Transcription
I thought it'd be fun to make a list of the seven green flags that prove avoidance not only love you, but have deep regrets. Now, what makes these green flags different is oftentimes they're invisible. They're hidden in moments most people overlook, especially when they're hurt. So, let's start first with green flag number one.
They've had their Milgram moment. You walk into a quiet, sterile room. A man in a gray lab coat greets you. He's polite, professional. "Thanks for volunteering," he says. "We're studying memory and learning here." He leads you to a strange machine. Rows of switches labeled with voltages: 15 volts, 30 volts, 75, all the way to 450. "Every time the learner behind the wall gets a question wrong," he says, "you'll press a button. They'll receive a mild electric shock. Nothing dangerous." You nod. Seems simple enough.
The first few questions are easy. It's a word matching game. You say "blue" and the person behind the wall says "boy." That's correct. Next, you say "grass," but the person behind the wall says "hat." That's wrong. So, you press a button. You hear a grunt from behind the wall. The next answer is wrong. You press again, a louder noise. Wrong again. Another shock. Now, the voice behind the wall is shouting, "I have a heart condition. Let me out!" You turn to the man in the lab coat. "Should I stop?" He doesn't even blink. "The experiment requires that you continue." You hesitate. "Please continue." Your hand hovers over the next switch. It's labeled 3,000 volts. You're sweating now. Your heart is racing. You want to say no. You want to walk out, but you're also in the middle of an experiment. And right now the experimenter is saying, "Obey." What do you do?
Well, in case you haven't figured this out, this experiment was conducted by Stanley Milgram of Yale University way back in 1961. But it wasn't testing memory. It was testing to see if people would harm others if told to by an authority figure. And the results were kind of astounding. 65% of participants obeyed and delivered the maximum shock even when they believed they were seriously harming someone. Now, many showed signs of distress, shaking, sweating, biting their lips, but they kept going because they didn't want to challenge authority. But some did refuse. They broke the script. They said, you know, "No, this isn't right." And for the ones that did refuse, well, that's considered to be their Milgram moment. It's the exact second someone stops following the story they were handed and starts choosing the truth no matter the cost.
Okay, so how does this relate to avoidance and green flags? Well, if you've been watching my channel lately, then you'll often see me talk about this. This, of course, is my rigged die. And the way it works is really simple. An avoidant childhood is full of chaos with their caregivers. Every time they encounter some conflict with the world, it's like a roll of this die. Except unlike going to Vegas, where sometimes the odds are in your favor, the avoidant die is always rigged against them. Their caregiver will always yell at them or punish them or go cold or make them feel like their needs are too much. And with every roll of this die, a core wound begins to take shape: independence overall. But the core wound isn't the green flag that we're looking for. It's actually when an avoidant goes against their core wound to break the script. When they risk saying something real or they contradict their internal authority. For them, that's their Milgram moment.
But I don't want to just leave you with that and move on. So, I'm going to show you what it actually looks like. In the middle of 2023, I had the pleasure of interviewing So, one of the members in my community who had an avoidant actually express their undying love. And her story is perhaps the best representation of a Milgram moment. So I'll let So tell you in her own words.
"Siri actually like talked to me about getting professional help with a therapist to talk about the breakups to work through things to see if we're compatible. He kind of brought up, 'Oh, would he want to go to couple counseling together?' And I was like, 'Oh, maybe,' but kind of brushed it off as like, 'Oh, but you know, we're broken up. Maybe it's just to get through things.' Whereas this time it was like, 'No, I want professional help. I want to talk through the breakup. I want to make this relationship stronger.' And I was like, 'Wow.'"
Now, I just did the whole rigged die thing to prove to you that avoidants grow up in environments where closeness feels unsafe to them. And over time they internalize this like a law of survival. That script becomes their invisible authority figure. It whispers, you know, "Don't show emotion. You don't need anyone. Don't get close. You'll regret it." So when So's ex says, "No, I want professional help. I want to talk through the breakup. I want to make this relationship stronger," he's not just making a suggestion. He's defying a voice inside of him that's been barking orders his entire life. So he chooses intimacy over self-protection.
