Final Draft Submission - A Moral Way to Cope 2.0 (06/09)

In Retrospect 22
This post was originally titled "[ESSAY] #26: FINAL DRAFT (SUBMISSION) - A Moral Way to Cope (2.0)". 

This post will be split into two sections. The first is the complete final draft, which I submitted for Monday's September 7th due date. The second will be the brainstorm plan that I used.

I had a much calmer time with the piece this time around, after the Rant draft. I made a new plan, unifying both the dynamic, spunky voice that I usually have, plus the respect and emotion that the story deserved. It was written on 06/09/20, the day before submission. I was a little stressed, but took it steadily. I had all the information there, all I needed to do was present it in a better way.

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Section 1: A Moral Way to Cope (2.0)

 We went out on June 3rd, during Victoria’s lowest transmission rate. The nationwide lockdown was over, but I remained acutely aware of the social distancing guidelines. Stepping through the Melbourne Central ticket gates, our eyes connected. A hot, flustered wave overwhelmed me as he drew dangerously close for a hug. All my instincts were tingling, my body outright craving his touch. Had I been shorter and kept isolated for a couple years longer, I might have turned into a Gollum where my “precious” was physical affection, and glomped him to the ground.

But I didn't. There were too many people around.

 

He radiated a muted confusion, and I quickly changed gears, leading him into Coles for some dental floss I needed to buy. But the narrow aisles and need to distance from others kept him right on my heels. Every inch of skin was going haywire for the ration of emotional touch it had been neglected for so long. It was starting to become unbearable.

 

We soon left and rode the escalators up to Milligram, a deluxe stationery store. But, it was closed. We decided upon our next destination —Club X, an adult store. Despite my normal paranoia about an inexplicably inconvenient family member mistaking a guy I’m with as my boyfriend, and modesty surrounding anything indecent, being cooped up for months had led me to be more daring. Whether that’s a “positive” effect of being in lockdown is yet to be determined — but I wasn’t about to regret holding back and losing sleep over what “could have been”. And as we began to walk, I noticed there were few people around.

 

My body leapt at the opportunity. I asked for a hug, and he accepted. Despite my attempts to rein my feelings in, it all came undone as I melted into his embrace, his warm hug the perfect pressure. I breathed in his masculine, yet calming scent, relishing the moment. I hated how short it was, but I was already scheming, eager to do more, say more, and touch more.

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I live in Victoria, and my boyfriend, N, lives up in Queensland. I coped with the lack of physical touch by seeking it instead through others; cuddling friends every hello and goodbye, holding hands or linking arms whilst walking, and eating and studying together at university. I could get a little cheeky with my straying heart, teasing N about the guys I saw, but it was all in good fun.

 

The most vital aspect of our relationship is communication. And we were good at it — we were entirely open books. We comforted each other over our jealousy of other couples, strangers and friends alike. We worked through problems together, and expressed pain readily.

 

But… when did our conversations become prone to despair and hopelessness? How did we come to this, fending off the words that often ran through our minds? “I miss you.” “I wish I was there.” They were like cold drafts that kept finding ways into a house.

 

Not to mention, something that was happening in my own home. Since my sister had been able to return to school for face-to-face learning, she would usually meet up with her boyfriend in the afternoons. I seethed at the knowledge that she was possibly getting some and I was stuck at home, with the lonely incognito tabs on my phone.

 

Lockdown intensified emotions in numerous ways. I became more daring, behind a screen. I started to further my friendship with a guy friend-turned-crush, G (with N’s knowledge). But it also became easier to further lose motivation with every passing day. As I did less work to fend off burnout, I began to feel guilty with the pitiful amount I was achieving each day. I got stuck in a catch-22 without realising it. Towards the end of May, I was more eager to message N and G rather than struggle with my final assignments for the semester. But like a beacon of hope, G offered to meet up.
 

Leading up to it, I joked to N about G being my “boyfriend for a day”. He was understanding, if a little reluctant. But he wasn’t about to let my self-righteous bullshit, saying no to punish myself and use the meet up as a goal to finish my assignments, which would have only made me more depressed, get in the way. But I wouldn’t take his suggestion — I asked him to order me, so an external figure would give me the permission to override my inner torturer. He did so, and I finally gave in.

G and I were pleasantly surprised by Club X. It was clean, well-lit, inviting, and cheesy love songs played. We wandered through the store; eyes wide with awe. He remarked it was like entering a “real life Pornhub”. What I called the “screams of the damned” flowed through from behind a closed door, the sign above reading “Uncensored Cybersex”. We’d snap our gaze to it when surprised by a piercing moan.

 

While we browsed the BDSM section, G pulled a starter kit down to examine in. My eyes settled on the pink, fluffy handcuffs and—

 

Oh no.

 

Fuck.

 

A heat pooled between my legs as sin after sin flashed through my mind. Though not entirely unwanted, I felt a twinge of guilt, knowing G wasn’t primarily into women. But I thought he was handsome, and… well. The nature of the store hit me like a truck, and I asked if he was “excited” at all. He blinked back with a calm smile and said no. But he enquired if I was. I laughed it off, saying I was just asking. He bought my excuse.

