Trout Nation Posts

Let me begin this recap by being brutally honest with y’all. I am not sure, after filling out the domestic violence questionnaire for Ana, how “funny” I can find this book anymore. When I first finished reading it, I thought it was funny, because how could anyone not understand that this isn’t a good relationship? But stuff stops being hilarious when a social worker sends you all her red flag charts and you realize that the book you just read is being held up as a romantic ideal by women all over the nation.

Last night, I went out with my husband and his mom to celebrate Mother’s Day. Our celebration ended up, as so many of them do, at the casino buffet. We were seated next to a table of women who, just as we got settled into our meals, started discussing 50 Shades. One of the women mentioned that a friend was reading it, but wouldn’t refer to it by name. Another said she had read it, but she could never tell her husband, because he would be “furious”. My first thought was, “Her husband is an English teacher.” My second thought, and the one that is probably most accurate was, “He is probably a controlling freak of a man who would hate that his wife was exploring her sexuality in any way, because he feels inferior about himself and becomes jealous and unreasonable over stupid things he should have no desire to control.”

So, if this recap seems needlessly morose and utterly humorless, bear with me.

Chapter fourteen begins with Christian standing over Ana with riding crop. He’s wearing ripped jeans and she’s wearing nothing but shackles. Then he hits her directly in the clit with the riding crop, and she goes off like a firecracker on July 3rd.

But oh, snap, it was just a sexy dream. She goes into the kitchen, where Kate can immediately tell that something is different about Ana. Because she vastly overestimates everyone’s interest in her sex life, Ana is sure that Kate can tell she just had a sleep orgasm, and that’s why she says that Ana looks “odd”. Just off the top of my head, Ana, you’re wearing pajamas and Christian’s suit jacket. That might make you look slightly odd.

What can I say? His HIV status is clear, he’s heavily into role-play, wants me to obey his every command, he hurt someone he tied to his bedroom ceiling, and he wanted to fuck me in the private dining room. Would that be a good summary? I try desperately to remember something from my encounter with Christian that I can discuss with Kate.
“He doesn’t approve of Wanda.”

Last night I found it hard to sleep. My head was buzzing with various options. I am so confused. Christian’s idea of a relationship is more like a job offer. It has set hours, a job description, and a rather harsh grievance procedure. It’s not how I envisaged my first romance – but, of course, Christian doesn’t do romance. If I tell him I want more, he may say no… and I could jeopardize what he has offered. And this is what concerns e most, because I don’t want to lose him. But I’m not sure I have the stomach to be his submissive – deep down, it’s the cans and whips that put me off. I’m a physical coward, and I will go a long way to avoid pain. I think of my dream… is that what it would be like? My inner goddess jumps up and down with cheerleading pom-poms shouting yes at me.

Kate comes back into the kitchen with her laptop. I concentrate on my bagel and listen patiently as she runs through her Valedictorian speech.

Maybe it would be more polite to concentrate on the damn speech you offered to listen to. Ana’s dad arrives to take her graduation, and they greet each other in a wholly American fashion, both of them saying they’re “pleased to see” one another. Then Ana offers Ray tea, and before he can answer, we’re in the parking lot at the college with no other transition at all. They head into the “sports auditorium”, where Ray notices that something is “off” about Ana:

“Good luck, Annie. You seem awfully nervous, do you have anything to do?” Holy crap… why has Ray picked today to be so observant?
“No, Dad. It’s a big day.” And I’m going to see him

I think that if you’re more excited about seeing the creepy guy you’re pseudo dating than the fact that you’re about to graduate from college (something that only a little over half of the people in this country get the privilege of doing), they should just keep your degree and force you to work at a women’s shelter for the rest of your fucking life.

There are a few paragraphs about Ana’s nerves as she’s waiting for the ceremony to begin. She’s not nervous about accepting her degree and symbolically stepping into a new phase of her life, of course, she’s just nervous about seeing Christian Grey. Then, he appears:

Christian stands out in his bespoke gray suit, copper highlights glinting in his hair under the auditorium lights. He looks so serious and self-contained. As he sits, he undoes his single-breasted jacket, and I glimpse his tie. Holy shit… That tie! I rub my wrists reflexively. I cannot take my eyes off him – his beauty as distracting as ever – and he’s wearing that tie, on purpose no doubt. I can feel my mouth press into a hard line. The audience sits down and the applause ceases.
 “Look at him!” One of the girls beside me breathes enthusiastically to her friend.
“He’s hot.”
I stiffen. I’m sure they’re not talking about Professor Collins.
“Must be Christian Grey.”
“Is he single?”
I bristle.
“I don’t think so,” I murmur.
“Oh.” Both girls look at me in surprise.
“I think he’s gay,” I mutter.