In the original experiment, people had to choose between two options. You know, you either obey the man in the lab coat or you trust your own moral compass. Avoidants face the same fork in the road. It's just they have different options. They either obey their childhood programming or they take the terrifying step of letting someone in. So's ex didn't just talk. He chose the scarier path. And that's the moment that separates someone stuck in the script from someone rewriting it.
Which leads us rather nicely to green flag number two: breaking a core deactivating strategy. All right, I'm going to make a bit of a controversial statement. Now, I know this video is supposed to be about the seven green flags, but I think that's a bit disingenuous. That assumes that all these green flags are created equally, and they're not. Now, the better way to think of this is sort of like a pyramid. You have the foundation upon which everything is built. That's the Milgram moment I spent forever teaching you about. And then you have the top part. Each time revealing a different part of the person. Now, with that in mind, I'd like to talk about this: Attached. Now, on page 117, the authors Amir Levine and Rachel S.F. Heller start listing off the most common avoidant deactivating strategies. You know, they'll say, "I'm not ready to commit." They'll pine after phantom exes. They'll flirt with others. They'll refuse to say that they love you. They'll pull away when things are going well. You get the idea. Each one of these deactivating strategies ties into the core wound of maintaining independence. And maybe the better metaphor isn't just a wall guarding them. It's a wall that they built themselves, brick by brick, deactivation by deactivation. But here's the thing. You'll know something's shifting when they stop adding bricks and one starts to kind of come loose.
All right, so let's say you're in a mid-conversation and they make a joke to deflect, which is a pretty classic avoidant move. You know, "Whatever, I don't do feelings." But instead of pivoting away, they pause, they soften, they clarify. "I mean, I do. It just takes me longer." That right there, that's the crack in the deactivating wall. It's a subtle yet rare moment where the mask slips just enough. That's a green flag.
So, what does this look like in real life? Well, let's call upon So's situation again in her own words. "So this was actually, yeah, this was kind of recently, um, I think about, yeah, about a week ago where he starts kind of like, 'Oh yeah, can we, can we talk? Can we talk in person about everything?' uh, and that's when he kind of says about, 'Oh, I actually think I want to be in a relationship.' And almost kind of says, 'I'm actually not sure if you want me.' And this is to me. And I'm just like, 'Sorry, it's like, I don't think you want me. I don't think you want a person who's done all of this.' Um, and I was like, 'Oh, so that is the reason you're actually guilt."
All right. So, we have the sort of the classic, you know, "I don't think you want me since I've been acting so crazy." And honestly, I believe that is the "saying or thinking 'I'm not ready to commit'" deactivating strategy. Of course, then comes the clarifying part that we're looking for: "I can't believe I've done all of this and you're still here." But for me, the clarifying part isn't where this particular instance gets interesting. It's the next sentence her avoidant utters: "Do you want to be with me?" Which just so happens to be our third green flag: shame-based vulnerability.
Okay, so a few videos ago, I talked about this concept of a hidden fifth attachment style. And I used these four cups to illustrate it. You know, first you have sort of the orange cup. These are the anxious people. They're always chasing. They're always second-guessing. Then you have the blue cups. These are the avoidant individuals. They're distant. They keep you at arm's length. Purple is the fearful avoidant. They want love but fear it. And then of course you have green: secure. They're calm. They're present. They're emotionally safe. But this one, this one, you don't grow up with it. You actually have to earn it. All right. This specific attachment style happens when someone like an avoidant learns to build security on top of insecurity. Researchers actually call this earned security. And it just so happens it might be the fifth attachment style.
Okay. So, what does any of this have to do with So's avoidant saying, "Do you want to be with me?" Well, it just so happens that he's exhibiting something called shame-based vulnerability. It's a moment where an avoidant admits not only wrongdoing, but a fear of being unlovable. Every time I try to explain this to someone, I always try to get them to visualize an avoidant trapped within a circle of their own making. We already know that avoidants build that circle by implementing all these little deactivating strategies, but really, the shame-based vulnerability, that's something that doesn't exist outside of the circle. It exists within something that they don't want anyone to see. Now, most avoidants struggle with guilt and disorganized emotional processing, but naming their shame signals that they're no longer repressing it. And this really aligns with the research we have on earned security. Those who integrate painful relational experiences can build secure traits over time. So when So's avoidant says, you know, "I don't think you'd want someone like me," and he doesn't run, that's a green flag.
