Grey, Chapter 7: Sunday, May 22nd, 2011, PART 2

–E.L. James’ Twitter Q&A Gone Wrong: Fans Slam Author With Hilarious Tweets
-‘Fifty Shades’ author E.L. James’ Twitter Q&A didn’t go exactly according to plan
-50 Shades of Grey author EL James’s #AskELJames Twitter chat is a fiasco
–E.L. James event backfires when critics of ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ air grievances using #AskELJames
–50 Shades of Grey author’s Twitter Q&A goes horribly wrong as readers question her on rape and abuse
–‘Fifty Shades’ author E.L. James’ Twitter Q&A didn’t go exactly according to plan
–EL James Did a Twitter Q&A and It Was a Giant Disaster

Just a really quick word about that Twitter explodey-fest.  If E.L. James wasn’t seriously promoting an abuser as he ideal man to the point of putting this book in sex kits, and if she wasn’t so rude and mean and condescending to everyone from mild critics to abuse-survivors to her own early fans, I wouldn’t have been okay what happened in the #AskELJames hash convo today.  But since survivors and concerned people around the world have gotten nowhere by trying to talk civilly, unless you count getting sent to the Banhammered Club, there have been few options left.  This was a time when she wouldn’t ignore the concerned voices since they were too numerous, and about a very important topic that needs to be heard.

Read the rest of this post, and ask yourself at the end just how the ever-loving hell James can possibly stand behind this creep as a romantic man, and no care that she supports young women and teens hearing over and over again how Grey is the ideal man.

(Directory of recap links)

Jumping right in today:

“Hey.” My voice is gentle and encourages her to peek up at me. “Anastasia, you’re a very beautiful woman, the whole package. Don’t hang your head like you’re ashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and it’s a real joy to stand here and look at you.” Holding her chin, I tip her head back.

From any other character, I’d think this was sweet.  From a man who calls what’s happened with here “merely a means to an end,” no.  So I’m going to call this manipulation.

He washes her body with the goal of getting her aroused, but not letting her orgasm.  Then he tells her:

“I want you to become well acquainted, on first-name terms, if you will, with my favorite and most cherished part of my body. I’m very attached to this.”

To my disappointment, we aren’t told its name.  Since he doesn’t tell us, I think we should give it a name.  What do you think?

Herpes (link is safe for work, and funny):

Or Syphilis:

I like Herpes because it makes fun of their burning crotches.  But Syphilis is otherwise called Pox, and I can joke about a pox on the house of Grey.  Whatever we name his penis shall be how I’ll refer to it from now on.  Comment with your choice.

Ana gives him the most boring blow job in the history of erotica, or what’s meant to pass, in this case, yet, despite never having seen a penis before, she’s such a professional that Grey thought his couldn’t really be her first time.  Yet just the page before he was turned on by her inexperience with blow jobs.  Yeah, yeah, she’s supposed to be a natural at it, we get it….  She’s also got no gag reflex.  So a sexual savant in all ways, perfectly built for his pleasure.

Back in his room, and he tugs on her hair, which is in braided pigtails.

“Gently I tug both her braids. “You look so young with these.” But they’re not going to stop me.

So pedophilic.  Ana constantly sees him as a child, and calls him her “lost boy,” so maybe they’re just both mentally kids into kids.  I don’t want to think about that, considering what gets them off when Ana’s pregnant the second time.  Hint: They think their unborn baby likes sex already, and that gets them turned on.  It’s gross.

He gives her oral sex, and she orgasms pretty quickly, and then he plunges himself into her (yes, with a condom, but only because she’s not on the pill, not out of worry he’ll get an STD since he’s probably already crawling with them all), and she orgasms again, but on command.

Before they can do anything else, Grey hears Taylor and his mother outside.  Haha!  I’m sorry, that amuses me.  Want some TMI?  That happened to me once, only the guy’s mother walked into his room, had a conversation with us, and left, as if nothing was going on.  You try holding a natural-ish conversation while clutching a sheet to your chest.

I’m not going to feel bad for Grey.  He could have Ana wait in his room while he tells his mom he had a late night.  Instead he wants Ana to meet his mom.  Ana’s mortified, but all Grey can think is,

My mother is going to be thrilled.

Translation: “Lookie, Mommy!  I’m having sex!  With a GIRL!  I’m a big boy!”

Ana not wanting to doesn’t matter since she doesn’t matter.  She exists now to validate Grey and that his penis works and can get an erection.  Quite the feat, considering it happens to corpses too.

I slip on a white T-shirt, and when I turn around she’s sitting up, hugging her knees. “Perhaps I should stay here.”

“Oh no you don’t,” I warn. “You can wear something of mine.”

I like her wearing my clothes.

Her face falls.

“Anastasia, you could be wearing a sack and you’d look lovely. Please don’t worry. I’d like you to meet my mother. Get dressed. I’ll just go and calm her down. I’ll expect you in that room in five minutes, otherwise I’ll come and drag you out of here myself in whatever you’re wearing. My T-shirts are in this drawer. My shirts are in the closet. Help yourself.”

Her eyes widen.

Yes. I’m serious, baby.

Cautioning her with a pointed look, I open the door and exit to find my mother.

First, and minorly, do you see what James did in that first shouldn’t-have-be-a-paragraph?  Grey’s actions, Ana’s words.  James does that a lot.  When something should be separated into a new paragraph, she doesn’t do it.  When sentences should be combined, she doesn’t do it.  Her editors have been instructed, at least in the past, to not actually edit since it makes her feel bad.

He leave Ana to do as ordered, and meets his rather childish mother.

“I was shopping downtown and I thought I might pop in for coffee.” She stops. “If I’d known you weren’t alone…” She shrugs in an awkward, girlish way.

She has often stopped by for coffee and there was a woman here…she just never knew.

“She’ll join us in a moment,” I admit, putting her out of her misery. “Do you want to sit down?” I wave in the direction of the sofa.

“She?”

“Yes, Mother. She.” My tone is dry as I try not to laugh. And for once she’s silent as she wanders through the living room.

If I were to make a drinking game out of how many times characters in this book may gay jokes or references, I’d die, and I’d rather drink myself to death for a worthy cause, like funding some courses on how to not be a hypocrite like Bristol Palin.

Right after his mother and Ana meet, her phone rings, and she answers.  It’s Jose, and rather than focus on his mother while she’s talking, Grey obsesses over Jose and what he wants.

Conversation wraps up, and Grace is out the door with a “grateful” smile to Ana.

My mother’s always thought I was gay.

And that’s why this can’t be a drinking game.

Taylor mentions a problem with the Darfur shipment, and there’s another failed attempt at making Grey look good.  Since a mysterious “they” can’t guarantee crew or shipment safety, the US State Department won’t….  Forget it.  Grey doesn’t care, and Ros is the one working on it anyway.  That’s all you need to know.  She just checks in with him from time to time, and she deals with it, while he gets all the credit for her work.  The most Grey does is threaten to call the politician in his pocket to make some orders.  Of course he’s not going to follow through.

He shoves the contract paperwork at Ana, and tells her to research it on the internet, and they’ll discuss is the next weekend.  Too bad she doesn’t have a computer.  As in, she doesn’t own one at all.  In the movie, this was changed to her computer was broken, but in canon, she just plain doesn’t have one.

No computer? How can a student not have a computer?

One of those rare moment where I agree with Grey since he’s right.

“I’ll just make a call,” she says, her voice soft and hesitant.

“The photographer?” I snap. She looks guilty.

What the hell? “I don’t like to share, Miss Steele. Remember that.” I storm out of the room before I say anything else.”

You know how people usually put their best foot forward when they’re just meeting someone they hope to take to the next level somehow?  If this is Grey’s best foot, I don’t want to see his other.  He’s also pissed since he thinks maybe she’s just after his money even though he’s the one trying to use it to impress her.

He retreats into his bedroom so she can make her call, and he packs a bag since there’s no way in hell he’s going to stay anywhere but Portland until she’s heading back to Seattle with him.  Well that’s not stalkerish of him, or anything, right?  He makes sure to pack condoms because he’s not waiting until the weekend.  Between him saying they’ll discuss is the next weekend, and packing condoms for during the week, it’s clear he’s going to have sex with her, whether or not she wants it.

Among other things, Grey tells Taylor to call Audi because he may need the new A3 sooner than he thought.  Uh…hm.  You know, he bought that car for Ana.  He doesn’t get to think she’s after his money when he’s shoving it at her.

He also calls Bodyguard Barney since he’ll surely have a ew laptop laying around, and guess what.  He does.  Two brand new Apples.  And they can’t exist.  Know why?  Because it’s 2011, and the Macbook Pro he is going to give her has 1.05TB hard drive and 32GB of RAM.

That computer STILL doesn’t exist, and it’s 2015.  Here is the MacBook Pro with EVERY upgrade, as of this minute:

You might notice that, while it does have a terrabyte of storage, it’s got 16GB for RAM.  If this machine could go to 32GB, I would know because I would have it.  (I got really lucky in December, and my husband surprised the hell out of me with the above computer, intentionally with the specs maxed.)  And you know what?  There isn’t space in these cases to add the extra RAM.

James doesn’t know technology.  She doesn’t know a lot of things, like the meaning of consent.  But who am I to split hairs?

Grey also has Barney set up an email account.  Ana doesn’t have one of those either, even though WSU requires one.  In fact, they require you to have two of them, and if you do not have them, they will set them up for you.  And you much use them.  One of them is the main method of contact between students and professors.  There’s literally no way Ana got through school without at least one, considering the school’s requirements.

And Barney’s to arrange delivery to Ana’s home.

Again, Grey doesn’t get to suspect her of being a gold-digger when he’s giving her pricy stuff she’s not asking for.

So out they head, and he tells her to stop biting her lip before he fucks her in the elevator, no matter who sees.  Nope, he didn’t say he’d want to.  He said:

“Stop biting your lip, or I will fuck you in the elevator, and I don’t care who gets in with us,” I growl.

So threaten her with sex even if she doesn’t want it.  FOllowing through it called…

You guessed it.  Rape!