 

Averting my gaze, I noticed the nearby DVD cubicle, sporting a pathetic case count. But now I was imagining pinning G in there and kissing him, out of the clerk’s view. I squeezed my legs to alleviate the feeling, albeit… it didn’t work in the way I’d hoped.

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Where are you reading this from anyway, dear reader? Are you in lockdown where you live? Has another disease plagued the Earth? Or has it been several years after the fact?

 

What have you done? Was there anything you’re not proud of?

How are your relationships now?

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I playfully flirted with G throughout the rest of our date. In Dymocks, I had him slip on a blue puppy apron for photos. At lunchtime, I persuaded him to put his hot meal in with mine in a paper bag to keep them warm. He tried to take it, but I held it away. I ordered him to hold my hand if he wanted to carry our food. He obliged, but it swung out of grasp. He responded with an exasperated smile, but didn’t let go.

 

The final part of our date was at Flagstaff Gardens. We cuddled together on a wooden bench, fending off the blustery winds. We tried to ignore the darkening sky and our passing of the 3pm deadline. In between forehead and cheek pecks, we chattered and people-watched. Friends sat together on benches, dogs were on walks, and a man stumbled around, possibly intoxicated. It felt as though the world was normal, and we pretended there wasn’t a pandemic happening. It was the perfect end to a perfe—
 

"Please don't kiss me."

I had overstepped my boundaries.

G explained that although he felt some attraction towards me, he ultimately respected N’s and my relationship too much, and didn’t want to cause anything between us. Even though N had privately allowed me a single, chaste lip kiss with G, I didn’t tell him that. All I could do was nod, apologise, and swiftly change topics.
 

A part of me cringed, given I had hesitated twice before mustering up the courage to finally do so. But by then, he had changed his mind. If only I’d done it sooner! However, the reality of what I had done caught up to me soon after. Now ashamed of my actions leading up to that point, I berated myself on how stupid of a decision it was to ask. Now I was retracing all my steps, noticing all the ways I had pushed myself onto him. He didn’t deserve to have been treated like that! What if all he could do was politely reciprocate to not hurt my feelings up until now, where he had to say no?

I wanted to run away. I was afraid of the rift I might have created.

 

Even though we held hands on our way to the station, keeping up the good mood at the end of the day, I gave him space once we got there. I wanted it to be over, and I was relieved, yet sad that his train was the first to arrive. He offered a farewell cuddle and I quickly obliged. But as I pulled away, his hands slowed. They drifted down my arms, holding them like a lover would.

 

“W-What are you doing!?” I laughed confusedly, a little panicked. But as the train rushed behind him, he gave me a reassuring smile. He didn’t want to let go. And… I didn’t want him to.

 

When I boarded my train, I sniffed my sleeve. His smell had lingered. And as he messaged me later, so had mine.

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When we’re children, the world seems so simple. If you fall in love with another person than your partner, you’re cheating. And cheating is bad. The world worked in black and white. But as we mature, we learn that there’s a grey area in this spectrum, and it becomes more complex the older we get. We can spend a lifetime pondering different questions and scenarios.

 

Were my actions on the day justifiable? Over the course of this essay, I’ve thoroughly gutted a day I treasured. There are no secrets left worth telling. That day was also three months ago. When I wonder why it stands out so much, I recall that many days before and after it were the same; waking up, eating, working, and sleeping at home.

 

I usually jump to extremes first to reassure myself. “It’s not like I killed or robbed anybody, and I didn’t do it with ill intentions.” Did I deserve such goodness because I’d spent so long in lockdown, purposeless and burning out from assignments and touch deprivation? In a sense, it could be my fault. Aside from doctor’s appointments, watering plants and taking out garbage, I didn’t leave the house. No walks. So you could argue it was my own laziness that led to my irrational and horrible mindset. Or even that I was picky with which few friends I spoke to. Or that I was jobless for so long. “I should’ve done more, actually exercised during my end of year break.”

 

But… does it really matter?

 

There’s no doubt the day brought good things. Following our meet-up, I was socially recharged, and that newfound optimism powered me through my final assessments. G, N and I also have group calls on Tuesdays. It’s created a more structured “support group” for G, who wasn’t speaking to many other people either.

 

I don’t feel any less in love with N. I still look forward to our weeknight calls, hanging out for hours at a time. I’m still transparent about my thoughts and actions. He has gotten a little jealous, and has urged me to pull back, to not take every opportunity to playfully flirt with G in chat. I’m doing my best on that front! G’s also a bit cautious with me now, knowing my crush on him. But there’s no hard feelings between all of us. I’m happy with where I am right now, overall.

 

So, what have I learnt from these experiences? The ways we cope may not be entirely right, but they may not be entirely wrong either, if it gives people something to look forward to. We have to make do with what we’ve got, when our coping mechanisms fall apart and we lose everything we take for granted in these unprecedented times. These arrangements I have now, though makeshift, should be enough to keep our flickering flame of hope alive for a while longer. And if it’s not hurting anybody… I don’t see anything wrong with that.

Section 2: Brainstorm Plan 3