People who know me know that I have a peculiar personality trait. I cannot lose to an inanimate object. If you beat me, that’s fine. I can accept that there are people who are smarter/faster/stronger/prettier than me. However, inanimate objects exist solely to be bent to my will. A thing is not better than me, it is a thing..
This attitude, much to the chagrin of my wife and my boss, has often resulted in minor injuries as I refused to let a ramp tell me what to do. Being self aware enough to realize this about myself has resulted in minor annoyance by my friends as I refused to do something because I didn’t feel like being hurt that day.
All of this is to say, 50 Shades of Grey, you win, I quit.
I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up. I keep telling myself that I’m taking this one for the team, that I’m serving the greater good of making a friend laugh while I suffer through this. I’ve made it up to chapter 10 now. Shit just got real*.
I have a friend who was recently dragged to see The Adventures of Tintin with her husband and eight year old son. She spent the rest of the afternoon complaining about it to me. “It was boring, there was no romance.” I countered that it wasn’t a romance movie, it was a kid’s action movie. “It doesn’t matter,” she replied, “movies without romance are boring.” I tried to explain to her that it was an action movie aimed at 10 year old boys and that a 10 year old boy’s idea of romance is feeling guilty after punching a girl in the head. She would have none of it, all movies need romance she said. This went on and on and on to the point where I prayed that she was just kidding with me, otherwise my friend was stupid. I mean, it’s not like I demand more onscreen decapitations in episodes of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman (that would have made me actually watch that show, though). Some things are just are just not for you.
50 Shades of Grey is obviously not for me. So, who the hell is it for?
It’s day two of me reading Twilight fan fiction cum erotic romance best seller, 50 Shades of Grey. It is clear to me now that I hate myself. It’s the only reason I can explain doing this. Oh and a friend of mine asked me to and since she’s going through a rough patch and my pain appears to make her laugh I’m toughing it out. Because I’m a fragging mensch, I am.
I’ve read chapters four and five without putting a gun to my head. Ready. Set. Go!
So, let me start by saying that I avoided Twilight like the plague. On the surface Twilight is a story about a centenarian’s courtship of a mentally disturbed minor, Pedo Bear may approve, but I’m not so fond of it. Beneath the surface Twilight is a primer on how to be in an abusive relationship. What I’m saying is, I’m morally opposed to Twilight.
So why do I find myself reading a book that started as Twilight fan-fiction? Because a friend of mine is over the moon for it and another friend of mine is completely, totally, incredibly in hate for it. That’s the friend who gave me a copy to read. (spoilers) I’m now convinced that she’s not so much my friend, but my arch enemy.
My plan is to read as much of 50 Shades of Gray as I can stomach every night and then comment on it the next day.