“Christian, I have a problem,” she says.

“Oh?”

In the elevator I press the button for the garage.

“W-Well,” she stutters, uncertain. Then she squares her shoulders. “I need to talk to Kate. I’ve so many questions about sex, and you’re too involved. If you want me to do all these things, how do I know—?” She stops, as if weighing her words. “I just don’t have any terms of reference.”

Not this again. We’ve been over this. I don’t want her talking to anyone. She’s signed an NDA.

Isn’t it getting even clearer how much he wants to control her?  At least he does tell her okay, as long as no one else knows.  And…

Her roommate would have my balls if she knew my real intentions.

If this guy was after my daughter, he’d wish I would only rip his balls off.

Once they’re in they car, he heads to Portland to take her home.  See that little town name just north of Portland?

Geography.  It’s hard.  Just head to Vancouver.

So far, this weekend has been unexpected. But what did I expect? I thought we’d have dinner, discuss the contract, and then what…? Perhaps fucking her was inevitable.

Yeah, since NO really wasn’t going to be an answer.

I hope I can see her before next weekend.

Even when she tells you it’s over tomorrow night, you’re going to have sex with her anyway.  Begins with an R.  Ends with Ape.

Since he’s pissed the property he pissed on still has no appetite, we’re going to have a moment out of Twilight.  Chedward takes Anabella to a little restaurant where she’ll want a Die Coke.  Only Bella, unlike Ana, got what she wanted.  Grey orders wine for them both, and Ana openly doesn’t want it.  Tough, Chica.  What Grey wants, Grey gets.

While waiting for food…

“She’s always thought I was gay.”

Regarding his mother.  This book is one of the most anti-gay books I’ve seen in a while.

He tries to make it sound like it was a weekend of firsts too, like he’s also a virgin.  Liar.  I don’t believe for a second he’s never had sex without toys.

“What’s vanilla sex?” she asks.

I laugh at her unexpected question and complete change of topic.

“Just straightforward sex, Anastasia. No toys, no add-ons.” I shrug. “You know—well, actually you don’t, but that’s what it means.”

How do you get to be 21 in the US, and not know what vanilla sex is?  How can she consent when she doesn’t know what this stuff is?  By virtue of watching National Geographic programs on animals, I think my five-year-old knows more about sex than Ana.  Animal sex is still sex, and what cheetahs do would probably give Ana a heart attack.

He reveals to Ana that one of this mother’s friends seduced him when he was fifteen, and it went on for six years.  He doesn’t see any issue with this.  In fact, Ana actually having a problem with it was a source of fights between those two.

“Eat up, Anastasia.”

“I’m really not hungry, Christian,” she says.

I narrow my eyes. “Eat.” I keep my voice low, as I try to check my temper.

That, and Ana really doesn’t like to be bossed around.

“Is this what our, um…relationship will be like?” she asks. “You ordering me around?”

She scrutinizes the plate of food in front of her.

“Yes.”

And he knows, HE KNOWS, she wants more, and he knows she’s overwhelmed by everything.

“Do you want to come in?” she asks, after I’ve switched off the engine.

“No. I have work to do.” I know that if I accept her invitation I’ll be crossing a line I’m not prepared to cross. I’m not boyfriend material—and I don’t want to give her any false expectations of the kind of relationship she’ll have with me.

Playing games like this isn’t fun.  It hurts people.  It’s going to hurt and change Ana in bad ways.

After Ana goes into her apartment and Grey’s had some time to pretend to do work while drinking some more, James shows us how she likes to mess up research.

Picking up my latest read, I settle onto the sofa. It’s a book by two renowned economists who examine why the poor think and behave the way they do.

That book is called Poor Economics: A Radical Rethinking of the Way to Fight Global Poverty.

Look again.  The date of this chapter is May 22nd, 2011.  That book wasn’t published until the following year.

Time travel!

As he prepared to read, something happens.

An image of a young woman brushing out her long, dark hair comes to mind; her hair shines in the light from the cracked, yellowed window, and the air is filled with dancing dust motes. She’s singing softly, like a child.

I shudder.

Don’t go there, Grey.

These are the kind of memories that are soooooooooo traumatizing to him.  I’d give almost anything if all my memories of my mother we “bad” as his.

He shuts the memory off, and starts to read the book he can’t have yet.

Aaaaannnddddd….SCENE.

---

This was surprisingly hard.  Between the anti-gay stuff, another memory that’s supposed to make is feel bad for his childhood, and all the controlling of Ana, it’s really not surprising.

Anyway, remember to vote for your favorite STD name for Christian Grey’s penis!  Winning name will be revealed on Friday, and I’ll reward one random person with the honor of dishonoring the person of their choice, by first name, but dedicating Saturday’s recrap to them!

E.L.James on Domestic Abuse Survivors, Mara Wilson, and “hijacking” what’s not yours

I’ve very, very low on time right now, and so this will be a quickpost.  On Twitter, I was asked about E.L. James’s treatment of real-life abuse-survivors, and since Twitter limits is to 140 characters, I decided to answer as a blog post with links.

First, one where she puts down real-live survivors as doing a disservice to real-live survivors.  We (myself, and legions of others when referring to this) use the word “disservice” since it’s an actual quote:

“Nothing freaks me out more than people who say this is about domestic abuse,” she says. “Bringing up my book in this context trivialises the issues, doing women who actually go through it a huge disservice.”

I had links to her being meaner on Twitter, but since I joined the Banhammered Club, and can’t access those links, I stupidly deleted my links before thinking about making a second account to get screencaps.  If anyone has any caps and links, I’d appreciate it if you’d share them.

In reference to survivors asking her calm questions:

That got Kody send to the Banhammered Club.

Mara Wilson is known for keeping a calm hear where many of us who lose it.  This is how she disrespects people who dare to ask her legitimate questions in a calm manner:

She and the Twilight fandom that made her don’t get along, and it’s because of how she treated them.

GentleBlaze has done a wonderful write-up of problems with her.  It really drives home that her attitude is nothing new.

She’s also a hypocrite.  Despite riding the coattails of Twilight, she’s threatened to sue for using Fifty Shades as a party theme.

“You can’t just hijack something someone else owns.”

Hm.  On her own webpage, as of this moment:

If that’s not the equivalent of climbing up the ladder someone else built, then pulling up behind you and telling those behind you to build their own like you did…n’t, then I don’t know what is.

She’s not nice to survivors, snarks people who have legitimate questions, and is a hypocrite.  There are many, many more examples.  Unfortunately I need to head out the door again, and will be back on my phone at red lights or not otherwise driving.

Feel free to add more examples in the comments.

Grey, Chapter 7: Sunday, May 22nd, 2011, PART 1

E.L. James Confirms She’ll Write ‘Fifty Shades Darker’ From Christian’s Perspective

And I shall rip it apart as well.

(Directory of recap links)

Another long chapter.  At least this one is “only” 57 pages.  Ugh.  This one will be in two parts.

If there’s one thing James is good at, it’s failing.  Right off the bat we get Grey faking a guilt trip.

I wake with a start and a pervading sense of guilt, as if I’ve committed a terrible sin.

Is it because I’ve fucked Anastasia Steele? Virgin?

She’s snuggled up fast asleep beside me. I check the radio alarm: it’s after three in the morning. Ana sleeps the sound sleep of an innocent. Well, not so innocent now. My body stirs as I watch her.

I could wake her.

Fuck her again.

Either she’s trying to show he has a conscience that he ignores if he’s horny, or her hero gets off on doing bad things.  I think it’s the latter.

Fucking her was merely a means to an end and a pleasant diversion.

Yes. Very pleasant.

More like incredible.

It was just sex, for fuck’s sake.

Too bad it wasn’t “just” sex to Ana.  It was an emotional connection to her, and Grey even called her the “flowers and romance” sort.  He has no reason to think this was only a random fucking to her.  Yet this was, as he says right there, “merely a means to an end.”

The romance of the ages, Folks!

There might be a lot of face-palming in this chapter.  I don’t know yet.  I sort of hope so since I have a fun collection of these memes, and they’re a bit of entertainment to keep me from going nuclear on the writing world for embracing this drivel.

She will be a joy to train.

My cock twitches in agreement.

Shit.

Yes.  That is what this book is, and your decision that she WILL be a joy yo train, despite her agreeing to nothing.

Surprisingly, he picks up the condoms himself, though why he couldn’t have tossed them into a small trash can by his bed, I have no idea.  There are some pretty ones out there that are all sleek and steel, just his thing.  There’s even R2D2, which I now want.

Time for a sad panda piano solo!  He plays, my eyes lose focus in boredom at the description, Ana interrupts him, and he chastises her for being awake even though he was just playing a grand piano at 3am.  Ana calls his playing melancholy, and I’m sharing this next piece since I get the feeling it’ll come in handy later.

“May I speak freely? Sir.” Leila is kneeling beside me while I work.

“You may.”

“Sir, you are most melancholy today.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, Sir. Is there something that you would like me to do…?”

File that away for now.

He leads her back to bed, and James seems to not understand being a woman.

There’s blood on my sheets. Her blood. Evidence of her now-absent virginity. Her eyes dart from the stains to me and she looks away, embarrassed.

“Well, that’s going to give Mrs. Jones something to think about.”

She looks mortified.

It’s just your body, sweetheart. I grasp her chin and tip her head back so I can see her expression. I’m about to give her a short lecture on how not to be ashamed of her body…

You don’t have to be ashamed of your body to be embarrassed that someone you don’t really know had seen blood form your vagina on the sheets.  I’m married to someone I knew well even before we became a couple, someone I love and respect and who loves and respects me in return, someone who was a rock during our daughter’s homebirth, who has seen me vulnerable and strong and has never made me feel anything less than strong for it, and yet, when blood form me gets on the sheets, my thought is, “Oh, crap.”  It’s a body fluid, and few people want others to see that.  Why on earth would Ana feel anything other than mortification that her blood is going to stain his expensive sheets?

