I knew a man once, who knew me so well that he'd know which seat I'd feel safest in at a restaurant. And he'd always let me sit there. To me, a prime seat. Defensible, strategic.
I don't know why he either always let me choose first or save me the seat he knew would make me feel comfortable and protected.. I don't know if he just figured the chances of something happening were slim, or if something did happen, we'd all be screwed anyway, so it didn't matter. Or if he wanted to spare me the undercurrent of unease that would run through me if my back were to a door. Or if he just always wanted me to feel safe and would do whatever if took no matter how silly.
I didn't notice the day I stopped automatically picking "that" seat when I was with him. But he noticed.
For me, all I felt was utterly safe and content. Enough with him just being with me.
