On Saturday I was looking over our stats for the week and thinking, ‘yup, business as usu – wait what?’ when I noticed that we were getting an enormous amount of traffic for a Saturday. I don’t know what it is about Saturdays, maybe everyone is too hungover to deal with these books or maybe everyone is out on romantic dates with rich, overbearing billionaires, who knows, but unlike Sundays, the blog is just not happenin’ on a Saturday. Turns out Cracked linked to us in their article 6 Horrifying True Stories To Read Before Using Sex Toys. Of course that’s the article we are mentioned in. If there’s a weird sex toy story that was inevitably inspired by Fifty Shades, there’s a 99.9% chance we’ve covered it in one of our posts.
What a great weekend it’s been! So it’s time to make myself miserable and read Grey!
Grey: Sunday, June 5, 2011
In the immediate aftermath of his breakup with Ana, Christian mourns the loss of a woman who entered his life less than a month ago:
I gaze up at the bedroom ceiling. Sleep eludes me. I’m tormented by Ana’s fragrance, which still clings to my bedsheets.
James missed a golden opportunity to remind us of all the beautiful, sometimes impossible things Ana smells like. Apples! Bananas! Hope! The cure to cancer! Memories! Smoked Meat!
I pull her pillow over my face to breathe in her scent. It’s torture, it’s heaven, and for a moment I contemplate death by suffocation.
Get a grip, Grey.
Sometimes when I’m making fun of these books, I realize I’m being hugely hypocritical, so I have a confession to make. Even though I had known my now-husband for awhile before we started dating, we only dated for like 3 weeks before I was going to back to America and leaving him behind in England. I was a wreck when I got home, and I was constantly smelling the two shirts he’d given me (in case you were wondering, he smelled like honey and tears and love and manly rainbows).
If you wind up marrying the object of your affections in these situations, you have the luxury of looking back and saying obnoxious things with tears welling your eyes like, “I JUST KNEW. Our souls were just two lonely manatees floating at sea until the ocean brought them together because DESTINY.” But if you don’t end up together, you have to be like, “LOL whoops! I greatly misjudged that situation.”
Despite the fact that Christian does wind up with SPOILER ALERT ********* Ana *********** END SPOILER, I still think he’s a moron, and that is my right as an American citizen.
Christian wonders how things could have gone differently, and then comes to the conclusion that breaking up with Ana was inevitable because they would have always “reached this impasse”. I understand his point, but I disagree. He knew Ana was new to the concept of a safeword, he knew that she struggled to express her true feelings to him when it wasn’t via email, so he could have stopped spanking her as hard as possible when he felt the slightest bit of doubt about the situation. Maybe, though, they always would have reached a point where she was freaked out by the fact that he had this desire to beat her “consensually,” which is absolutely valid. I just can’t believe Christian can’t see how that particular incident might have played out differently.
Christian has yet another chronological nightmare. I feel so sorry for him, I do, but these nightmares are so poorly written (hush, I know the whole book is horribly written, but this is different. This is making me behave callously during a scene where a child is suffering.) In this nightmare, the man from Christian’s other nightmares returns to beat and yell at his mother, and he then goes after Christian. The phrase “You are one fucked up bitch,” which the man shouts at Christian’s mother, is repeated six times, and in case it’s not clear why, it ties seamlessly into the present:
You are one fucked-up son of a bitch.
Ana’s words ring in my head.
Like his.
Fuck.
I couldn’t help the crack whore.
I tried. Good God, I tried.
There you are, you little shit.
But I could help Ana.
I think “help” is a word that exists in the English language. Does it belong here? Probably not.
The parallels to Christian’s past are not as strong here as EL James wishes they were. Christian saved Ana from future beatings by spanking her so hard she fled of her own accord? So helpful. It’s basically redemption for his inability to save his mother from an evil man when he was a toddler.
In case you were wondering how Christian’s inner cock was dealing with this crippling loss, I present you with this moment:
I wake again with a jolt and it’s light—early-morning sunshine fills the room. I was dreaming of Ana: Ana kissing me, her tongue in my mouth, my fingers in her hair; pressing her delectable body against me, her hands tethered above her head.
Where is she?
For one sweet moment I forget all that transpired yesterday—then it floods back.
She’s gone.
Fuck.
The evidence of my desire presses into the mattress—but the memory of her bright eyes, clouded with hurt and humiliation as she left, soon solves that problem.
I just imagine this sad penis deflating in sorrow.
There wasn’t enough stalking this chapter for my taste, so I’m really happy when Christian runs around outside Ana’s apartment, hoping to catch a glimpse of her while letting his imagination run wild that she got drunk last night and slept with someone else. It’s a relief that this breakup hasn’t changed who Christian is in any deep, meaningful way.
He jogs away, trying to convince himself Ana’s not the one for him, and then immediately in the next scene this happens:
I stand up and stretch. I’ve been at my desk in my study all day, and it’s been productive. Ros has worked hard, too. She’s prepared and sent me a first draft business plan and letter of intent for SIP.
At least I’ll be able to keep an eye on Ana.
The creepy guardian angel everyone dreams of having. The one who makes you wonder why all of the men you start dating always seem to disappear under mysterious circumstances.
Christian admits to us that he misses Ana (I was not expecting that!) And even Mrs. Jones feels sorry for him when he says she only needs to cook for one tonight. NOTHING IS SADDER THAN COOKING FOR ONE #SingleLife
On a completely random note, has anyone tried those limited edition brownie batter Oreos? They’re amazing! Whoever spends their life dedicated to crafting new flavours of Oreos has my undying love.