Naturally, Grey’s first thought is summed up as, “Yes!  Proof I nailed a virgin!  And at least the housekeeper will get to know!”  Someone so childish shouldn’t be having sex at all since it can lead to a pregnancy.  Spoiler alert: Ana will be married to this loser, AND pregnant, by the middle of August.  It’s the end of May now.  They’re going to be parents in about a year, to a little boy whose fingers will later be used to get Ana horny, because she ends up as messed up as Grey.  Let me know if you want to know what happens in that scene.  It’s from Fifty Shades Freed.

“Get into bed,” I order, rather more sharply than I’d intended, but I hope she doesn’t detect my fear. Her eyes widen with confusion and maybe hurt.

Jesus, Asshole, at least get something to put down so she doesn’t have to lay in blood.

She’s still standing, staring at me. “Bed,” I command more forcefully.

Shut up.  You’ve already emotionally hurt her.

He gets in with her and promises to sleep with her, though plans to get out of bed as soon as she falls asleep, because he’s a lying liar who lies.  Oh no!  He falls asleep too!  Time for another symbolic dream about his horrid first four years of life!

Mommy is happy today. She is singing.

Singing about what love has to do with it.

And cooking. And singing.

My tummy gurgles. She is cooking bacon and waffles.

They smell good. My tummy likes bacon and waffles.

They smell so good.

I swear James is allergic to paragraphs.

Also a happy parent making bacon and waffles sounds like a pretty good morning.  I’m still waiting to see a time when he’s hungry, aside from after she died.

The smell of bacon wakes him, and he finds Ana in the kitchen.

Unobserved, I take a seat at the kitchen counter and watch the show. She’s whisking eggs, making breakfast, her braids bouncing as she jiggles from foot to foot, and I realize she’s not wearing underwear.

Good girl.

She has to be one of the most uncoordinated females I’ve ever seen. It’s amusing, charming, and strangely arousing at the same time; I think of all the ways I can improve her coordination.

Since she’s wearing a shirt, which I’m presuming is closed in the front since he didn’t mention being her chest…  Never mind.  Magic.  That’s how he knows she’s not wearing undies.  But the bigger thing here is the appearance of Bella Swan and her disappearing clumsiness.  Do you have any idea how coordinated you have to be to whisk eggs while dancing around?  I’ve got good balance.  One of my hobbies is ballet.  I take classes at the school of a national ballet company.  I can’t whisk eggs while dancing.  At least without spilling them.  Aside from Ana falling over thin air into his office, we never again see her clumsy.

He teases her, despite knowing she has pretty fragile feelings.

With a pout she turns her back on me and continues to whisk the eggs with gusto. I wonder if she has any idea how disrespectful this is to someone like me.

Too bad she didn’t show him her back as she was heading out the door, never to return.  Well, tomorrow night, book-time, we’ll see how Grey takes it when he merely thinks she’s breaking it off.  Hint: Rape

I want to fuck her again, preferably after breakfast, but if she’s too sore that will be out of the question. Perhaps I could use her mouth this time.

Seriously, how are we supposed to believe he cares about her when, oh, if her vagina is sore, he’ll just shove his cock into her mouth?  To use James’s words.  She did miss the chance to make some sausage jokes by having Ana make bacon instead.

While looking for a picture of a lady more or less fellating a sausage to put here, I found this instead (and learned that there’s a fetish for giving blow jobs through a hole in a pizza and pizza box…not sexy), and it’s funny.  I now want to get a long sausage, and do this.

Grey tells her he’d like to start basic training using her mouth, and she’s so shocked she chokes on her tea.  I’m not sure Ana knows what a blow job is.  That shouldn’t have come as such a shock.

“Eat, Anastasia. You didn’t eat last night.”

“I’m really not hungry,” she says.

Well, this is frustrating. “I would really like you to finish your breakfast.” My voice is low.

“What is it with you and food?” she snaps.

Oh, baby, you really don’t want to know. “I told you, I have issues with wasted food. Eat.” I glare at her. Don’t push me on this, Ana. She gives me a mulish look and starts to eat.

Back off, Grey. Just shut up, and stop talking about your food issues.  You didn’t really go hungry as a kid.  The memories you’ve shown us in this book, and what you told Ana in the other books, all have either food or toys, unless it’s after Ella’s death.

Kate calls, and Grey doesn’t here the conversation.  When Ana comes back, we find out how little she knows.

“The NDA, does it cover everything?” she asks, halting me in my tracks as I shut the pantry cupboard.

“Why?” Where’s she going with this? What has she said to Kavanagh?

She takes a deep breath. “Well, I have a few questions, you know, about sex. And I’d like to ask Kate.”

“You can ask me.”

“Christian, with all due respect—” She stops.

She’s embarrassed?

“It’s just about mechanics. I won’t mention the Red Room of Pain,” she says in a rush.”

If he cared about her, and about her consent, he’d be okay, no, he’s be insistent, about her learning all she can.  Do we have that happening?  No.  He wants ALL she knows to be wha he tells her.  She doesn’t even know the mechanics of sex.  This isn’t a woman to go full-blown beatings on in less than two weeks.  This is railroading in action.

They make their way to his bathtub.

And I’m going to call this section a wrap.  There’s still far too much to go in this crapter.  Not a typo.  They’re all crapters.

Grey, Chapter 6: Sunday, May 21st, 2011, PART 4

Lines from ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ depict rape by legal definition, not romance

(Directory of recap links)

Tighten your seat belts because we’re at that point in this book.  Yes, the part where they have sex the first time with dubious consent, at best, non-consent, at worst.

Ana asks if he’s going to “make love” to her, and he says yes.  He needs to get that first time out of the way, to, in his words, “rectify the situation right now.”  Because her being a virgin is a major problem to fix… I don’t think “make love” means what Grey thinks.  “Make love” implies an emotional connection.  He just wants to use Ana.
But those are the words he says to get this tipsy, scared, overwhelmed young woman to walk with him into his bedroom. Like an idiot, rather than reaching right for condoms, he asks if she’s on the pill, and considers condoms to be a back-up for a no.  Well good god, Grey, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.

Deep down I know I should send her home. But the simple truth is, I don’t want her to go, and I want her.

Well, what do you know.  He has a flicker of a conscience.  We won’t see that often, I’m sure.

“Do you want the blinds drawn?” I ask. “I don’t mind,” she says. “I thought you didn’t let anyone sleep in your bed.” “Who says we’re going to sleep?” “Oh.” Her lips form a perfect small o. My cock hardens further. Yes, I’d like to fuck that mouth, that o. I stalk toward her like she’s my prey. Oh, baby, I want to bury myself in you. Her breathing is shallow and quick. Her cheeks are rosy…she’s wary, but excited. She’s at my mercy, and knowing that makes me feel powerful. She has no idea what I’m going to do to her.

That’s frightening, and ominous.  Not only are they still not on the same page, since she apparently thought “make love” meant going to sleep together, but he’s aroused by her outright fear.  Again, an adrenaline rush comes with fear, but can also cause excitement, like on a roller coaster.  Doesn’t mean she really knows what’s about to happen, considering she thought a playroom meant he wanted to play an XBox, and he said they’d make love, and she thought they were going to sleep and is surprised he means something else. He’s also turned on by how she’s captive.

Now, in the comments here, and in the comments on Jenny Trout’s first chapter recap, there had been some debate over Grey calling Ana by her full name, even though she doesn’t like it.  “But Ana’s too close to his birth mother’s name,” some people say, to excuse him blatantly ignoring Ana’s name preference in favor of what he wants to call her, even though he has no problem calling his first sex partner by her first name of Elena, which is closer to Ella. We find out later that, “I like to whip little brown-haired girls like you because you all look like the crack whore—my birth mother.”  Oedipus is in the building, folks.  If it’s true that Ana is too close to Ella (again, not as close as Elena), I guess that would explain why he calls her “Ana Steele” right now.

“Do you have any idea how much I want you, Ana Steele?”

I suppose that idea could further support how he likes the idea of sex with his mom.  I’m going to say it.  EWWWW, WTF?

He quickly undresses her by “slowly feeling off her blouse” (doing something quickly by being slow about it–that’s typical of James’s writing), and stands back to stare at her.

“Oh, Ana. You have the most beautiful skin, pale and flawless. I want to kiss every single inch of it.” There’s not a mark on her. The thought is unsettling. I want to see her marked…pink…with tiny, thin welts from a crop maybe.

Most people would see skin that’s not damaged on someone who didn’t consent to it to be a good thing, not unsettling.  Between consenting partners, whatever.  But Ana is still clueless.  She doesn’t know what she’s in for, and she doesn’t know what he’s capable of.  He knows she’s captive.  She knows she’s captive.  He created this power imbalance, and now he wants to hit her.  He won’t though.  Not yet.

They kiss, and he thinks her fumbling and mistakes in a kiss to be sexy.  Who believes he was really bothered she’s a virgin?  What an unreliable narrator.  You can’t be pissed someone’s a virgin while really being so turned on you and excited about can’t stand it and want her.

She tastes luscious. Wine, grapes, and innocence—a potent, heady mix of flavors.

See?  She’s had too much to drink if he can still taste it, even though it’s been a short time since she last drank. He starts trying to arouse her, but I can’t get past how he’s sniffing her crotch and licking her foot after she’s been at work all day.

“Show me how you pleasure yourself,” I ask, gazing intently down at her. She frowns. “Don’t be coy, Ana, show me.” Part of me wants to spank the shyness out of her. She shakes her head. “I don’t know what you mean.” Is she playing games? “How do you make yourself come? I want to see.” She remains mute. Clearly I’ve shocked her again. “I don’t,” she mutters finally, her voice breathless.

That’s how innocent she is, and he wants to whip her and is turned on by the thought. The most believable character trait in this scene, aside from him being evil, is his obsession with his chest not being touched.  But since that stems back to when his birth-mother’s pimp burned him with a cigarette a few times when he was a toddler, he really should be past this already.  He’s holding on to his past on purpose at this point. There are a few thoughts of “If you’ll let me” sprinkled in, but I’m not falling for this as a sign he’s a good guy.  Literally every single one can be removed and absolutely  not be missed, like:

“We’re going to have to work on keeping you still, baby.” If you’ll let me. I’ll teach her to just absorb the pleasure and not move, intensifying every touch, every kiss, every nip.

