Unsubmitted Draft & Extras - A Moral Way to Cope 1.5 (02/09)
In Retrospect 20
This post was originally titled "[ESSAY] #24: A Moral Way to Cope (1.5) (UNSUBMITTED DRAFT)". It was originally uploaded on 06/09/20, however it began work on 02/09/20, hence the altered date.
This post is going to be divided into four sections. The first will be the essay (version 1.5), which I didn't submit because it wasn't perfect. The second will be my brainstorm plan going into it. The third contains the introduction/first page of version 1.0 of this essay. G stated that the introduction was quite abrasive, hence why it was changed for 1.5, even if only just a little bit. The final section will be David's comments, whom I spoke to when I asked for feedback before Monday's submission.
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Section 1: A Moral Way to Cope (1.5)
There are two elements that I feel are vital in a relationship. The first is effective communication - being open about your feelings, worries and where you stand in the relationship helps keep both partners on the same page. The second is one of the Five Love Languages Dr Gary Chapman describes in his 1992 book, which is Physical Touch. Being able to hold hands, cuddle, kiss and be intimate are typically important parts in coupled life.
I believe any lack of the latter can be a dealbreaker for many people. Because when it comes to long-distance relationships, it can be easier to settle for a local option because it’s there and you can get instant gratification. I think there’s less worry of disloyalty since if you have a lover right there, what’s the point? Furthermore, misunderstandings can be cleared up more easily when you’re catching up during a date. The ultimate positive to local couples is that you can live together. Need I say more?
I live in Victoria, and my boyfriend, N, lives up in Queensland. We only see each other once a year in December, however our 2020 meet up is likely to be cancelled thanks to COVID-19. We’re well aware of the generalisation that long-distance relationships are too difficult, unfulfilling, and therefore, not worth it. Keeping our relationship constantly topped up to the brim whilst there’s a tiny hole at the bottom of our glass can sometimes be hard. Writing “*kisses and cuddles*” to simulate physical touch can feel hollow. Our 4-hour calls every weeknight reduce to silent hangouts when I’m busy doing coursework. We know too much absence makes the heart grow envious, as we gaze at couples sharing public displays of affection. The worst part of our relationship though are peoples’ reactions to it. We’ve received our fair share of sympathy and astoundment from local couples who look up to our efforts. I tend to perceive a twinge of superiority and relief from them. “Thank God we’re not those two,” their eyes say. “We couldn’t do that.”
Welcome to the club.
All of a sudden, many local couples have joined our ranks. It’s been good news for adult stores, receiving a rise in sales likely due to the transition to Zoom sex. It marks an adaptation of some kind. However, it’s painfully obvious which ones don’t know what to do when literally left to their own devices. Ugh, the amount of anonymous couples seeking advice after having run out of ideas beyond watching Netflix, playing video games and mutually masturbating over a call… have you thought of sending a care package, or voice-acting comics and books? But the worst people are the ones trying to exploit the intimate partner exemption to hook up on Tinder. Desperate, much?
Ah, but, I can’t talk as if I’ve got the full moral high ground. Because I grew desperate too.
To overcome the lack of physical intimacy in my relationship, I sought more affection from others. I cuddled friends after every hello and goodbye. We held hands, or linked arms whilst walking. We studied and ate lunch together. They weren’t substitutes, but they helped distract from the incompleteness I felt. You can figure out what happened to my “coping mechanisms”.
After a fortnight of classes in March, I returned home, optimistic that “this year will be just like the last, but at home!” Fast forward to late May, and I grew more eager to message N and a male friend-turned-crush G (with N’s knowledge) instead of struggling with my final semester assignments. Come June, G and I are desperate to see each other.
We met up during Victoria’s lowest transmission rate, following the nation-wide lockdown. I was acutely aware of the social distancing guidelines still in place, afraid of someone telling us to separate. But as our eyes connected outside of Melbourne Central station, that suppression nearly flew away. A hot, flustered wave overcame me as he drew dangerously close, expecting a hug. He radiated a muted confusion as I stood my ground, apprehensive of the people around us.