Now, speaking of green flags, it's time we moved on to our fourth green flag: the airport theory. You're standing in an airport terminal, gate 14. Boarding starts in 20 minutes. But you're not the one flying. They are your significant other. You try to stay light. You crack a joke. You smile. But there's a pressure building in your chest, that ticking clock behind you, counting down to absence. You go to hold their hand. They hesitate. You lean in to kiss them. They give you the cheek. You ask, "Hey, will you text me when you land?" They nod, but their eyes don't meet yours. You tell yourself not to overthink it. You know, maybe they're just distracted. Maybe they're just not the emotional type. But deep down, it feels like they've already left.
Now, that moment, it wasn't just your experience. In 1998, psychologists Philip Shaver and Chris Fraley ran a real experiment at the airport. They followed 94 real couples, some flying off, some staying together, and they watched those final moments before a departure, and coded everything. They looked at eye contact, physical touch, emotional expression, and here's what they found. It should come as a shock to absolutely no one that avoidants pulled away. There was less holding, less eye contact, less softness, even at the exact moment when most people crave connection. Why though? Well, because high emotions activate the attachment system, and avoidants, by design, deactivate. They're not faking indifference. Their nervous system is protecting them from intimacy.
Which brings us back to the green flag, what I'm calling the "airport test," which is kind of ironic because you don't actually need to be at an airport for this. So, if you're with an avoidant and they don't pull away in moments like this, if they hold your gaze, if they initiate the hug, if they say something real like, "You know, I miss you already," that's not just sweet, that's rare. It's them breaking their own pattern. That's the moment they stop suppressing love and they let it slip through. That's a green flag.
Of course, there's something that's been bugging me about all of this for a little while. When I was researching this video, I kept stumbling across the same theme amongst avoidants. Like this Reddit comment: "Like, I felt loved by him, but I don't think what I, or perhaps you, would call love, he would. Does that make sense? Also, I've read many DAs idealize love, and if it's not a Hollywood romance, they think it can't be love. Hope that helps." Disney is a great example here. We all love the princesses and their happily ever afters, but it creates a completely unrealistic expectation of what relationships are supposed to be like. I've talked in the past about finite games and infinite games. And in a way, what that Reddit commenter is saying about avoidants having this idealized version of love is the infinite versus finite debate playing out.
So, let's play a game. I'm going to name famous Disney characters, and all we're going to do is list out their relationship status when the movie ended. We'll start first with Ariel. She's married to Prince Eric and sailed off into a romantic sunset. You have Belle. She's in a committed relationship with a transformed prince, literal castle magic, happily ever after. Cinderella is married to the prince after one dance, and she got her glass slipper back, so that's a plus. Jasmine got engaged to Aladdin after he changed the law to marry for love. Snow White is rescued by true love's kiss and rode off with a literal prince.
Okay, here's my take. What these movies teach us is that love is a finite game. Uh, think of this like your favorite video game. You play Mario, you get to the end of the level, and then you win. In Disney, everything's a finite game as well. The princess has a problem. The prince or street urchin, in Aladdin's case, solves the problem. They live happily ever after. The game is won with marriage. But that's not really how life works. Relationships are not played with finite rules. You don't win when you get married, which is why relationships are played with infinite rules. There is no winning. Surviving is winning.
And that leads me to our fifth green flag: They break their notion of love. If you learn one thing from me, let it be this: Avoidants subscribe to the Disneyification of love. And again, it's right here on page 117 of Attached with deactivation strategy number three: The Phantom Ex phenomenon. The Phantom Ex is literally about them holding out hope for the perfect person, their prince or princess charming. But like I said, each one of these green flags in and of itself is a Milgram moment. And this green flag can only occur when an avoidant starts realizing, "Oh, love isn't about finding someone perfect. It's about staying with someone real." It's not flashy. It's Tuesday night folding laundry. It's texting "I'm sorry" instead of disappearing. Choosing to stay after the high wears off.
