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Recently, I had a man approach me and ask me out for tea.
I had actually been feeling a connection with this man for a few years. We had met several years prior, and our paths happened to cross again.
When he asked me for tea, I was curious. But I also had this larger, more overwhelming desire to say no because whatever I was doing for myself at the time felt much more meaningful.
I think I was doing the laundry (Haha).
I told him I would let him know when I was available.
And then he messaged me again.
He asked again if I was available to have a cup of tea, and the part of me that felt bad saying no finally said yes.
So I went.
We connected, and we had an honest and vulnerable conversation over a cup of tea. We talked about how, even though we had met many years ago, we had both felt a deep connection and a curiosity about what that connection might be.
I shared pieces of my attachment system with him. He shared pieces of his.
It was a beautiful, vulnerable conversation.
He asked me a question:
“How can I love you?”
I told him, “Turn toward me.”
And that is exactly what he began to do.
At the end of our time together, we kissed goodbye. I left feeling my heart open. I felt open to connecting with him again.
He was turning toward me.
He asked to see me the next day.
And then again.
I could feel his energy coming toward me. It wasn’t overwhelming me, but I was certainly feeling it, and I welcomed it. I could feel him liking me, and with it came a feeling of control. I noticed myself enjoying the position of being wanted more than my usual stance of wanting.
We saw each other again and continued to kiss and talk and share. We talked about what our love needed, what kind of love my Venus likes, what kind of love his Venus likes.
And I could feel myself opening to him more.
But when he asked to see me yet again, I noticed something fascinating happening inside of me.
Even though I was enjoying spending time with him, I was allowing my avoidant to lead.
And my avoidant has never usually led.
My avoidant (he—as I see the avoidant as the immature masculine) usually lurks in the shadows and comes out later, after my anxious attacher has had her way. He tends to appear once there is commitment, once there is something to lose, once someone has gotten close enough to actually hurt me.
But this time, I could see him right there at the beginning.
So I shared this with the man with whom I was relating.
“You’re seeing my avoidant,” I said. “And I’m showing it to you and I feel powerful and I feel in control when my avoidant is leading.”
That was the piece that caught my attention.
Because I began to see something about avoidance that I hadn’t understood in quite this way before.
There can be tremendous safety in being the one who is wanted.
If you like me more than I like you, I have the power.
If you are turning toward me while I am deciding whether or not to turn toward you, I have the power.
If you are asking and I am deciding, I have the power.
And underneath that power is protection.
Being wanted can feel so much safer than wanting.
Wanting requires something from us.
Wanting asks us to acknowledge desire. And to acknowledge desire is achingly vulnerable.
Wanting makes us vulnerable to heartbreak.
This is where I believe the anxious and avoidant attachment strategies are far more similar than we often understand.
They may look completely different from the outside, but as I have said before in my articles, they are two sides to the same coin. The anxious attacher pursues connection in an attempt to feel safe. The avoidant uses controlled distance in an attempt to feel safe.
But both are negotiating with the same fundamental vulnerability:
What happens to me when I put my heart out to be seen?
Both are attempting, in different ways, to protect themselves from the pain of abandonment and the possibility of heartbreak.
There was something profoundly intriguing about allowing my avoidant to lead. To allow a part of me that usually hides in the shadows, only surfacing later in a relationship, to come forward from the beginning. To allow the part of me that truly fears love to be present in the space. It felt healing to me to claim this part of myself visibly.
This was a wildly different experience for me. I could feel how easily the avoidant mistakes being desired for being safe, and how quickly control can become a strategy for protecting the heart.
And so…the stories of love and attachment continue.
~
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