We dipped into Coles for some dental floss I needed to buy. The narrow shelves and need to distance from others kept him on my heels, tantalisingly so. My body outright hungered for his touch, skin tingling as it demanded the physical affection it had been craving from someone of the opposite sex for months. Normally, interacting with a broad range of people kept my crushes in check. But this wasn’t normal.
We rode the escalators up to Milligram, but it was closed. As we set course for Officeworks, I noticed there were few people around us. My body leapt at the opportunity, and I asked for a hug. He accepted.
Leading up to the day, I had joked to N about G being my “boyfriend for a day”, and he was understanding, if a little reluctant. 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 deeply breathed in his manly, yet calm scent, relishing the moment.
Our next major destination was Club X. Nervous of entering alone due to the assumption that adult stores are “sleazy”, we went in and were pleasantly surprised. The place was clean, well-lit, and inviting as cheesy romance songs played. We wandered through the store, eyes wide with awe. G remarked it was like entering a “real life Pornhub”, and I laughed at that. We’d occasionally whip our heads in the direction of a closed doorway, the sign above reading “Uncensored cybersex”, when a particularly loud moan flowed through.
While we browsed the BDSM section, he pulled a starter kit off a rack to examine it. As I remarked on the fluffy pink handcuffs, the first sinful image crossed my mind. Then another. And another. A heat pooled between my legs as I realised the situation we were in, and looked to my companion. G had his hands in his pockets, pondering the products.
“Hey um, are you excited in any way?” I asked him. He blinked at me with a calm smile.
“No. Are you?”
“Hah! No no no, just asking, hehe!” I looked away, inadvertently towards the small DVD cubicle to my left. Now I was imagining kissing him inside there, away from the clerk’s view of the store… I squeezed my thighs together and returned my focus to the wall of silicone dildos in different shapes and colours. When we revisited the vibrator section, I saw a notice saying people were able to “try out” the products in the back room. I wasn’t sure to what extent that meant, but my brain churned out the fantasies nonetheless. I worked hard to keep up my overall air of fascination and fun for the rest of our time there.
Envious of my sister’s outings and park meet ups with her boyfriend over the past several weeks, I went all out. Any reservations I had were squashed by my eager desire to say more, do more, touch more. I playfully flirted with G throughout the rest of our journey in the CBD. As he tried on a blue puppy apron I had put on him in Dymocks, I snapped away on my phone. I secretly hoped we looked like a couple from afar. At lunchtime, I convinced him to put his meal in with mine in a paper bag to keep them warm. He did so, and tried to take the bag, but I held it away. I asked him to hold my hand first. G obliged, then reached for it again, only for it to swing out of his grasp. He gave me an exasperated smile, but didn’t let go.
Our final destination was Flagstaff Gardens, where I had asked him to try on my hoodie. Given our size difference, it was much too big on him, but he posed for photos. I was surprised and touched when G encouraged me to try on his small hoodie jacket. We swapped back, and huddled together on a wooden bench, fending off the blustery winds. We tried to ignore the darkening grey sky, and our phones’ clocks indicating it was past the 3pm deadline on our outing. We exchanged forehead and cheek kisses as we engaged in deep conversation and people-watched. Friends hung out on benches, dogs were on walks and a man stumbled around, possibly intoxicated… the world seemed as normal, and we pretended there wasn’t a pandemic happening.
I jeopardised the day when I asked G for a lip kiss. After twice hesitating, when I finally mustered up the courage to do it, he had changed his mind. He suddenly pleaded,
“Please don’t kiss me.”
G explained that although he felt some attraction towards me (keeping in mind he’s not primarily into women), 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 kiss with G, I didn’t tell him that. All I could do was say, “I-I understand, I’m sorry” and change topics. I cringed inwardly, suddenly ashamed of my actions leading up to that point, berating myself on how stupid of a decision it was to ask. He didn’t deserve to have been treated the way he has been. Now I felt like I had pushed myself on him and all he could do was politely reciprocate or say no. I wanted to run away. I was afraid of the awkwardness it might have created.