Take that out, and you’d never know something was there.  They were just tossed in in random locations instead of integrated into the story. With only about a minute of nipple play, Ana has her first orgasm.  And Grey gloats that he owns it.  If you want to GIVE someone an orgasm, you don’t get to own it.  He thrusts himself into her, and it only takes another minute or two and she’s orgasming again.  Pretty impressive for someone whose never so much as touched herself, and highly unlikely.

“You haven’t answered me,” I growl. I need to know if she found that enjoyable. All the evidence points to a “yes”—but I need to hear it from her. While I’m waiting for her reply I remove the condom. Lord, I hate these things. I discard it discreetly on the floor.

Nasty pig.  He’s going to leave that for the housekeeper to pick up.  They get ready to go at it again, and he grabs another condom.  Even though he’s an idiot for only using them if someone admits not being on birth control, at least they’re used at all.  In a matter of minutes, she’s close to the edge again, and he orders her to hold off.  She lost her virginity perhaps ten minutes ago, has already had two orgasms, and is able to control a third.

“Come for me, baby,” I growl. And on command she shudders around me as her orgasm rips through her and she screams my name into the mattress.

The chances?  Laughably infinitesimally small. And then they go to sleep. Seriously.  That’s the end of it.

This was duller than the first book, where Ana actually described her first orgasm, in full, as, “Oh my. That was extraordinary. Now I know what all the fuss is about.”  Literary masterpiece, I tell you.

Here’s a cookie for you for getting this far.  You deserve it.

And here’s a happy place to retreat to.  It’s at Silver Falls State Park, about an hour form here.  Take your cookie and imaging yourself sitting on one of the stone benches and listening to the water falling into the cool pool below.  Happy thoughts.  Think happy thoughts now.

-Photo by Josh Whalen

Happy thoughts now, since this book’s about to get a lot worse.

Grey, Chapter 6: Sunday, May 21st, 2011, PART 3

I’m going to start leading into each of these posts with links to other blogs, posts, or articles, that are relevant.

50 Shades of Grey: Not Safe, Sane, or Consensual

(Directory of recap links)

I can’t believe there’s still so much of this chapter let.  Right away we start with James showing how she doesn’t understand the legal system.  Grey gets back Jose’s unauthorized background check.  It shows a ticket for pot-possession.  When you get a ticket, you have the option to pay it and not go to court, or to go to court.  Believe me on this.  I have one in my possession (not for pot, which is now legal in this state).  Before legalization, pot was a citation and a court date.  Criminal court date.

And the little prick smokes weed? I hope he doesn’t smoke around Ana—and I hope she doesn’t smoke, period.

Who the hell cares.  Pot mellows a person out.  Grey could use a joint of two.  And he can shut up about Ana smoking.  Seriously.  She’s an adult, and she can choose for herself.  It’s not like crack or heroin are in this discussion.

I’m not sure where Grey is.  In the last section, he and Elliot were in the car heading out, and at the end of this chapter, Elliot knocks on the door, ready to go hiking, and Grey thinks,

Ah…the child has woken from his nap.

Condescension aside, this indicates Elliot was sleeping somewhere other than the car  Where are they?  Did they arrive somewhere, and Grey carried him inside?  I’m so confused.  I’m going to guess they went back to the hotel.

They go for a run, and the scene sounds like a forest.

THE SCENT OF PINE, fresh damp earth, and late spring is a balm to my senses. The smell reminds me of those heady days of my childhood, running through a forest with Elliot and my sister Mia under the watchful eyes of our adoptive parents. The quiet, the space, the freedom…the scrunch of dry pine needles underfoot.

This doesn’t describe the waterfront.  (James has grey call it “the Willamette,” but we locals don’t call it by name, again because there’s just the one river, and we all know which river is meant!  And we call it the waterfront.)

This is the river.  What do you not see?

That’s right, pine trees.  And anywhere quiet.  Don’t get me wrong.  There are beautiful areas, like this (which is near downtown):

But it’s nothing like the scene described.  And it’s nothing like what comes next.

Elliot chatters away, needing only the occasional grunt from me to keep talking. As we make our way along the pebbled shore of the Willamette my mind strays to Anastasia. For the first time in a long time, I have a sweet sense of anticipation. I’m excited.

Will she say yes to my proposal?

I picture her sleeping beside me, soft and small…and my cock twitches with expectation. I could have woken her and fucked her then—what a novelty that would have been.

I’ll fuck her in time.

I’ll fuck her bound and with her smart mouth gagged.

Yeah, forget the pebbles, and the lack of them.  What the hell?  Even with his brother talking, he gets horny, and that “I’ll fuck her in time” sounds a lot like he’s willing to rape, especially since he’s thinking about what a thrill it would have been to “fuck her away” in his room that morning…where she didn’t consent to go!!

My GOD.  This isn’t a romance.  It’s a prison diary, a look inside the mind of a rapist.

And a jump again.  I don’t know what the point was of that entire section of him and Elliot running.  Perhaps to show one of the times he thought about literal rape in the most literally literal sense?

He’s now outside of Ana’s work, drumming his fingers on his thigh, telling us how he’s not a patient man, and she’s five minutes late since the store closed five minutes earlier.  Correction, Grey: The store closed five minutes ago, and she’s doing closing stuff.  Someone has to do it.  They’re called employees.  Like Ana.

She gets in the car, and he’s exasperated that she’s wearing jeans again.  How dare she not wear a skirt to a hardware store to make sure he has access….  Even though he wants nothing more than a sexual fling with her, he grabs her hand and stroked it in a manner that is meant to woo her.  This is called being a tease, and it’s not cute.

I’m not going to bother going over a bunch of unnecessary details about the flight going north.  It’s James trying to show off her learnings.  I know jack about flying helicopters, so she may be blowing wind for all I know.  Yet there was no research into sunset around here, and when it gets dark.  By 8pm, it is NOT dark here.  In May, it’s light until past 9pm.  Here is a photo I took last month, on May 24th, at, according to my phone info, 8:44pm.

I wouldn’t have been so dark that you couldn’t see shortly after 8pm.

Nothing of importance happens for the next few pages, aside from drawn out descriptions of how he can’t take his eyes off of Ana even though he should be watching what he’s doing.  The reach Seattle, and Grey lands on a helipad.

Are you ready for another round of James Didn’t Do the Research?

Seattle has strict laws regarding who can land on helipads within city limits.

Under city law, helistops are permitted only for helicopters that “serve a public safety, news gathering or emergency medical care function,” and only under conditional use permits granted by the Seattle City Council.

The current Seattle helistops are for three news organizations relatively close to the Seattle Center, Harborview Medical Center and Seattle Children’s Hospital, said Diane Sugimura, director of the Seattle Department of Planning and Development.

There’s no chance, NONE, that Grey could legally land his helicopter in Seattle.  And no, it won’t cut it to say he passes bribes.  Bill Gates, one of the richest men in the world, can’t land there.  Neither can Grey.  But they land anyway.

Can I do this with her?

She’s an adult.

She can make her own decisions.

And I want her to look at me this way once she knows me…knows what I’m capable of. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You know that, don’t you?” She needs to understand this. I want her submission, but more than that I want her consent.

Nope.  Nope, nope, nope.  He doesn’t care about consent.  He wants to railroad her, and was tempted to rape her.  And no, making a decision doesn’t count when it’s made under duress.  Consent doesn’t count when someone’s making it out of fear or because they are scared they’ll be hurt.  Grey’s already told us, “I’ll fuck her in time.”  He’s not going to take no for an answer.

Clearly this is James’s way of trying to give non-fans the middle finger.  It doesn’t make things better.

They go into his apartment, and Ana is clutching her coat around her like she’s scared.  She should be.  She should be terrified and running.

Despite knowing that the night before is her first night drinking, and without knowing how much it took to get her so drunk, or maybe not caring, Grey gets some wine.  His plan to try to obtain what he’ll try to justify as consent involves alcohol.

This…

Getting a woman tipsy to try getting sex is rape.

You’re very quiet, and you’re not even blushing. In fact, I think this is the palest I’ve ever seen you, Anastasia. Are you hungry?”

She shakes her head and takes another sip. Maybe she’s in need of some liquid courage, too.

Scared young woman, who is drinking in fear, and he acknowledges this.

After she’s had some alcohol, he gets the nondisclosure agreement, which isn’t even legally binding.  You have the right to disclose who you have sex with, as long as it’s truthful.

“It means you cannot disclose anything about us. Anything, to anyone.”

She searches my face and I don’t know if she’s confused or displeased.

This could go either way.

“Okay. I’ll sign,” she says.

Well, that was easy. I hand her my Mont Blanc and she places the pen at the signature line.

Signature obtained from a woman getting inebriated just to talk, who he witnessed didn’t read it.  He doesn’t even have plausible deniability.  If she took it home and signed without reading, he wouldn’t know.  Here, he knows.

And before I can begin my pitch, she asks, “Does this mean you’re going to make love to me tonight, Christian?”

What?

Me?

Make love?

Oh, Grey, let’s disabuse her of this straightaway. “No, Anastasia, it doesn’t. First, I don’t make love. I fuck, hard.

They’re so far from being on the same page that they’re not even in the same book.

“Second, there’s a lot more paperwork to do. And third, you don’t yet know what you’re in for. You could still run from here screaming! Come, I want to show you my playroom.”

She’s nonplussed, the little v forming between her brows. “You want to play on your Xbox?”

That was played for laughs in the movie previews, but it’s played straight here.  This young woman is that innocent that she thinks that he wants to play an XBox before having sex.

I know it’s because she knows nothing about the lifestyle.

I open the door and follow her into my playroom.

My safe place.

The only place where I’m truly myself.

