The Fifty Shades Movement has slowed down quite a bit since last year when it was all the rave. Everyone I know was fifty shades of horny as they were reading these books, Facebook fan pages were started, every woman I saw on the beach was turning the pages at record speed, oblivious to their children doing shots of sand in front of them. I read all three in a week last May (hey, don’t judge…I was confined to the couch as I was recovering from knee surgery. What better to do than read some pop culture porn?) Soon after, all these ladiezz be like, “I want my own Christian Grey!” “Come tie me up, Christian Grey!” “I’ll be your submissive, Mr. Grey!”
A penny for my thoughts? Why sure:
1. Why? Why would you want your husband/fiance/boyfriend/whoever calling you Mrs. (insert last name here) in bed? Moreover, why would you want to refer to your husband/fiance/boyfriend/whatever as Mr. (insert last name here) in bed? There is no reason AT ALL that I want to refer to my hubs as Mr Last Name. Because you know who Mr Last Name was for six years until we got married and he turned into my father-in-law? That’s right, my F-I-L. NO REASON TO GET GET THAT WEIRD IN THE BEDROOM. And if my husband referred to me as Mrs Last Name in an effort to get me all riled up? (Or ‘tussed up’ as Christian Grey said so many times). I’d have a pair of baggy sweats and an oversized t-shirt on in a second. I am Mrs Last Name at work…during the day…with freshmen. I am NOT Mrs Last Name to my husband.
Am I the only person who found that odd while reading? If not odd, then extremely annoying?
2. The overuse of the word lovely. How many times did Christian call Ana lovely? Oh about 2,600. Flowers are lovely. Doilies are lovely. Potted plants are lovely. Wealthy elderly ladies who have hired help use the word lovely. Not hot men who are half naked. Unless said hot man who is half naked is looking at a potted plant and he’s gay. Then I guess it’s OK.
3. The Mr and I have three kids. We work full time. We do boring stuff like figure out car repairs and pay the mortgage. There is no Red Playroom involved in our lives. And if there was, after working all day and doing boring adult stuff and getting the kids to bed, if the Mr said, “Hey Mrs, let’s go into the playroom for a bit so I can tie you up and hit you with canes” I’d probably put my hands on my hips and look all exasperated and say, “Am I the only one who sees the dishes in the sink? Seriously? Oh so I guess the laundry will just fold itself then, huh? Maybe if I wasn’t the only one who ever cleaned up around here then sure, I’d let you go beat me with canes after a long day. Why that sounds just f’ing awesome!” And then I’d stomp away and put the dishes in the dishwasher while mumbling about how I want to go get a cane and beat him with it, the messy bastard.
So where I’m going with this one is why? Why ladies do you want a Christian Grey? Don’t you just want someone to help you clean up after a long day?
4. Eat. All Christian ever said to Ana was ‘eat.’ He was obsessed with her food intake. I’m not going to lie here: if my husband demanded that I eat more I’d have to assume that he had a fetish for big women. Because that’s exactly what I’d be, a really really big woman. I have no problem eating. Why, Ana, do you look at your food and not want it? What’s wrong with you, woman??
5. Socks. Just pick your socks up off of the floor, husband, and I will do anything for you. But it’s been fifteen years of socks next to the hamper so I don’t think I’ll have to summon my inner Ana anytime soon.
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