Even though we held hands on our way to the station, keeping up the good mood at the end of our date, I hesitated to touch him once we got there. Wanting to give him his space, and wanting it to be all over as soon as it could, I kept my hands to myself as we descended to the platforms. I was both 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 wooshed 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 unconsciously brought my sleeve to my nose. His smell had lingered. And as he messaged me later… so had mine.
...So, where does that leave us? Following that brief period of respite, Victoria experienced its second wave. These words come to you now several weeks into stage 4 lockdown. Legislation was passed this week to extend the state of emergency, and it’s unclear what will occur once stage 4 ends.
How I felt that June outing… I’m not saying it was right, but thanks to lockdown fatigue, I’m not entirely my normal self. I still continue to call and love N as eagerly as I have. The three of us have group calls on Tuesdays and speak together often. It’s been difficult, trying to rein my emotions in during these times, to not go for the cheeky opportunities to flirt via an innuendo, but I’m doing my best. A makeshift coping mechanism, though not fully right, at least not entirely wrong either, if it keeps up human contact and gives us all something to look forward to in our days.
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’re your relationships now?
Either way… in trying times like these, there’s something we could all use. And I suppose a simulated one will have to do. It’s clear that between you and I, at least one of us needs it.
Do me a favour. Bring the book up to your chest now, and hug it. Squeeze it, knowing I’ve filled these words with as much empathy as I can. I know this is a one-way connection but… savour this moment of artificial affection.
Let’s do it for real next time.
Section 2: Brainstorm Plan
Section 3: A Moral Way to Cope (1.0) - Original First Page
There seems to be a widespread attitude that long-distance relationships are too difficult, unfulfilling, and therefore, not worth it. I believe the two reasons for this are that maintaining effective communication and coping with the lack of physical intimacy can be quite tedious and ultimately a deal breaker for many people. It’s easier to settle for a local option because it’s there and you can get instant gratification. I think there’s less worry of disloyalty since if you have a lover right there, what’s the point? And, misunderstandings can be cleared up more easily when you’re sitting at a café, catching up during a date. Heck, you can live together. Need I say more?
I live in Victoria, and my boyfriend, N, lives up in Queensland. We only see each other once a year in December, however our 2020 meet up is likely to be cancelled thanks to the global pandemic. Keeping our relationship constantly topped up to the brim whilst there’s a tiny hole at the bottom of our glass is easy on some days, and other times, hard. Writing “*kisses and cuddles*” to emulate physical touch can be empty on occasion. Our 4-hour calls every weeknight are reduced to silent hangouts when I’m busy doing university work. The absence is most prominent when we gaze at couples holding hands and exchanging little kisses in public.
The worst part is that because we established our relationship before friends in local couples, or long distance ones where they can spontaneously visit each other several times a year, they tend to look up to our efforts. They come to us for advice on communication. I always perceive a twinge of superiority from them. “Thank God we’re not those two,” their eyes say as they squeeze their partner tight, “we couldn’t do that.”
Look who’s laughing now.
All of a sudden, local couples have joined our ranks. It’s been good news for adult store companies receiving a rise in sales likely thanks to the transition to cybersex, which marks adaptation of some kind. However, it’s painfully obvious which ones don’t know what to do when literally left to their own devices. Ugh, the amount of anonymous couples seeking advice online after having run out of ideas beyond watching Netflix, playing video games and mutually masturbating over a call... have you ever thought of sending a care package, or voice-acting comics and books? Though, the worst people are the ones trying to exploit the“intimate partner” rule to hook up on Tinder. Desperate, much?
Section 4: Feedback
It might amuse some of you to know that both N and G read my pieces. Hehe, don't worry, I'm not really that self-conscious about it. It's more that I want them to be satisfied with how I portray them. And, well, they're my biggest supporters, so... it makes sense I would turn to them first!
