“Iza paravana”: the woman who doesn't feel desired

Every small town has its rules, just like every bigger one. It's just that in a small town you know in advance who the predictable characters are. Like the one man who circles the town centre every day, smoking a cigarette. Like Buddhists with their five-hour walks, he repeats the same ritual every day – his own Groundhog Day on our square. In the same way, every street has someone who sits in the same spot every day, drinks coffee at the same time and greets people with the same gesture.

Every marriage has its routines, and every life its unspoken stories. And somewhere between that routine, between obligations, children, work and tiredness, she realises she no longer feels desired.

“Iza paravana” – a story of longing and routine

The play Iza paravana (“Behind the Screen”) by the KNAP theatre, with Katarina Baban and Vladimir Posavec Tušek, portrays exactly this play of attraction, routine and unfulfilled desire.

She is a chatty, free, direct woman who comes for a check-up through a connection, without a referral. He is an oncologist, used to rules, strictness and the predictability of his daily work. And then she bursts in – like a breath of unpredictability, like something he isn't, like disorder in his orderliness. For years she comes for check-ups. Alongside marriage, motherhood and the relationship, she slowly sinks into herself. He sees it. The attraction is there, but never acted on. There is longing, fantasy, perhaps the only moment of presence and pleasure in her life – once a year, in a doctor's office. Isn't that a little grotesque?

Fantasies – escape or need?

How many women fantasise precisely in the moments when they're allowed to think only of themselves?

When, once a year, maybe at the doctor's, at the hairdresser's or in those few minutes locked in the bathroom, they can feel something outside the routine? Maybe fantasies don't come from wanting someone else, but from a forgotten need to be desired, to be seen. And maybe they're the only way to remember who they were before they became a good wife, a responsible mother, a reliable worker.

Behind the screen – behind the lives we lead

Maybe the problem isn't the husband. Maybe it isn't the other one either. Maybe the problem is that somewhere along the way she forgot herself. I felt that way too. I too looked for validation. And yes, I had affairs. Not out of revenge. Not out of hatred. Not because my husband was a bad man. They happened because they reminded me that I exist. That I'm alive. That I'm not just someone's wife, someone's mother, someone's function. Sometimes I think those secret episodes were the only moments when I was fully present. When I wasn't thinking about yesterday or tomorrow, only about that touch, that look, that moment when I was me and not someone's duty. It isn't a justification, nor a confession, just a fact. How many of us really have time for ourselves? How many of us even know what to do with ourselves when we're left alone? Because it isn't only about the man who no longer sees us, but also about the fact that we ourselves stop looking. We stop liking ourselves. And then someone comes along who sees us.

And suddenly, we're here again. Maybe, instead of waiting for someone else to tell us we're desirable, we could find a way to feel it ourselves. Without validation. Without questions.

Just us.