Wednesday, May 16, 2012
It wasn't just the sex. It couldn't be. Or could it? I mean, the sex was good. Very good. I even caught sight of myself in the mirror a few times, blushed (flushed?) when no one was around. I giggled like a school girl every time my husband asked "How's your book?". But it wasn't just the sex that kept me reading. I kept asking myself why I couldn't put it down. This was totally not my type of read... Or was it? I like psychological books. You know: what makes a sociopath tick. Books that explain why people do what they do; why we turn out the way we do. Those kinds of reads. Oh, wait a minute... I get it now. This is totally THAT kind of book. (I'm slightly relieved to realize that it's not just about the sex. The hot, passionate, deviant sex. I was starting to feel like a dirty,dirty girl. But I digress...)
Christian Grey is hot, demanding. And broken. (And yes, I know: fictional). Yet, I still want to "fix" him. Cradle him. Touch him. Typical woman: "Here, let me find out what makes you tick... " and mend it. Change it. Quite possibly, ruin it. I went from one chapter to the next to the next wanting to find out WHY? Sure, the sex was great. Mind-blowing. But WHY was he this way? Mommy issues? Did he hate women? Even Anastasia couldn't help herself. She wanted to break him... which we all know would lead to a lot of nose blowing and tear drying. The next thing you know, they'd be getting married and making babies... and who the hell wants to read about that?? And let's face it, if she had succeeded, there would be no book two. Or three. (Which is what I'm off to buy next: Even I need my fix.)
I hear there is talk of a movie. I'm not looking forward to it. I don't want anyone type-casting Mr. Grey. (And realistically speaking, who, on this earth, could do him justice? I mean, really??)
We all have a Mr. Grey hiding somewhere. Someone broken. Mysterious. Deviant. Tangible. And NOT in need of repair.