Ana stands in the middle of the room, studying all the paraphernalia that is so much a part of my life: the floggers, the canes, the bed, the bench…She’s silent, drinking it in, and all I hear is the deafening pounding of my heart as the blood rushes past my eardrums.

Now you know.

Paragraph-abuse is a bad way to pad a book.  Also, no.  Opening the door doesn’t mean she knows about the lifestyle.  You can see one of these:

But that doesn’t mean you know about it, any more than Ana knows about what Christian wants.  That is called a humbler, and here is a picture of how it’s used.  I’m trusting my readers to not need to be told that a link demonstrating how to use a BDSM object isn’t going to be safe for work.

“You’re a sadist?” she says, startling me.

Fuck. She sees me.

“I’m a Dominant,” I say quickly, hoping to move the conversation on.

“What does that mean?” she inquires, shocked, I think.

“It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, in all things.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To please me,” I whisper. This is what I need from you. “In very simple terms, I want you to want to please me.”

She certainly starts off right.  And he admits, at least to us, that she wis right.

“So you’ll get your kicks by exerting your will over me.”

Spot on, Miss Steele.

“It’s about gaining your trust and your respect, so you’ll let me exert my will over you.” I need your permission, baby. “I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy even, in your submission. The more you submit, the greater my joy—it’s a very simple equation.”

“Okay, and what do I get out of this?”

“Me.” I shrug. That’s it, baby. Just me. All of me. And you’ll find pleasure, too…

There we go.  It’s all about him.  Pleasure for her is a byproduct.  She’s an object for his sexual gratification.  His attempts at wooing her were just because she’s a toy he wants.

Ana’s overwhelmed, so overwhelmed she loses her appetite.

“I’m really not hungry,” she whispers.

“You will eat.”

The look she gives me is defiant.

“Would you like another glass of wine?” I ask, as a peace offering.

“Yes, please.”

I pour wine into her glass and sit down beside her. “Help yourself to food, Anastasia.”

A peace offering for a woman who is scared isn’t to give her more wine and get her drunker.  Seriously, Grey, don’t you dare expect us to believe you’re about consent, or that she’s in any condition to give it.  She’s three hours from home, and her only way to get there is you.  You’ve getting her drunk.  You know she’s overwhelmed and in way over her head.

“Will you hurt me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Physically, will you hurt me?”

Only what you can take.

“I will punish you when you require it, and it will be painful.”

For example, when you get drunk and put yourself at risk.

Like now?  She’s backed into a corner.  She’s a captive to this.  Again, she has no way home, and she’s inebriated.  And no, he won’t stop.  The first book ended with her leaving in tears because he did far, far, FAR more than she could take.

“This is it, shit-or-bust time. I know my limits by heart, and mentally tick off the list as I watch her read through. Her face grows paler and paler as she nears the end.

Fuck, I hope this isn’t frightening her off.

I want her. I want her submission…badly. She swallows, glancing nervously up at me. How can I persuade her to give this a try? I should reassure her, show her that I’m capable of caring.

“Is there anything you’d like to add?”

Deep down I hope she won’t add anything. I want carte blanche with her. She stares at me, still at a loss for words. It’s irritating. I’m not used to waiting for answers. “Is there anything you won’t do?” I prompt.

“I don’t know.”

Not the response I was expecting.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

She shifts in her seat, looking uncomfortable, her teeth toying with her bottom lip. Again. “I’ve never done anything like this.”

How dense can he be?  No, not dense.  Uncaring.  He’s admitted to us that she’s innocent and doesn’t know anything.  So how could she know what she’s not willing to do?  She’s asking questions like if he’ll hurt her because she doesn’t know.  HE KNOWS she’s entirely ignorant  HE KNOWS she’s a virgin.  We’re almost at that point.  I’m curious to see how James has hi justify pretending to be shocked when she tells him point-blank.

“Well, when you’ve had sex, was there anything that you didn’t like doing?” And I’m reminded of the photographer fumbling all over her yesterday.

“Well, I’ve not had sex before, so I don’t know,” she whispers.

The earth stops spinning.

I don’t fucking believe it.

How?

Why?

Fuck!

“Never?” I’m incredulous.

She shakes her head, eyes wide.

“You’re a virgin?” I don’t believe it.

She nods, embarrassed. I close my eyes. I can’t look at her.

How the hell did I get this so wrong?

Anger lances through me. What can I do with a virgin? I glare at her as fury surges through my body.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I growl, and start pacing my study. What do I want with a virgin? She shrugs apologetically, at a loss for words.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.” The exasperation is clear in my voice.

“The subject never came up,” she says. “I’m not in the habit of revealing my sexual status to everyone I meet. I mean, we hardly know each other.”

As ever, it’s a fair point. I can’t believe I’ve given her the bus tour of my playroom—thank heavens for the NDA.

“Well, you know a lot more about me now,” I snarl. “I knew you were inexperienced, but a virgin! Hell, Ana, I just showed you…”

Not only the playroom: my rules, hard limits. She knows nothing. How could I do this?

“May God forgive me,” I mutter under my breath. I’m at a loss.

A startling thought occurs to me—our one kiss in the elevator, where I could have fucked her there and then—was that her first kiss?”

“Have you ever been kissed, apart from by me?” Please say yes.

“Of course I have.” She looks offended. Yeah, she’s been kissed, but not often. And for some reason the thought is…pleasing.”

Oh.  That’s how.  He has had every indication she’s a virgin.  She can’t even say the word “sex,” and he just plain knows.  I can’t figure out why he’s really so mad when he should have known.  Let’s just chalk this one up to him being in denial, I suppose, since it’s so obvious he wants someone experienced.  Except…no.  That can’t be it either  He’s fantasized about training her when he’s thought about her innocence.  He’s been turned on by her innocence.  So this doesn’t make sense.

He’s also angry at her, and you know as well as I do that Ana’s aware of his anger.  She is in her first book.  She’s inebriated, captive, and with a man who is livid that she’s confirmed her virginity.

She really knows nothing. How could she ever be a submissive if she has no idea about sex? This is not going to fly…and all the groundwork I’ve done has been for nothing. I can’t close this deal.

“Why are you so angry with me?” she whispers.”

Nope, she can’t consent to jack about BSDM.  There can be no Safe, Sane, Consent about it when she can’t consent to what she doesn’t understand.  However, she does know he’s pissed off.

I’ll leave this entry there.  Just think about her situation.  He’s given her alcohol on purpose, knows she’s scared, and she’s trapped, and she is overwhelmed, confused, and she knows he’s mad.  And, to make it worse, that morning she woke up, nearly naked, in a hotel room, in his bed, where she didn’t consent to be taken.  In her situation, how many women would even feel safe saying no?

Some assurance for those of you who are against equal rights

In a few days, I’ll write about how this is relevant to my books, and why it may change my in-progress draft for my third book.

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I get it.  No, not really, but let’s pretend I do.  You’re upset that today’s ruling means other people have the same rights as you.  Maybe you’re upset because the bible says it’s wrong.  The bible also says swearing at your parents is punishable by death.  Maybe you just plain think that two women or two men having sex is gross because you wouldn’t want to do what they do.  Well, a lot of opposite-sex couples do thinks not every other opposite-sex couple wants to do.  Maybe you think the point of marriage is procreation. Does that go for people who don’t want to have children, are infertile, can’t have children because it’s not safe for them, and people over their childbearing years?  Perhaps you’re concerned that some kids will only have moms or only have dads.  Newsflash for you: Single parenthood is already common, and most of those kids only have solitary parent, not two.  Whatever your reason, you’re upset and let down that other people now have the same rights.

I would like to tell you why you don’t need to be upset, scared, or offended, and why you should get your knickers out of a twist and to stop clutching the pearls.

Nothing in today’s ruling affects your marriage. Your marriage is just as it always have been. If it’s been sacred to you before today, then it should still be sacred to you. If Brittany Spears’ “just for fun” marriage of 72 hours didn’t affect your marriage, then two same-sex people getting married won’t affect it either.

Not yet married? Then still, no worries! You don’t have to marry someone of your sex just because two other people now can.

If marriage only had meaning because marriage was withheld from others, then all that gave your marriage any meaning is hate, and that’s sad, but you can still be married and get married just the same as you always have.

If you’re worried about others having to give the same service to same sex couples, again, don’t worry. Those people have the same choice available to them as people who are against interracial marriage have. They can get a job in a different industry, or go work for a religious non-profit, where discrimination will remain allowable.

If you’re worried about the bakers and pizza places that have to give equal service (today’s ruling might not add sexuality to the list of federally protected classifications of people anyway), making a cake doesn’t mean you support the marriage of a same-sex couple any more than it means you support the fifth marriage of a serial-adulterer. Making that cake just means you’re following the laws for your job, or, if you’re the owner the establishment, then you’re merely upholding the laws you agreed to when you decided to open the establishment.

If you’re worried about churches, today’s ruling only affect civil marriages, aka the government side of things. You may not realize it, but churches can still choose who to marry. In fact, churches can, and do, turn away interracial couples, or even same-race couples, solely for race. In 2012, the First Baptist Church in Crystal Springs, Mississippi did just that. They turned away a black couple, and no wedding for any black person has been held there since 1883. As a non-government non-profit religious institution, the church can do that, just like any church can still refuse to do a same-sex ceremony today. So don’t worry that your precious church might have to all a same-sex couple to dedicate their lives to each other in a ceremony of love. Your church won’t have to. No church will have to.

Literally nothing has changed for YOU. You don’t have to marry a same-sex partner, and your marriage is no less valid. Nothing has changed regarding religious freedom. Churches don’t have to marry same-sex couples, and no one’s forcing you to approve of an couple who gets married, whether they’re same-sex couples of people who are on their eighth and tenth marriages. It’s life as it’s always been for you. So chill. It’s fine. I promise you, you’ll be as fine as you’ve always been.

Equality is finally the law of the US land!

In a few days, I’ll write about how this is relevant to my books, and why it may change my in-progress draft for my third book.

