Amy Chubb: On the sexual politics of the library
The library is not the lizard. Please behave accordingly.
The unrelenting onslaught of sniffling (ever heard of Kleenex?), pen-tapping, and other disgusting personal habits are just about tolerable in my day-to-day business in the library. Splattering Zest salads all over the table or answering your phone in a teeth-grindingly irritating manner is fine, because we’ve all done it. I’m not going to deny that I too have coughed my guts up all over the Old English section, and I can often be seen nibbling at those pesky bits of skin that hang off a mangy thumb nail. Gross, I know, but whatever – it’s just about excusable in that stinking, sweaty hub of hormones and stress.
But last week something changed. Something that has forced me to speak out against what I never realised was an issue until now: the sexual politics of the library. I had just entered what I like to refer to as “The Twilight Zone”; that stage in the evening where the fourth hour of studying has crept up on you, your fingers are stained with biro ink, and there’s a glob of congealed blood on your inner lip from where you’ve chewed away the hours incessantly. In short, when the slightest of things could really just ruin your whole day. Or week. There I sat, my eyes bleary from trying to decipher The Dream of the Rood, and the comfort of my own bed crying out to me. I flicked my eyes up to scan the room innocently for a familiar face, or even just for something mildly interesting to gawp at. And what met my gaze, I hear you ask? A couple… with their tongues down each others’ throats, in the middle of the library.
Now I feel awkward/cringe/slightly ill at the tamest of PDA, so my reaction to this horrified even me; rather than clearing my throat and whacking up the volume on my iPod, I simply stared. And not just stared, but held eye contact with the culprit for a solid forty-five seconds whilst he finished devouring his girlfriend’s face.
Since this ghastly encounter I’ve noticed it everywhere in the library: people holding hands in the lobby, snuggling in the quiet section, and more kissing occurring all over the tables that we have to sit at every day. And so St. Andrews couples, here is my plea: I am extremely happy that you aren’t bitter and alone, but please don’t thrust it in all of our faces whilst we are getting intellectually turned on.