Unsubmitted Draft & Extras - Rant Essay (05/09)

In Retrospect 21
This post was originally titled "[ESSAY] #25: Rant Draft - What IS My Voice? (UNSUBMITTED DRAFT)". It was originally uploaded on 06/09/20, however it began work on 05/09/20, hence the altered date.

This post is doing to be divided into three sections. The first will be the draft, the second will contain the brainstorm plan I used, and the final will be an "aftermath", where I re-evaluated where I wanted to go with this piece.

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Section 1: Rant Essay - Going All Out (No real title)

My life was exactly where I wanted it to be in 2019. I attended university about four days a week, came to classes an hour early, ate and studied with friends to bond with them. In the evenings, I called my boyfriend, N, who lives up in Queensland, for hours at a time whilst I did classwork. I would regale him with excruciating detail of my days, rant about some coursework, and tease him about any light crushes I had on friends. He’d get a little mock-jealous, and I’d laugh and tell him that of course he was always going to be one and only, and to forgive my straying heart a little bit. It would all go away when we could finally live together. Then I’d have everything I’d ever need.

I thought 2020 was going to be the same. I thought this Corona thing would blow over in a couple of weeks like the Ebola pandemic seemed to, at least, from the perspective of someone who lives in a first world country. And I even attended university for two weeks in March, knowing that this virus was going to be far away from me. Because nothing ever happened to me, a person who lived in one of the world’s most livable cities, with a pretty great government. No qualms here.

Yeah, well, anybody who thought like that is at home right now.

I laughed and shook my head when I realised the irony of the situation. Jobless and having lazily stayed home for the 4 month break, I was back at my floor desk for remote learning. I was foolishly optimistic, “This’ll be just like last year, only at home!”. I thought we’d be home for one or two months, and Australia will have eradicated it and we’d be out and about again, albeit with closed borders. RIP the people who had their birthdays in March, April and May, right?

It’s September. And I’m in stage 4 lockdown. At the possible tail end of it, but, still.

I didn’t anticipate that aside from burnout, which was a pretty bad side effect thanks to thinking I had to be productive all the time (thanks capitalism), I was gonna suffer from mad loneliness and touch starvation. I know that it’s more avoidable if you’re living with a family but fuck, it really messed with me. I put on coats to cover up skin tingles. I scratched myself when an itch wasn’t there, then made an itch in the process and thus gaslighted myself. This isn’t something they teach you in the history books about quarantines.

I read an article talking about touch deprivation, and neurologist Dr Katalin Gothard said that “Social touch stimulates the release of opioids and oxytocin in the brain”, the effect of which is similar to taking opioid drugs, which make you happy. So effectively, I was suffering withdrawal symptoms from a drug called physical affection. It kinda makes me sound like I’m addicted to hugs, which I’m not but goddammit, there goes my coping mechanisms for dealing with a long distance relationship; seeking affection from others to distract from the incompleteness I felt in the place that matters most.

Sometimes I remember the presumption that long distance relationships are difficult, unfulfilling and therefore, not worth it because maintaining effective communication is hard, and the lack of physical intimacy can be a deal breaker for some people. Then there’s the folks with trust issues who get so paranoid their partner is cheating on them, which, granted, maybe they are, but still. I think there’s less worry about cheating if you’re in a local relationship, and besides, ya’ll can live together. I’ll concede that’s the superior part of local couples. Though, the inability to deal without physical touch makes me wonder if the ulterior motive to relationships is sex sometimes… I mean, geez, some of the Tinder screenshots and anonymous submissions seeking a partner… let alone, the ones now, trying to exploit the intimate partner exemption. Desperate, much?

Hah, though, welcome, all of you local couples joining our ranks. Have you thanked Corona yet?

Ah, but, look. I can’t talk as though I’ve got the moral high ground here. Because yeah…

I got a bit desperate too.

Towards the end of May, I was more eager to message N and a guy friend-turned-crush G than struggling with my final semester assignments. I was crashing and burning, trying to fend off burn out, but getting more miserable because I was achieving less and less in my days. What a catch-22, eh? Fuck. Not to mention, I was envious of my sister’s outings with her boyfriend. Since she had been able to return to school for face-to-face learning, she would usually meet up with him after her school days. Frustrated at the knowledge she was possibly getting some and I was stuck at home, with the lonely incognito tabs on my phone, it became too much to bear.

Anyway, come June, we’re desperate to meet up. He offers to. Initially I didn’t accept, thinking it was more self-righteous to punish myself, to use this meet-up as a reward for finishing off my final assessments. Which was, total bullshit, and N could see how exhausted I was. So he encouraged me to go, and I eventually gave in.

