?
"No matter how well you think you carry yourself, if you do not value yourself it will show. And you'll be treated by what people perceive you as. Know who you are and be confident in it. Know your worth and act on it." ~Author unknown
Like an animal marking territory, territory that I, thirty years your senior, had no intention of violating, you staked your claim. Fear not, child; I have no interest in, no desire to touch, hold, fawn, fuck your man. I'd never interrupt the symbiotic underpinnings of your coupling.
Sadly, you underestimated, undervalued me, my womanhood, our sisterhood, and for that I pity you.
For more information on the psychology of fawning, check out: https://bit.ly/3NbTOSY
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