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Today the US Supreme Court finally caught up with other countries like Canada, South Africa, and Portugal.  Same-sex marriage is finally legal in all 50 states, and there’s nothing Texas, Kentucky, or anyone can do about it.  I think every other supportive post everyone else has made sums up my feelings on this.  The sense of pride in forward movement.  The relief that my friends will finally be able to marry.  Relief that they can travel freely without worry that their marriage might be invalid if they’re on vacation and an emergency happens.  Gratitude that today’s children, including my daughter, can grow up without the worry that whoever she wants to marry (if she wants to marry) is off the table because of sex.  Instead of another post of the same, I would like to share how this ruling affects my opposite-sex marriage in a positive way.

We’ve had a strong marriage from the start.  That’s never been in question.  But there’s been a lingering sense of guilt.

When my husband and I got married in 2010, supporting marriage equality was important to us, and so we had the following reading from the Massachusetts ruling in 2003:

Marriage is a vital social institution. The exclusive commitment of two individuals to each other nurtures love and mutual support.

Civil marriage is at once a deeply personal commitment to another human being and a highly public celebration of the ideals of mutuality, companionship, intimacy, fidelity, and family. Because it fulfils yearnings for security, safe haven, and connection that express our common humanity, civil marriage is an esteemed institution and the decision whether and whom to marry is among life’s momentous acts of self-definition.

It is undoubtedly for these concrete reasons, as well as for its intimately personal significance, that civil marriage has long been termed a “civil right.” Without the right to choose to marry one is excluded from the full range of human experience.

Before our wedding, we had hesitation about getting married because it wasn’t fair that so many people were excluded for such a stupid reason as the religion of others. But as parents, and due to my medical issues, it would have been irresponsible for us to shun marriage since us not getting married ultimately wasn’t going to help others to get married.

Since then, what’s felt wrong about marriage is how many people had continued to be excluded because of bigotry. I haven’t really been able to say, with pride, “Yeah, I’m married,” because there’s always been a pang because it’s been a privilege held away from friends of ours. I’ve hated that I haven’t been able to always admit, with pride, that this guy is my husband, when the reason for any measure of shame has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with laws based 100% in religious bigotry.

Today’s the day I can finally be 100% proud since today is the day that ANY two consenting adults can get married ANYWHERE in the US, and their genitalia will no longer matter, as it never should have. And going forward from today, our daughter will not be held back in who she chooses to marry, if she even chooses to marry. Today’s children won’t have to know the discrimination that so many people before them have known.  This country can’t set right all the wrongs of the past, but today’s same-sex couples can finally enjoy the privileges and protections of marriage.  Welcome to a higher tax bracket with the rest of us! =D

Welcome to Equality.  It’s a great place to be.

At least in this regard, the US is finally caught up, and we can finally be proud. ALL of us can be proud. Equality in America has finally won.

Grey, Chapter 6: Sunday, May 21st, 2011, PART 2

(Directory of recap links)

Before I start the second part of this chapter, I just want to share something disturbing about the Heathman.  The no longer are annoyed by the fans.  They now embrace them, for a fee.  I haven’t had a chance to talk to any of the doormen since this package was started, but before it did, I talked to them as I’d pass, and none of them were thrilled to be connected to Fifty Shades, and one of them told me the manager was pretty ticked since fans have clogged up the place without buying anything.  And the doormen?  They have to pose with every fan who comes along.  As if they don’t already have to dress like this on hot days….

Since the Heathman now supports this book, I know where I’m no longer going to have tea, which sucks since I was planning to take my daughter there after her last ballet intensive summer class in a couple weeks.

---

To pick up where we left off, Grey internally whines about the Bicyclist of Doom.  Get over it.  In downtown Portland, you’re not getting anywhere very fast, whether in a car, on foot, by train, or by bike.  He gives her another one of those brooding-bad-boy warnings about how he finds it impossible to stay away.

It’s easy, Grey.  I promise.  You just…stay away.  That’s all.  Easy-peasy mac-and-cheesy.

Poor, dumb girl tells him, “Then don’t.”  Knowing what I know about Ana from the first books makes it hard to see her in a favorable light since she does have some racist and very classist tendencies, and she does use her friends.  But she doesn’t deserve what Grey does.  As he admits, she’s innocent to the point of impossibly ignorant, to the point that she really doesn’t know his warning should be taken to heart.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Enlighten me, then.”
Her words travel straight to my cock.
Fuck.
“You’re not celibate?” she asks.
“No, Anastasia, I’m not celibate.” And if you’d let me tie you up I’d prove it to you right now.
Her eyes widen and her cheeks pink.
Oh, Ana.
I have to show her. It’s the only way I’ll know.

Only way he’ll know what?  I don’t know.  Maybe the only way he’ll know if she’s a virgin?  He has every reason to think she is.  She’s so shy that the knowledge that he’s not a virgin embarrasses her.

He demands to know her work schedule for reasons obvious to us.  He wants to sex her up.  After that, he wants to know her new address in Seattle, which she doesn’t know, but the general area is close to him.  That thrills him.  No more traveling to stalk her.  He does get annoyed that she hasn’t applied for an internship as his company.

Run!  Run!  Abort!  Danger, Will Robinson!

We get some lopsided flirting that would be cute given almost any other couple.  Instead we’ve got Ignorant Girl and Jerkass Boy.  But he won’t kiss her until he has her written consent.

Run!  Run!  Abort!  Danger, Will Robinson!  Faster!  GET AWAY!

If a guy won’t even KISS until there’s something in writing, something’s wrong!  Maybe he’s been in legal trouble before.  Maybe he plans to do things you don’t agree to, and wants the consent to say, “She did TOO say I could shove ginger root up her ass, Your Honor!  See?  She signed saying I can kiss her!”

In Fifty Shades, we can tell she’s got an adrenaline rush going on, which is a normal response to fear as well as excitement.  It started when she woke up in his bed, and she does become convinced it’s her own arousal.

They agree that he’ll fly her to Seattle that night so he can better…inform…her of what he’s talking about by his “singular” taste.

Please, Ana, run!

“Eat!” My voice is more forceful. “Anastasia, I have an issue with wasted food. Eat.”
“I can’t eat all this.” She studies all the food on the table and I feel guilty once more. Yes, there is too much food here.
“Eat what’s on your plate. If you’d eaten properly yesterday, you wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t be declaring my hand so soon.”

He doesn’t really feel guilt.  People who feel guilt try not to repeat their actions.  He never changes but to get worse.  And if he has an issue with wasted food, he shouldn’t have ordered so much, especially without asking what she even likes.

“You’ll need all your strength for tonight, for what I have to show you.
Suddenly, she gets up from the table and I have to stop myself from telling her that she doesn’t have permission.
She’s not your submissive…yet, Grey.
On the way back to the bedroom, she pauses by the sofa.
“Where did you sleep last night?” she asks.
“In my bed.” With you.
“Oh.”
“Yes, it was quite a novelty for me, too.”
“Not having…sex.”
She said the s-word…and the telltale pink cheeks appear.”

Yeah, he knows full well she’s a virgin, and he’s so, so, so obviously intending to take her from virgin to full-blown sex slave very fast.  I wonder how James is going to explain away his supposed shock at finding out she’s a virgin when he’s already sussed it out.

While she dries her hair, at his insistence that she will get sick if she doesn’t, he’s full of self-congratulations for getting that far in the fame, and then calls the valet to bring his car up.  Protip: If you don’t have a car valet-parked in Portland, they can’t get it for you.  Not only will they not have a key, but they won’t have any idea where on earth it is.

He calls Ros, and we have no idea why.  We are informed she says something about Darfur, but Grey isn’t paying attention to anything but Ana.  Goes to show how much Darfur matters to him.  When Ros wraps up the call, Grey self-congratulates again because Ros is pushing a food shipment forward.  Grey’s so interested in all of this that he tunes it out and does nothing.  I guarantee you that anything sent to Darfur is nothing more than a tax write-off and PR move.  This isn’t like Taylor Swift personally making an unannounced donation to a badly injured firefighter.  She just gives, and to no fanfare.  Grey does nothing without expecting something in return, such as with the books, and if he can get out of doing anything, he’ll outsource the work to Andrea or Ros.

Frankly, it’s disgusting that James is using Darfur like this.  She could have had Grey arranging donations to real-life charities that fans could learn about and maybe donate to as well.  But no, charities are below Grey, and so she uses a real-life, tragic situation to try to make her abusive asshole of a herozero look of so caring even while showing how little he’s emotionally invested in it when there’s a vagina on legs that he hasn’t penetrated nearby.

They leave, and he grabs the car keys (yeah, about that valet…), and then we get that scene the movie fluffed up for promotion.  In the elevator.

I’m hard.
Instantly.
I want her.
Here.
Now.
In the elevator.
“Oh, fuck the paperwork.” The words come from nowhere and on instinct I grab her and push her against the wall. Clasping both her hands, I pin them above her head so she can’t touch me, and once she’s secure, I twist my other hand in her hair while my lips seek and find hers.

Yeah, about all that.  On instinct?  INSTINCT?  How deranged do you have you be that your instinct is to just take what you want of another person’s body?

When was the last time I lost control?
Three men in business suits give us knowing looks as they join us.
And I stare at the poster that’s above the buttons in the elevator advertising a sensual weekend at The Heathman. I glance at Ana and exhale.
She grins.
And my lips twitch once more.
What the fuck has she done to me?

Ignoring the part about those “knowing looks” which would, in reality, be either glares or those men openly ignoring what they just interrupted, I don’t like how he’s blaming Ana for his lack of self-control.  As for when the last time he lost control, that’s happened several times.  No, actually, he hasn’t lost control.  He still hasn’t.  Grey sees.  Grey wants.  Grey takes, and nothing you can say will stop him.

They reach the car, and James ruins another classical song for me.  Delibes’s “Flower Duet” plays in the car, and I’ll bet anything James looked up some songs to sound all impressive.  I grey up on this stuff, know what that song is, and fuck her for ruining it.  A lot of stupid fans praise her for the music mentioned in these books, but she has nothing to do with them.  Fifty Shades of Grey: The Classical Album, is just a compilation of classics, most which aren’t even named in these books.  She’s making money off of someone else’s work, just like she did with Stephenie Meyer.  Even this stupid Grey book is a stolen idea.  It’s a rip on Midnight Sun, which is Twilight from Edward’s perspective.  James has nothing original in that thick skull of hers.

