I have read, and now re-read, 50 Shades of Grey, 50 Shades Darker and 50 Shades Freed, the trilogy of garbage written by EL James.
As most everyone has noted and laughed about, the titillating topic of a young woman with her dominant boyfriend/partner has captured the attention of seemingly every middle-aged, white lady across every continent and beyond. At this point, women from other galaxies who have never had anything but hetero, missionary sex with no foreplay have read this book and gotten excited.
But it’s not exciting. The sex is so bad and horrible to read. It’s not sexy AT ALL. In fact, it’s horrible. Furthermore, it’s damaging, as it portrays those who practice BDSM and ascribe to the lifestyle as deranged, abusive, mentally ill and in need of intensive therapy and help. OKAAAAY.
Not only that, it’s written by someone who finds words hard to write. This is one of my favorite passages written, OF ALL TIME.
‘But my hips start to move involuntarily, gyrating to their own rhythm, caught up in his cool, vanilla spell.’
50 Shades of Suck posts quotes from the three books. Head over there and read. You will snort with laughter, but you will also probably die a little inside. Die at the idea that stupid, embarrassing Twilight fanfic can become a cash juggernaut and published material that is so bad, so poorly written and edited at a time when writing is so amazing and easily obtained and well-done, even by amateurs and plebs like us, that you wonder if the world is no longer spinning.
Lastly, it is supremely disturbing that women are tearing through these books, thrilled and seeking a man who is basically an abuser and woman-hater. Not only that, the heroine, if that is what she is, is such a basic bitch, you actually wonder how she exists in the world.
I found myself rooting for Christian Grey, not because I like tall, copper-haired billionaires who stalk women, but because I hoped he would help his love Ana Steele, find some sense. She is a woman who at 22, IN MODERN DAY SEATTLE, doesn’t know how to use a BlackBerry or laptop, has never drank coffee, had sex or apparently done ANYTHING in her life but read dead, British authors.
The plot devices and twists are absurd. Christian Grey’s prior submissive is characterized as suicidal, homicidal, and depressed because she loved Christian and he didn’t love her back. OKAY.
Ana’s boss, who later turns into the most important antagonist/villain in the story, is a sexual predator who harasses all of his assistants and forces them into sexual relationships. OKAY.
Ana Steele is a virgin who, upon having sex with Christian Grey for the first time, has a ‘shattering’ vaginal orgasm and continues to have nothing but orgasms with the man, no matter what he does to her. OKAY.
Christian Grey’s prior dominant and first lover beat him and never touched him, which gave him strength to quit abusing alcohol and drugs and become the richest man in the world and do all the business things because all he needed was focus. OKAY THEN.
All of this is fucking stupid, sure, but the really, REALLY awful thing is that women are reading this and getting turned on. Are women these days so lacking in their hetero relationships that their husbands/partners/boyfriends/part-time boos are so bad at the sex that THIS is exciting for them? I guess the answer is yes and it REALLY bums me the fuck out.
I can get they secretly wish their first time was perfect and magical, instead of with Joe, the high school soccer team midfielder who poked it in for 30 seconds, came and left her wondering why anyone had sex, ever, sure, but at 40? They’re still hoping sex is as mind-blowing and sexy and whatever it is Ana and Christian are doing? You mean you haven’t told the menz to fuck you right? YET?
What in the ever-loving fresh hell? I guess I can buy that it’s all still really awful out there, but it honestly depresses me that THIS is what women are fantasizing and wishing for instead.
Never mind that entire time I read this mess, I, LITERALLY, kept thinking ‘LOLWHITEPEOPLE!’
I mean, the whiteness pervades this book so much, I was practically reading the book in a Reese Witherspoon voice, while drinking a skinny margarita.
This isn’t really a review of the trilogy. It isn’t even a rebuke, I guess. It’s more of a ‘how is the world still this fucking terrible?’ statement, I guess.
50 Shades of Bullshit, subtitled, Everyone is horrible and everything hurts. Also, white people. THE END.
“I mean, the whiteness pervades this book so much, I was practically reading the book in a Reese Witherspoon voice, while drinking a skinny margarita.”
So THAT’S why I thought it was the most pedestrian, un-erotic, childish piece of writing, ever. Because I am not white. Or 40. Or an idiot. Spot on.
That sadness you feel when you realise that the last time you did something was really the last time. And how you wish someone could have told you it was the last time, so you could pay extra attention. So you could really memorise it, because the memories were going to have to last forever.
I thought I understood it, that I could grasp it, but I didn’t, not really. Only the smudgeness of it; the pink-slippered, all-containered, semi-precious eagerness of it. I didn’t realize it would sometimes be more than whole, that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea. Because it’s the halves that halve you in half. I didn’t know, don’t know, about the in-between bits; the gory bits of you, and the gory bits of me.
Unless we are in a situation where you are no where near me for a long period of time and we live on two end of the earth then I kind of don’t take “I miss you” seriously. That makes me sound like an asshole but peep game, if you missed me that much then why not approach me with something along the lines of “I would like to see you this weekend” hmm?
Sure sometimes people are busy, I can understand that and I can definitely understand when people don’t have money but what i’m saying is that sometimes “I miss you” can mean “hey, i’d like to hang out with you but i’d rather sit at home on my day off then make an effort to put on pants to see you”. Look, hanging out with me doesn’t even require spending money, if you truly wanted to be in my presence then we could do nothing for all I care. Then there are those days when you are “so bored” and want to do something with someone but it seems that you don’t miss me then either. When I actually miss people I ask them what days they are free and try to set something up and if they can’t chill then I let it go. I feel like that’s the best way to let someone know that you were truly thinking about them, by making the gesture to be with them.
I’m not saying that when people say “I miss you” that it isn’t genuine, i’d just rather hear anything but that sometimes because it really does come off as disingenuous even when you do mean it. Simple alternatives are “wow, I haven’t seen you in a while” or “It’s been so long”. Alls I’m saying is that when I hear “I miss you” I expect it to be followed by you trying to make plans with me, does that only make sense to me?
To me,”I miss you” is the blue balls of friendship. Don’t start something you can’t finish.
Open up next to you and my secrets become your truth And the distance between that was sheltering me comes in full view Hang my head, break my heart - built from all I have torn apart And my burden to bear is a love I can’t carry anymore.
All I have, all I need, he’s the air I would kill to breathe Holds my love in his hands, still I’m searching for something Out of breath, I am left hoping someday … I’ll breathe again.