We met up at Melbourne Central. I don’t know why, but as I came into the station, it felt like I was meeting a complete stranger. But as our eyes met, relieved recognition washed over me… and then a hot, flustered wave followed. He drew dangerously close, expecting a hug. But I was acutely aware of the social distancing guidelines still in place, even after the nation-wide lockdown. He radiated a muted confusion as I didn’t respond.

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, so tantalisingly close. I outright hungered for his touch, craving the physical affection it had been seeking from a guy for the past few months. Had I been shorter and kept isolated for a couple years longer, I might have turned into a Gollum where my “Precious” was physical touch.

We then rode the escalators up to Milligram, a deluxe stationery store. But it was closed. We decided upon a destination I had been excited to see - Club X, an adult store. Despite my usual paranoia about being seen in public with a guy a family member might mistake for my boyfriend, and modesty surrounding anything indecent, being cooped up for months had led me to become more daring. I wasn’t about to regret not doing XYZ for nights on end again. Though, whether that’s a “positive” effect of being in lockdown is yet to be determined. But as we began to walk, I noticed there were few people around. My body leapt at the opportunity, and I asked for a hug. He accepted.

You know Adam and Eve? And how Eve takes the apple of temptation from the snake?

Yeah. That happened.

It was like a pent-up release of all the stress, frustration and loneliness I had felt accumulating. I practically melted into his touch, breathing in his calming, manly scent. I cursed how short it was. But I schemed to get more. My enthusiasm started to build.

We were surprised by Club X. It was clean, well-lit, and inviting. We spent the first half of the time mostly silent with awe, wandering through the store. G described it like “stepping into a real life Pornhub”. Accompanying the cheesy love songs playing in the store, were what I called the “screams of the damned”, flowing behind a door, the sign above reading “Uncensored cybersex”. We’d whip our heads to it when a particularly loud moan flowed through.

 

As we checked out the BDSM section, G pulled down a starter kit to examine it. My eyes settled on the pink, fluffy handcuffs.

Oh no.

Fuck.

A heat pooled between my legs as sin after sin flashed through my mind. Though not entirely unwanted, I felt a hint 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 inquired if I was.

“Haha! No no no, I was just asking!” I replied. He bought my excuse.

Averting my gaze from those products, I noticed the nearby DVD cubicle, with a pathetic 15 case count in total. But now I was imagining somehow getting G in there and kissing him, out of view of the clerk… I squeezed my legs together and tried to control myself, though I knew the deed had been done.

Envious of my sister’s outings with her boyfriend, I went all out on this date. Any reservations I had were squashed by my eagerness to do more, say more, touch more. I playfully flirted with him throughout the day. At Dymocks, I put a blue puppy apron on him and snapped away. I asked him to rate how much he had wanted to see me, and teased him when it was a “7-8”. At lunchtime, I tricked him into putting his hot meal 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 free hand if he wanted to carry our food. He obliged, but it swung out of his grasp. He gave me an exasperated smile, but didn’t let go.

The last part of our date was at Flagstaff Gardens. We cuddled together on a wooden bench, fending off the blustery winds. We ignored the darkening sky and our passing of the 3pm deadline. chatting and people-watching. Friends sat together on benches, dogs were being walked, and a man stumbled around, possibly intoxicated. It felt as though the world was normal. And we pretended there wasn’t a pandemic currently happening.

“Please don’t kiss me.”

I had overstepped my boundaries. G explained that although he felt some attraction to me, he ultimately respected N’s and my relationship too much. Trying to alleviate the awkwardness, I apologised, and told him I understood, before changing topics.

I was internally cringing. Berating myself on how shit a decision it was. Getting rejected was hard enough, but… then I was starting to find the flaws in our day. Did he really like me, or was he just reciprocating out of politeness? Was I actually gross? What if he didn’t want to see me any more?

I wanted this date to be over. I wanted to run away. Erase time.

Although we held hands on our way to the station, keeping up the positive mood of the day, I hesitated to touch him once we got there. Wanting to give him his space, I kept my hands to myself as we descended to the platforms. I was both relieved, yet sad as his train came first.

He offered a farewell hug, and I obliged. As I quickly pulled away, his hands lingered. They drifted down my arms like a lover would.

“W--What are you doing?!” I laughed in a confused panic. But as the train wooshed behind him, he gave me a reassuring, sad smile.

He didn’t want to let go. And… I didn’t want him to.

...I used to diss on people in reality TV shows like The Bachelorette, because it was so obvious who the better pick was. But… I can sort of understand it now.