Grey drives down Jefferson to the Fremont Bridge, and then to I5 to go north to Vancouver.  Input from a local: You aren’t going to take Jefferson to the Fremont bridge unless you like taking what is ultimately a longer way.  The Fremont Bridge, going north, splits off into four different freeways, and is often low for it.  The most direct way to Vancouver, taking Jefferson, is to take Jefferson, take a right on Park, right on Alder (lots of one-way roads), go over the Morrison Bridge, and the I5 entrance is right there.  Buuuuut what do I know?  I only live here, and am downtown four days a week, minimum.

Anyone ready for more filler?  Too bad.  Welsh calls with info on Jose’s background check, but Grey deflects it for the time being.  Can’t piss off Ana yet.  He calls Andrea, who tells him the NDA he wants Ana to sign has been sent.

Great.  He’s got an office assistant involved in his sex life.  Ana’s not paying attention.  She’s admiring the scenery.  What, the buildings?  There really isn’t anything to admire, whether you take the longer Fremont way, or the typical Morrison.

Elliot calls and asks if his brother got laid, and somehow this doesn’t tip off Ana to Grey’s intentions.

I’ll spare you the rest.  It’s no not relevant that I must be channeling the mythical 3-second goldfish brain since I forgot it all as soon as I read it.  Now for some more disregard of Ana’s wishes, and creepiness.

“Why do you insist on calling me Anastasia?” she asks.
“Because it’s your name.”
“I prefer Ana.”
“Do you, now?”
“Ana” is too everyday and ordinary for her. And too familiar. Those three letters have the power to wound…
And in that moment I know that her rejection, when it comes, will be hard to take. It’s happened before, but I’ve never felt this…invested. I don’t even know this girl, but I want to know her, all of her. Maybe it’s because I’ve never chased a woman.

Doesn’t matter what she wants.  Nope.  Only what he wants.  He’s used to getting what he wants right away, whether that’s to pick a woman’s name, which many of us connect with our identities, or their bodies.  His investment is some stalking.  Even he admits he doesn’t know her.

He does tell her nothing will happen again that isn’t “premeditated,” which makes what happens in two nights that much worse.

Once they get to Ana’s apartment, they walk in, and Kate’s visibly relieved.

Kavanagh jumps up and gives me a critical once-over as she hugs Ana.
What did she think I was going to do to the girl?
I know what I’d like to do to her…

Kate was thinking you were going to do what you almost did, that think you want to do to her right now.

“Miss Kavanagh.” And what I want to say is something sarcastic about how she’s finally showing some interest in her friend, but I hold my tongue.
“Christian, her name is Kate,” Elliot says with mild irritation.

Maybe it’s just me, but that sounds like Grey disregarding what people want to be called is a normal thing for him, which makes him ruder.

Also “finally”?  “FINALLY”?!  She’d been texting all morning trying to check up on Ana, and it was only when Elliot texted did you respond!

Grey and Elliot leave, and Elliot tries to tease his uptight brother.  Before the time-skip, Grey gets in a pot-shot at his mother.

I envy my brother: his ease with women, his ability to sleep…and the fact that he’s not the son of a bitch.

Get over it, Grey.  Every memory you have of your mother was her being affectionate, making you cake, trying to protect you.  That reeeaaally sounds like a bitch to me.  You want a bitch?  Take my mother.  I’d gladly trade you for yours.

---

Grey, Chapter 6: Sunday, May 21st, 2011, PART 1

This is the chapter where they have sex for the first time.  Yup, that one.

The epub, of this entire book so far, is 114 pages.  This chapter alone is 91 pages.  So I will have to split this probably into four or five sections to avoid a recap entry that is 20,000 words long.  Since I’m sharing my thoughts as I read through the first time, I don’t know yet how many parts this will be.

---

(Directory of recap links)

Grey heads to bed a couple hours later, and he acknowledges she’s comatose.  Again, this could kill her.  Who cares.  He wants her there, and he decides to sleep with her in the same bed.  I think we all know the feeling that comes with just the thought of someone we don’t give permission to crawling into bed with us.  That’s what’s happening to Ana right now.  The Duggars may try to hand-wave what happens when someone is asleep, but that doesn’t mean consent isn’t still needed.  Remember, Ana is in nothing but underwear right now, and she thought he was taking her home.  He should be parking his butt on the couch, at the least.  His decision to get in bed with her may be worse than his decision to strip her.

In an Edward Cullen move, he watches her sleep.  It’s creepy.  He watches her teeth through her lips, and when she murmurs something unintelligible and licks her lips…

It’s arousing, very arousing.

An unconscious woman is in his bed, and he’s aroused….

Morning dawns bright and early.  He complains about being in bed as late as 7:43am.

I have never slept with a woman. I’ve fucked many, but to wake up beside an alluring young woman is a new and stimulating experience. My cock agrees.

What is left to be said about how messed up it is that he’s so turned on by a nonconsenting woman in his bed?

He gets up, and we get filler about his email.  He does wonder how she’ll feel when she wakes up, but he is only referring to how hung over.

In the minibar I find a bottle of orange juice and empty it into a glass. She’s still asleep when I enter, her hair a riot of mahogany spread across her pillow, and the covers have slipped below her waist.

Her T-shirt has ridden up, exposing her belly and her navel. The sight stirs my body once more.
Stop standing here ogling the girl, for fuck’s sake, Grey.
I have to get out of here before I do something I’ll regret. Placing the glass on the bedside table, I duck into the bathroom, find two Advil in my travel kit, and deposit them beside the glass of orange juice.
With one last lingering look at Anastasia Steele—the first woman I’ve ever slept with—I head out for my run.

Where did that t-shirt suddenly come from?  Of course it’s his.  She didn’t have one.  Sleeping in someone else’s clothes, aside from borrowing from a friend or relative, is a fairly intimate thing.

Again, a reference to how horny he is, followed by what may be his only reasonable thought about not ogling her.  I think this will be the last time.  I’m also not impressed by him leaving before he does something he’ll regret.  He doesn’t regret anything.  I think we’re supposed to think it’s so sweet that he’s not raping her right now.  We all know how turned on he is.

As someone who goes into anaphylactic shock if I have Advil, I’m not impressed that he plunked down a couple pills.  Given the situation of how he told her he was taking her one place, and took her somewhere else, any drink and pills he gives her should be suspect.

It also sounds like he’s celebrating her being in his bed.

This is the book of many time-skips.  Two pages in, and we are on our third clunky cut.

He goes out running, gets home, sees the bag Taylor left, marvels that he got everything before 9am.  Problem?  NONE of the clothing shops are open before 9am, NONE, especially on a Sunday.  Absolutely no stores come to mind that are open before 10am on Sundays, though some aren’t open until 11am, and quite a few are closed altogether.  Nordstrom is the big clothing store downtown, and on Sundays..,let me use this nifty thing called Google that James should learn about…they’re not open until 11am.  Where on earth did Taylor find a new outfit up for Grey’s standards on a Sunday before 9am?  Nowhere, that’s where.

Time to wake the delectable Miss Steele; she’s slept enough.
Grabbing my workout towel and the shopping bag, I knock on the door and enter. To my delight, she’s sitting up in bed. The tablets are gone and so is the juice.
Good girl.
She pales as I saunter into the room.
Keep it casual, Grey. You don’t want to be charged with kidnapping.

What about that makes him so dangerous?  Hint: It’s not his controlling thoughts about how she’s slept enough or that she’s a “good girl” for consuming what he gave her.  It’s the last part.  He’s fully aware that he’s abducted her.  He just doesn’t care.

Knowing something is wrong and not caring is sociopathic.  Hold on to that link  I’m going to come back to it in a moment.

I’m going line by line on this next part.

“How did I get here?” she asks, as though she’s afraid of the answer.

She should be utterly terrified.

Reassure her, Grey.

If he had done what he said and taken her home, she wouldn’t need reassurance.  He’s also only concerned about reassuring her since sex is on the line.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and stick to the facts. “After you passed out, I didn’t want to risk the leather upholstery in my car, taking you all the way to your apartment. So I brought you here.”

That damned car is more important than his word.  He’s rich enough to get the car cleaned.  He also could have put her in a cab.  He had options that didn’t include abduction and actions that could arguably be seen as sexual assault.

“Did you put me to bed?”
“Yes.”
“Did I throw up again?”
“No.” Thank God.
“Did you undress me?”
“Yes.” Who else would have undressed you?

I think her questions are fair, and Grey obviously thinks she’s stupid.  Maybe someone else undressed her.  Maybe she wanted to confirm that the asshole beside her really did it.  ENTIRELY FAIR TO ASK.

She blushes, and at last she has some color in her cheeks. Perfect teeth bite down on her lip. I suppress a groan.

She’s just woken up, is scared, and he’s turned on.  I think the shocker at this point would be him being turned off.

We didn’t—?” she whispers, staring at her hands.
Christ, what kind of animal does she think I am?

She thinks you’re the monster you are!  How many times did we hear cock-reference and how it was wanting her?  How many times did you look at her nearly naked body, and want to plunge into her when she didn’t even consent to be there in the first place?

“Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing.” My tone is dry. “I like my women sentient and receptive.”

LIES!  FUCKING LIES!!  OH MY GOD, WHAT A LIAR!!  He’s been nothing BUT turned on by her while she was passed out!!

She sags with relief, which makes me wonder if this has happened to her before, that she’s passed out and woken up in a stranger’s bed and found out he’s fucked her without her consent.

So he knows consent exists.  He just chooses to ignore it.  Again, he’s dangerous for this.  It’s not like he doesn’t know right from wrong.  He just doesn’t care.