The reason why this particular draft is 1.5, with minor changes from the 1.0 version, is thus:
G's initial feedback was that while it was a good read, the beginning was a bit coarse, almost like I was antagonising the reader. The LDR lesson I had originally written was abrasive, or at least "bitter". I had rewritten for the submission posted here. G went on to say that it was understandable where that bitterness came from, and I mentioned how I received comments from other couples that would make me feel that way, but he felt it was an uncomfortable start. The end was nice, because I went back to talking to the reader in a more welcoming way. The middle section he found the most enthralling and enjoyable. I did question if he found it enthralling because he was in it, and he did acknowledge that, hehe, but he said he could "put [himself] into your position through it. I like how more is revealed each Club X scene, like the sign (probably meaning the "try the product out" sign). And lastly, he described it as spicy.
Nice. 👌
N himself thought it flowed well, and that the reader gets the idea of the events and how I felt through it all. He liked how I reworked the "1 in 2 people" point towards the end as well (which was unintentional, but not really what I was aiming for) as well as keeping to the new narrative and style. His one criticism was to watch out for "izations"... oh, how I wish spelling was consistent around the globe!
After G's comments, I edited the introduction, making it now version 1.5.
My editor's comments were great too. She had a few queries and suggestions here and there, but overall she liked that I focused in and explored the issue of human touch and intimacy, because it strengthens the piece. It felt more complete as a result, and had a more clear through line.
But the most... eventful? Was David's comments and suggestions, hehe. He asked if we could meet in the Plague Stories general course room to discuss it at 10:45am, about half an hour after his email, on Friday, September 4th. Let's just say I was totally dreading it, it felt like I was being called to the Principal's office!
The first major difference between my first draft submission and this one was that the voice had changed. David felt as though I had smoothed it over, and over explained a bit. There's a hint of the dynamic and fun tone, the kind I use for my blog posts, in the essay, but it was overall squashed by this very deliberate, controlled tone, one I would normally use for formal essays. David said I could submit as it was, and the voice was overall alright, but he missed the blog post voice and wanted to see if I could find a mixture between each one.
He pointed out the ironic, contradictory, witty, messy but fabulous voice in different parts of my original essay, like "Whether that's a "positive" effect of being in lockdown is yet to be determined." or and the funny juxtaposition in talking about Milligram to switching immediately to Club X.
His main point of contention was with the first section, where I was teaching the reader a lesson about relationships, and that I was just telling the reader the story of what it was like to be in one. Mentioning Dr Gary Chapman in the first paragraph didn't make me sound as quirky. And in fact, with the deliberate tone, the whole section made me sound blander than I actually am.
I needed to use a better hook in the opening, perhaps consider what about the day haunts me? I could either start with the beginning of the day, or "I live in Victoria, and my boyfriend, N, lives in Queensland..." and then cut back to the bigger picture of what elements I feel are vital in a relationship. I am firstly amused that it feels like I'm getting told to start later and later in my piece, hehe. But secondly, it felt like I had lost a sense of dynamism in the opening, and that the author knows everything that's going to happen, rather than leaving any room for mystery. It was also just waaay too long. I needed to cut to the chase!
David asked me to explain what I thought my essay was about, and I was stumped. I knew I was writing about relationships, and teaching a moral lesson about my behaviour in these times, but I couldn't really piece it together. He asked me what made the day such a memorable occasion. I replied that there was such an accumulation of stress leading up to it, and it also created a longing for next time. He added that there was such a build up of pressure that assumed an ultra intensity. I... figured out that I needed to re-evaluate what I wanted to say.
I couldn't really tell what my own voice was.
What if I rewrote it and it still ended up being deliberate? I suddenly couldn't figure out how to tackle it. Does my voice just involve some quirky lines? Is it me going a little bit direct or abrasive?
I figured that if I tried, I might end up just going deliberate again, and I sort of panicked on my birthday (Sat, Sept 5th) which... led to a sort of ranty, very loud essay.
You can see it on the next post.
-Katie, the Plague Wanderer
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