Don’t get me wrong. I love N, wholeheartedly. I want to marry him someday. I know my future lies with him. But I… feel like I understood a lot of things as a result.

Commentating on The Bachelorette, FriendlyJordies joked that “this is why humans weren’t meant to be in these little couplets, but a massive orgy”. I mean, that’s probably true from a sexual perspective…

What are you supposed to do when you want the best for two or more people because you love them wholeheartedly?

(Left incomplete, rage quitted here.)

Section 2: Brainstorm Plan

I understand the text might be hard to read, so, I'll write down what I wrote here:

• Title: "Rant Essay - Going Full Abrasive (in an attempt to be spunky & outgoing)"
  
• Speech bubble: "With a more spunky & daring voice comes a more bold plan!"
• "My coping mechanism was gone. There goes my drugs. ...I'm not addicted to hugs or anything!"
• "I know I stayed inside for so long b/c my own laziness, yeah. Still!"
• "Nothing felt real anymore. School. Friends."
• Hard enough being in an LDR."
• "Thanks, Corona." ("Thanks, Obama.")
• "I mean well, but that doesn't mean I can't be dangerous."
• "I used to shit on people in shows like The Bachelorette b/c it was so obvious who was the better pick but I kinda get it now. Jordie couples/orgy line." (In a video, FriendlyJordies aka Jordan Shanks jokes about how humans weren't meant to be in "these little couplets" but in a massive orgy. This was probably in reference to The Bachelorette 2020)
• "Thought it was gonna be over soon, bOY was I wrong."
• "Ridiculous jump to rationalize, "Look, it's not like I killed anybody or anything.""
• "Womanly wiles - I tricked him!"
• "I still love him (N) just... aargh. Why is everything so complicated?"
  

 Section 3: Aftermath & Re-evaluation

So, I sort of crashed and burned on my own birthday evening as I wrote all that and executed it. I called up N to discuss the piece and I finally decided to re-evaluate where I needed to go with it. The messages that this essay COULD be conveying were:

• That LDR’s are hard and that you can make mistakes?
• COVID-19’s really upped the difficulty in LDR’s and relationships in general
• COVID-19’s not only affected our beer intake, Daniel Andrew’s hair colour, and our goddamn jobs, but also our relationships.

And then what I had SAID in my piece (not necessarily a lesson, just information) so far was:

• I was a really burnt out, and frustrated student. I sorely missed everything I had taken for granted.
• The heart can be a really complicated matter, especially when you love two people at once in this monogamous society, and don’t want to risk any issues.
• COVID-19 has heightened emotions.

I wasn't really... sure where I wanted to go with the relationship aspect. It felt so obvious but I didn't... really feel like I had anything substantial to contribute via that route. But then I meditated on a particular line from A Moral Way to Cope (1.5), which was:

"The ways in which we cope may not be entirely right, but they may not be entirely wrong either, if it gives people something to look forward to."

This... was my way of rationalising the situation in my mind. And I thought it was quite clever. To use it as the REAL lesson, under the initial layers of relationships and love and such, would be satisfying.

I ultimately wanted the reader to feel complicated. It's a risqué story, the date, the kind you would read about in the Secret Confessions section of a magazine like Take 5 or That's Life!. It's what you read when in the bathroom, and forget about promptly. I sort of wanted to hone in on that idea, but add a literary sense to it by putting me in a courtroom by the end of it, a deeper layer, per se. Was I justified in my actions? My sister was angry and called me out for doing wrong when I told her G's smell had lingered on my hoodie. She had made me sniff her hoodies a few times, now actually OWNING some from her boyfriend, to relish his scent. Why couldn't I do the same just for once? Am I so wrong?

Ah, I also made a sort of blurb (by accident) trying to plan out the next draft. Here it is:

"COVID-19 has strained everything, from jobs to lives, but above all, our relationships. All of a sudden, we have been stripped of what we take for granted - meeting our loved ones freely. It has especially impacted matters of the heart, creating heightened emotions after people have been cooped up in their homes for so long. Feeling the brunt of burn out after her structure for dealing with the complex relationships in her life has fallen, how will this one student cope with her desperation for physical touch?"

I'm blabbering on here about the final draft. A final note I do want to make though - David! If you're reading this. I know I talk about rants and such here, but I hope you know it doesn't mean I have any hard feelings towards you. I deeply considered your feedback because I knew you had familiarised yourself with everybody's blogs. You spoke what you thought was best for me and I couldn't be more grateful for your guidance. I think the final product should show off that mixture you were talking about, ehehe.

-Katie, the Plague Wanderer