You didn’t have to track me down with whatever James Bond gadgetry you’re developing for the highest bidder.”
Whoa! Now she’s pissed. Why?
“First, the technology to track cell phones is available over the Internet.”
Well, the Deep Net…
“Second, my company does not invest or manufacture any kind of surveillance devices.”
My temper is fraying, but I’m on a roll.

She pissed because you used illegal technology to track her down after she refused to give you her location, lied to her about where you were taking her, and then she woke up almost naked in your bed!  She has EVERY right to be MORE THAN pissed, and YOU have NO right to be mad.  Your temper fraying shows how unstable you are when someone else reacts in a perfectly reasonable way to your illegal actions.

He broods and tells her there’s nothing good about him.  Too bad creeps like him pull that since a lot of women believe that, if it was true, then he wouldn’t be doing the god thing by telling them.  In a twisted way, it gets trust.

You need to eat. That’s why you were so ill. Honestly, it’s drinking rule number one.”
“Are you going to continue to scold me?”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“I think so.”
“You’re lucky I’m just scolding you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday.

Drinking Rule #1 is to make sure you have a safe way home BEFORE you start drinking.  Also, eating won’t mean you won’t get drunk.  My bread pudding will get you drunk while you’re eating it.  I think I’m going to make some after this post is up.

Grey’s got no right to scold her, and then, well, does that last sentence sound ominous to you?

Well, if you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday.

Stunt?  You mean going out to celebrate with some friends after graduation?  Granted, Jose is a hose-bag who should be castrated without anesthesia.  Grey controlling who she’s allowed to see, when, and where, is a recurring theme in these books.  FFS, in Darker, he wanted to beat her for daring to leave the apartment with Kate, who she hadn’t seen in weeks, and a few guards, because he had forbidden her from leaving, even though her leaving is the only reason she wasn’t there when her former boss broke in, intent on raping or killing her.

“José just got out of line,” she says, dismissing my concern and tossing her tangled hair over her shoulder.
“Well, the next time he gets out of line, maybe someone should teach him some manners.”
“You’re quite the disciplinarian,” she snaps.
“Oh, Anastasia, you have no idea.”

Ana, Dear, RUN.  Also excusing Jose shows that she’s already primed to excuse assault.  Grey has a little fantasy…

An image of her shackled to my bench, peeled gingerroot inserted in her ass so she can’t clench her buttocks, comes to mind, followed by judicious use of a belt or strap. Yeah…That would teach her not to be so irresponsible. The thought is hugely appealing.

I’m sorry, I’m laughing right now.  This is so…so out there that it’s like we’re being punked.  A ginger root (it’s two words, not one) in the ass?  This one’s been all over Twitter.  I don’t know if you’ve ever seen ginger root, take a look.

That’s really what he wants to force into her?  Is this supposed to be a turn-on?  Because it’s not.  It’s hilaribad.  Hilariously bad.

Also, he’s aroused again.  He may as well tell us each time he inhales.

She’s staring at me wide-eyed and dazed, and it makes me uncomfortable. Can she read my mind? Or is she just looking at a pretty face.

He’s got no self-esteem issues….

She’s hard to resist, and I grant myself permission to touch her, tracing the line of her cheek with my thumb. Her breath catches in her throat as I stroke her soft bottom lip.

But did she give you any sort of permission?  Of course not, but that matters not to Grey.

In the bathroom I take a deep breath, strip, and climb into the shower. I’m half tempted to jerk off…

Uh huh.  Only half?

As the water cascades over my head I reflect on my latest interaction with the challenging Miss Steele. She’s still here, in my bed, so she cannot find me completely repulsive. I noticed the way her breath caught in her throat, and how her gaze followed me around the room.
Yeah. There’s hope.

Those are normal reactions to FEAR.

But would she make a good submissive?
It’s obvious she knows nothing of the lifestyle. She couldn’t even say “fuck” or “sex” or whatever bookish college students use as a euphemism for fucking these days. She’s quite the innocent.

NO, she would NOT, Grey.  Being a submissive means giving knowledgable consent.  Someone so innocent that she can’t even say the word SEX isn’t someone you should even be considering at this point.  She’s not someone you met on Kink.com, or who was introduced to you by someone you both know who knows you have similar interests.  She’s an innocent, ignorant young woman whose thinking is more in line with a shy pre-teen, and you’re thinking about whether or not it would be appropriate to tie her up and beat her after already barely not raping her.

He gets out of the shower, and Ana rushes into the privacy of the bathroom.

Hmm…she couldn’t get into the bathroom quick enough.
Away from me.

As she should.

Just call room service when you want the table cleared, sir,” Miss Dark Eyes says with a coquettish look, as if she’s offering more.
My chilly smile warns her off.

I used to work in room service, though for a different hotel.  If there was ever any indication at all that someone in room service was crushing on a guest, you weren’t allowed to go anywhere near that guest, and could lose your job.  We had bona fide celerities stay with us, and took this very seriously.

Grey gets a text from Elliot.  Kate’s worried about Ana and wants to know if she’s even alive.  As far as either of them know, Grey took Ana home, and was there with her.  But she’s not there.

Alive and kicking. 😉

His reply is not funny.

After she gets out of the shower, he orders her to sit and eat, and then chastises her for her hair being damp because she might get sick.  Puh-leaze.  It’s May in Portland.  In this area, even in the winter, carrying an umbrella is more for show, and people don’t get sick and die.  Get over it, Grey.

She makes her discomfort with the books well-known, and he refuses to accept them back because he’s rich.  But he won’t tell her why he sent them.

“Why did you send me the books, Christian?”
Because I wanted to see you again, and here you are…

Excerpt From: E L James. “Grey: Fifty Shades of Grey as Told by Christian.” iBooks.

Because he wanted something for himself.

With 76 pages left in this chapter alone, I’m calling an end to this entry’s recap.

I do want to get back to an earlier link, about sociopathy.  I’m going to play armchair shrink right now.

Psychology Today is a respected publication about psychological issues.

…the sociopath has an attention bottleneck that allows him to focus only on one activity or train of thought, to the exclusion of others.

As we see with Grey’s utter obsession with sex with Ana.

The tollowing 16 are used to define psychopathy and sociopathy.

• Superficial charm and good intelligence
• Absence of delusions and other signs of irrational thinking
• Absence of nervousness or neurotic manifestations
• Unreliability
• Untruthfulness and insincerity
• Lack of remorse and shame
• Inadequately motivated antisocial behavior
• Poor judgment and failure to learn by experience
• Pathologic egocentricity and incapacity for love
• General poverty in major affective reactions
• Specific loss of insight
• Unresponsiveness in general interpersonal relations
• Fantastic and uninviting behavior with alcohol and sometimes without
• Suicide threats rarely carried out
• Sex life impersonal, trivial, and poorly integrated
• Failure to follow any life plan

Grey exhibits all but the threat of suicide, and failure to follow any lie plan.  He’s not reliable, not trustworthy, lacks any and all shame about his bad actions…  All 14 of those that he fits are already apparent in just the first 13.5% of this book.  He also fits the description of a psychopath:

Psychopathy is among the most difficult disorders to spot. The psychopath can appear normal, even charming. Underneath, they lack conscience and empathy, making them manipulative, volatile and often (but by no means always) criminal. They are an object of popular fascination and clinical anguish: psychopathy is largely impervious to treatment.

This is Grey to a T, to the point that this may as well have been written about him.  He’s been seeing therapists, and his current therapist for a few years.  No progress has ever been made.  He is also an admitted criminal.  So all of that describes him.

Grey is dangerous, very, very dangerous….

Striking a Balance

So I’m sitting here right now, working on Sacred Heart (I may need to retitle that lest someone thinks it’s a religious book, but I have no ideas what to replace Heart with), and all I can think about is how to show the vulnerability doesn’t mean weakness.

For the uninitiated, Sacred Blood is about Juliette’s 18th year, when, soon after aging out of the foster system, she’s in an abusive relationship, escapes, and, rather than being saved, saves others and herself in the process.  She reclaims her life as her own.  It was important to me that she not stick with, or try to defend, abuse, throughout the book, but yet for her to also show a lot of victims stay in bad situations.  She turns from victim to survivor, partly through being the one to initiate escape, and going on to become a leader in a supernatural battle.  I’m pretty proud of how I wrapped up the relationship aspect of that book since I didn’t want to send the message that a woman is only complete if she has a man.

Sacred Heart shows the next three years of her life, when she’s struck out on her own.  I show her building her life, building a career in films, which include things she doesn’t necessarily enjoy, but that’s work for you.  She has a couple relationships in this book as part of her process of self-discovery, and through it, learns self-sacrifice for the sake of family, and that she has more family than she thought.

So we’ve got her early time, her self-discovery, and the third book is meant to show her starting her own little family with an unplanned pregnancy, still working on letting go of her past, dealing with emotions she didn’t realize could so easily surface, and just generally having to grow up in more ways than she bargained for.  Something I want to show is that it’s okay to be vulnerable and let others take care of you.  As someone who has a lot of medical issues, and unfortunately has to rely on my husband more than I really like to admit, I know it can be harder to let go, and let someone else do the things I can’t do for myself at the time.  But the balance I need to strike with Juliette is not to have her look weak to seem like she’s regressed into childhood.  While pregnant, one of the literal demons from her past returns.  So she is vulnerable, and necessarily isolated for protection.  This would be a tough thing for most people.  Yet her isolation leaves her exposed in many ways.

Each book presents a different stage in her life, and right now I feel I have vulnerable and afraid turns into finding strength, strength turns into take total charge, and vulnerable in a…well, right now I fear it is showing her as helpless, even though she’s not.  Despite her isolation, she’s still wanting to be entirely independent, which sometimes comes out in ways that are more petulant than anything.  She’s just plain in a tough situation.

I really like what I have so far, at least story-wise.  I’m just concerned I have be going too far in one direction that it’s not balanced.  In a trilogy that’s meant to show a woman as not a weakling and not spineless, I’m afraid I may have written myself into a corner where she could easily become just that.

Well, it’s a challenge, figuring out how to get out of this corner without pulling any cheater deus ex machina moves, and if there’s anything I embrace, it’s a challenge.