Sir Keeps Pouring Reassurance and Madam Still Wants Another Cup

Neediness can turn a perfectly affectionate relationship into a very grand afternoon tea where Sir keeps bringing reassurance to the table and Madam keeps wondering whether perhaps there might be a little more.

You are not demanding endless proof, naturally. You would simply like to know that he really likes you.

Sir says he does, which is lovely, and for a while you feel wonderful. Then a little time passes and somehow the reassurance has disappeared.

It is rather like being invited to afternoon tea, arriving to find Sir already waiting for you, seeing your name on the reservation, taking the chair he has pulled out and then leaning across the table to ask whether he is quite sure he wanted you to come.

Sir may reasonably believe the invitation covered this.

Madam would prefer something more current.

The Tea Has Barely Begun

Fortunately, Sir is happy to oblige. He tells you that you look beautiful, asks how your day was, reaches for your hand and mentions somewhere the two of you should go next time.

Excellent. Into the reassurance collection it all goes.

The tea arrives in a silver pot, little sandwiches appear in tidy rows, and Sir remains warm, attentive and sitting approximately three feet away from you, which one might ordinarily regard as a promising sign. For a while, everything feels completely secure.

Then you notice that he has not said anything particularly affectionate for the last twenty minutes.

Hmm.

Reassurance, unfortunately, seems to have a surprisingly short shelf life around Madam.

So perhaps another serving would be nice. Do you miss me when we are apart? Are you happy with me? Do you think about me when I am not there? Nothing enormous, you understand. Just a little something sweet to go with the tea.

Sir answers beautifully, and for the moment everything settles again.

Much better.

Right on cue, the scones arrive.

Somehow the Table Keeps Filling Up

This is where the afternoon becomes rather magnificent, because every time reassurance runs low, Sir seems to produce another little portion. A compliment here, a kiss there, a message remembered from earlier in the week. He tells you he had been looking forward to seeing you, suggests another date and may even say, quite plainly, that he is very happy with you.

By now the table is getting crowded.

There is the original invitation, still perfectly good, sitting beside the compliment about your dress, the hand-holding, the plan for next weekend and several affectionate remarks that have barely had time to cool.

Then the lemon tart arrives, and Madam is halfway through it while still wondering whether Sir really means all this.

Goodness. At some point the poor table is going to require an extension.

Because reassurance works beautifully when it first appears; the trouble is keeping it. Sir can tell you in the morning that he loves being with you, and by evening you may find yourself wondering why his message contained only one kiss instead of two. Yesterday’s reassurance was lovely, naturally, but Madam seems to have decided it has expired. We are dealing with today now, and something fresh would be appreciated.

By Dessert We Have Quite a Collection

The little pastries arrive and, rather importantly, Sir is still there. He has not vanished somewhere between the cucumber sandwiches and the pistachio éclair, which really ought to count for something. He is sitting across from you, enjoying himself, and has just asked whether you are free next weekend.

Yet by now the table is so heavily decorated with proof that you could almost build a centerpiece out of it: the reservation, the lovely afternoon, the affection, the attention, the future plans and, most noticeably, the man who continues to turn up.

Madam may nevertheless find herself peering over this small mountain of reassurance and wondering whether something is missing.

Perhaps another pot of tea would help.

And that is the funny little trick of neediness. Reassurance can start feeling less like something you receive and more like something that must remain constantly topped up. You enjoy it, relax for a while, and then notice that the cup seems to be getting low again.

So Sir pours some more, and then some more, until even he may begin looking at the teapot with concern.

By now the afternoon has become strangely devoted to proving something that has been happening right in front of you all along. Sir invited you, came, stayed, ate several tiny sandwiches, survived an alarming amount of Earl Grey and is now discussing dessert.

Madam, meanwhile, is still waiting for the invitation to feel quite convincing enough.

And that is when the whole table becomes rather funny.

The reassurance was never missing.

Madam simply needed it to feel fresh again.