So the 11th thing that I did on my summer vacation was read all three 50 Shades of Grey books. (Thank god for e-readers, so no one knew what I was reading and why I was blushing.)
I really think that 50 Shades of Grey should be marketed as Viagra for women…specifically married women and even more specifically married mommies?
I mean seriously. What could be hotter than explicitly hot sex, and love (sigh) with a hot but emotionally unavailable billionaire (and is there any word hotter in the English language than billionaire? Maybe the phrase ” lonely billionaire on his deathbed.”) Women go nuts over guys they can’t have, and the idea that you could be the one who wins him over and changes him… swoon. This is similar to the male phenomenon known as “the stripper really likes me” syndrome.
All in all… sexy reading but not that well written, and by the second book I was already bored with the riding crops and floggers. I never thought I would use that phrase for many reasons, but it’s true. There was so much of it in the first book that I was seriously desensitized to it by then. How many different ways could a girl be trussed up, blindfolded, and spanked in a blow-by-blow (he-he. sorry.) account? I do have to give major street cred to E. L. James and all the married mommies who have made this book a faster selling paperback than Harry Potter (Quidditch aint got nuthin’ on BDSM). Way to take your libido into your own…um…hands ladies. And husbands around the world… you all owe Mrs. James some flowers or at least a hearty high-five.