WARNING: If you don’t want to laugh at my weirdness and you don’t want to read about crazy sex and weird fetishes, stop reading now.
I have to get this off my chest so I can stop being annoyed by it and move on with life.
Don’t get me wrong here. I like sex. And, at the risk of sounding somewhat risqué, I also enjoy the occasional, non-vanilla foray away from the same ole same ole – if you’re married long enough, you have to be creative to keep the intimacy spark alive. But SERIOUSLY, when I heard about the book Fifty Shades of Grey, I put off reading it because I just didn’t have the time to get absorbed in another book series. I thought I would wait until the heart of winter when I had more time in my days to really savor a good book. However, I heard about it so often from so many people – even one of my guy cousins was reading it – that I had to see what all the fuss was about.
Before I get into this, though, I heard from one lady who read it that she found herself skipping through pages at one point because it all started sounding like the same thing over and over again. I wondered why anyone would ever skip pages in a book…well, unless they were reading a children’s book that they had read hundreds of times to a wide-eyed, fascinated child.
Now I know. HOLY SHITSNACKS, Batman! Can you say overkill?
For those of you who haven’t read it yet, stop reading if you don’t want to hear about parts of the plot.
The writer, E. L. James is either a dynamite writer or has an amazing editor because the writing itself is fantastic. She’s ridiculously witty and I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed all of the emails between Christian and Anastasia, the two main characters. I laughed out loud more than once, with genuine amusement at the wit of their conversations and I wished that more of the book could have centered on plot, with some crazy “kinkery fuckery” (to quote the book) interspersed throughout the book, rather than the other way around.
For those of you who have read it. WTF??? I don’t know about you, but did you notice the pattern? I actually stopped reading the series half way through the second book, for about two weeks, because I just couldn’t handle reading the same thing over and over and over again. I actually found myself skipping through pages so I could bypass the ridiculous sex scenes and get back to the plot of the book. And to think I couldn’t fathom why someone would want to do that while reading a book. LOL.
The first few sex scenes were, well, Hot (Capital H, Hot), but after say the twentieth scene and the ridiculous, insatiable lust that the main characters feel constantly for each other (with zero mention of reality – morning breath, how rank people smell after they have crazy sex and then sleep and then have sex again, complete with going down on each other and yada yada yada), I started giggling and rolling my eyes. Uh huh. Surrrrre. Okay then. Skip. Skip. Skip. Does anyone else see how ridiculous this is? Has the writer ever been in a relationship? Is she married to an Adonis who makes her wet just looking at her? Where can I get one of those?
Yes, everyone knows people are at the height of horny when they first get together, but the other side of this (and totally disregarding the blindfolds, whips, handcuffs, butt plugs and other non-vanilla props they use to “enhance” their sex in the book) is that the main guy in the book is a total whack job and we women are ruled by emotion, not hormones. Controlling, demanding, self-destructive, totally messed in the head. If I was with a guy who constantly played mind games, made me second guess myself, tried to control everything I did and lost his shit if I “disobeyed” him, I’m 100% positive that I would be running away with a fire shooting out of my ass to speed up my departure!!! But she looks past all of his deal-breaker flaws because he’s drop dead gorgeous. I just kept thinking, as I was reading, Really? She’s going to let him treat her like that? She’s going to forgive him for that? I would rip him a new one and leave him sputtering in my dust. Hot and rich be damned, the guy is 2000 shades of fucked up, not fifty. It got to the point where his ridiculous behavior and the main chick’s penchant for putting up with it, annoyed me so much that I found myself rolling my eyes at the ceiling and snorting about every second or third page. Sometimes, I laughed out loud as I shook my head and skipped pages, thinking one word, pushover.
Last night, on a whim, I finished the second book, complete with page skipping, eye rolling, snorting, scoffing, and a more than my fair share of exasperation. I’m done. The third book can suck it. I will actually miss the writer’s style, so I think I will track down some more of her books, but as for Mr. Fifty and Miss Pathetic Pushover, I’m done with them. Despite the witty writing, reading the books actually made me super grateful that my man is straightforward, easy to read and, thankfully, simple in his manly needs.
Good night, my friends. I wish you all enough…