I shouldn’t say it’s always hard for me to fawn. I find it easy to fawn:
- When I like the fawnee. I guess that’s sort of obvious, but it probably needs to be toted out and examined. Since I like the person anyhow, I don’t have to worry (as much) about whether they’re going to like me. I don’t have to worry about what to say, because we already have things we like to talk about. All I have to do is feature things they want to talk about rather than feature things I want to talk about, and we’re off to the races.
- When I’m not fawning on my own behalf, but on behalf of a third party, like a Cause or a Product. I don’t know why this makes fawning easier for me, but it does. And not just me; a friend told me the other day he doesn’t mind fawning when it’s on behalf of a greater cause. Maybe this gets to the heart of why fawning takes chutzpah: when you’re fawning on your own behalf, you’re saying, “look at me, look at what I want, look at what I’m after.” That’s a chutzpah sink; it’s much easier when you’re saying, “It’s not about me, but about <Important Cause>.”
Fair enough. Fawning is harder than usual for me:
- When the fawnee is indifferent to me. Now I not only have to say, “listen to me,” I have to act like a clown or make a fool of myself to get his/her attention. I’m not sure why I equate drawing attention to myself with acting like a clown or a fool, but I do. And to make a clown of myself and then have the fawnee ignore me: it’s humiliation++.
- When I have to compete with other fawners. Right here is why I hate networking events: many-to-one fawners-to-fawnees. Good definition of Hell: I can be rescued from eternal torment in a lake of fire, but the Way Out is to fawn on Satan or one of his top lieutenants at a networking event where all the other damned souls from my lake are fawning to get out as well.