You also start to see something else beginning to happen as well: the sixth green flag, attachment bids. If you didn't know, this guy, John Bowlby, is considered to be the father of attachment theory. If you read enough of his stuff, you'll hear him talk a lot about the concept of attachment bids. Put simply, an attachment bid is any attempt a person makes to connect with another person emotionally. It can be big, like saying, "I need you right now," or small, like sharing a meme or making a joke or even just sighing a little louder than usual. Psychologist John Gottman, who built on Bowlby's work, found that the strength of a relationship often comes down to one thing: how partners respond to these bids. And there are only really three outcomes: You can turn toward the bid and engage. You can turn against it and attack. Or turn away from it and ignore it.
Now, here's where things get interesting for avoidants. They're often terrible at recognizing attachment bids and even worse at making them. So, when they actually do make one, when they reach out, initiate, or try to connect in their own awkward little way, that's a huge green flag. Now, that's what the research says, but let me tell you what I've actually seen in the field. What does this look like? Well, look no further than So and her success story. Oh, by the way, I was only able to interview her because she was in our community. And if you're curious, here was her exact post in the community: "Avoidant wants to get back together. He said he wants to have in-depth talks to see what went wrong last time, why we broke up, and see if we can improve or find a middle ground potentially with a professional."
Now, as for how she got access to the community, she took advantage of the 50% off deal, and the CER super offer. It basically gives you lifetime access to everything I've ever created, every course, the community, weekly live streams with me, and much, much more. All you have to do if you're interested is simply click the link in the description to get the 50% off deal. Anyways, according to So, "Do you want to be with me? Because I don't think someone would want a person like me." What's interesting about this is that it's an implicit bid for reassurance, but it's filtered through fear and shame. He didn't say, "I need comfort." He didn't say, "Tell me you want me." He said it the only way he knew how: "Because I don't think someone would want a person like me." That's what avoidant bids often look like. They're messy. They're indirect. Sometimes even self-sabotaging. But if you can learn to recognize these moments, these sideways cries for connection and turn toward them, then you're not just spotting a green flag. You're stepping into the real work of love.
Which leads us to our final green flag: the strange situation. This doesn't look like the kind of place where love is tested, but this small room would change how the world understands it. Psychologist Mary Ainsworth called it the "strange situation." She was trying to answer a simple question: How do infants behave when the person they trust most leaves? So, she built a 21-minute experiment. 94 infants, each one between 12 and 18 months old. Each one accompanied by their primary caregiver, usually their mother. The child enters a strange room with toys, unfamiliar objects, and even a stranger. In other words, the child has found themselves in a strange situation, hence the name. At first, the mother plays with the toys, interacts with the stranger. Everything seems fine. Then, at key intervals, the mother leaves. Once alone, the child is observed. How long do they cry? Do they seek the door? Do they self-soothe? Later, the mother returns. In that moment, the reunion becomes the heart of the study. One child runs to the door, sobbing. Another freezes, face blank. A third throws toys. A fourth clings to the stranger in the room. Ainsworth watches it all. And what she saw would eventually become the basis of modern attachment theory.
So, for example, securely attached kids would cry when their mother left, but when she returned, they reached for her. They let her hold them, and within moments, they calmed. They believe love could be interrupted, but repaired. Anxiously attached kids would panic when their mother returned. They clung but also pushed her away. They were inconsolable, angry, terrified. They feared abandonment and punished closeness. And then there were the avoidants. The most heartbreaking of all. These kids didn't cry. They didn't run. They barely even looked up. To the untrained eye, it looks like indifference. But Ainsworth measured their heart rates. Their cortisol levels, a marker of stress, were sky high. They weren't calm. They were coping. They had already learned the lesson: Don't reach, don't need, don't show. That's the same script avoidantly attached adults follow. When things get emotionally intense, especially after conflict, they don't reach for repair. They shut down. They pull away. They pretend it doesn't matter.
So, when an avoidant does something different, when they reach for you after a rupture, even if it's awkward, quiet, or clumsy, it's everything. That's their strange situation. And instead of turning away, they turn toward you. Maybe it's an apology. Maybe it's eye contact. Maybe it's just showing up the next day. But in that moment, they're rewriting their childhood script. And that's your seventh green flag.
Now, a bit earlier I kept mentioning So, who used the CER super offer and the private community that comes with it to navigate her avoidant partner like a pro. If you're interested in taking advantage of this massive 50% off discount, all you have to do is simply click the link in the description of this.