Posted on | June 14, 2012 | 9 Comments
Last week, Taylor met me at a wedding in Brunswick with a smile on his face and a surprise Kindle in hand. After I squealed and stared at if for a few minutes, I mentioned that I hadn’t really read any books in awhile (you know, babies and all), and that I wasn’t sure what I should download first.
While casually unpacking his clothes he asked, “Oh, hmm..I heard about those “50 Shades” books being pretty good. What about one of those?”
Insert side-eye here.
First of all, I’m not sure where he heard about the books unless all of the men in his life are whispering about it to each other and suggesting that it’s a good thing for everyone’s sex life. Second, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to “go there.” Smutty “mommy porn” books that would make me blush and wake my husband up at 1:00AM for a raucous round of sex?
Wait. Never mind. Bring. it. on.
I tore through the first book. It made me blush and think, “Oh my gosh, do people actually do these things?!” But it also got on my last freaking nerves. The main characters, Christian and Ana, are beyond annoying. There is a whole lot of, “inner goddess” talk. Who actually refers to an inner goddess? Especially over and over again? It’s also ridiculously repetitive.
Ana thought, “Oh.”
Christian pressed his lips into a hard line.
Ana blushed crimson.
He told her to give him her orgasm and she did (well, we all know this ain’t really happening).
Oh no, Christian’s angry again.
“You bought me a car?! How could you?!” (again, seriously?)
Ana said, “I just don’t know if I’m enough for you….” Christian is angry and replies, “What do I have to do to show you?!”
Lots of smirking and eye-rolling. Frowns and sighs.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
BUT, the concept is so addictive and foreign that I read the book in less than a day. The second book followed soon after, and I’m now almost halfway through the third. The writing is atrocious. But y’all, they talk about butt plugs. I don’t even know what that is or what the purpose of it would be, but it sounds so horribly wrong and like something I never, ever care to try, so how could I not read about it? A Red Room of Pain makes it’s appearance here and there with mentions of satin sheets and sex on some stretcher thing, and it’s terrifying and hilarious and interesting all at once.
Bottom line? It may make you want to have more sex with your husband. It may also make you want to gag what with all the cheesy lines and over-sexing and anal beads. But, if you’re looking for a guilty pleasure book to read on the beach or perhaps alone in your room while you lock the children out for an hour or so, I can’t help but recommend it.
Enjoy. Your husband may want to thank me.