Ana’s obsession with gayness is immature and gross. She’s embarrassed to have asked him if he was gay in the first chapter, and her embarrassment continues through the first four, I believe. Now, she’s saying he’s gay to what? To weed out the competition? To make him seem foolish? It’s almost like “he’s gay” is, to Ana, the worst thing she could possibly say about someone. I don’t find that funny. Because I’m not in fourth grade.

As the Chancellor gets to his feet and kicks off the proceedings with his speech, I watch Christian subtly scanning the hall. I sink into my seat, hunching my shoulders, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I fail miserably as a second later his gray eyes find mine. He stares at me, his face impassive, completely inscrutable. I squirm uncomfortably, hypnotized by his glare as I feel a slow flush spread across my face. Unbidden, I recall my dream from his morning, and the muscles in my belly do the delectable clench thing. I inhale sharply. I can see the shadow of a smile cross his lips, but it’s fleeting. He briefly closes his eyes, and on opening them, resumes his indifferent expression.
Following a swift glance up at the Chancellor, he stares ahead, focusing on the WSUV emblem hung above he entrance. He doesn’t turn his eyes toward me again. The Chancellor drones on, and Christian still doesn’t look at me, he just stares fixedly ahead.
Why won’t he look at me? Perhaps he’s changed his mind?

Or maybe you’re staring at him, and it’s making him uncomfortable? I think everyone has had the experience of someone staring at them and trying desperately not to acknowledge that they’re being stared at. The very last thing you want to do is look at the starer when you’re the staree.

Her theme is What Next After College? Oh, what next indeed. Christian is watching Kate, his eyebrows slightly raised – in surprise, I think. Yes, it could have been Kate that went to interview him. And it could have been Kate that he was now making indecent proposals to. Beautiful Kate and beautiful Christian, together. I could be like the two girls beside me, admiring him from afar. I know Kate wouldn’t have given him the time of day.

Technically, Ana, you are like the two girls beside you, admiring him from afar. But let’s not pick nits, as I am so prone to do. We can’t get through even a little bit of Kate doing anything without being reminded how beautiful she is, in comparison to how utterly grotesque Ana is.

Christian gets up to give a speech about how his grant to the university is part of his goal in eradicating hunger world-wide. Because (and I know you didn’t see this coming) he knows what it’s like to go hungry. Ana begins to realize that maybe his entire life wasn’t as full of privilege as she’d imagined.

Ana waits through over four hundred students before she is called up to the stage, and when she does, Mr. Non-Disclosure Agreement decides to have a personal conversation right there:

“Congratulations, Miss Steele,” he says as he shakes my hand, squeezing it gently. I feel the charge of his flesh on mine. “Do you have a problem with your laptop?” I frown as he hands me my degree.
“No.”
Then you are ignoring my emails?”
“I only saw the mergers and acquisitions one.”
He looks quizzically at me.
“Later,” he says, and I have to move on because I’m holding up the line.

She had to sign a form letter saying she wasn’t going to tell anyone they were seeing each other or sleeping together or something, but he’s going to openly jaw with her about ignoring his emails on a stage in front of like, a thousand students and a stadium full of their associated family and friends. I don’t think Chedward actually knows what “discreet” means.

The ceremony takes another hour to conclude. It’s interminable. Finally, the Chancellor leads the faculty members off the stage to yet more rousing applause, preceded by Christian and Kate. Christian does not glance at me, even though I’m willing him to do it.
My inner goddess is not pleased.

“Thank you,” he says, and before she can reply, he takes my elbow and steers me into what looks like a men’s locker room. He checks to see if it’s empty, and then he locks the door. Holy shit, what does he have in mind?

and then he locks the door.

and then he locks the door.

and then he locks the door.

No! Unacceptable! But the fun continues:

“Why haven’t you emailed me? Or texted me back?” He glares I’m nonplussed.
“I haven’t looked at my computer today, or my phone.” Crap, has he been trying to call? 

Why hasn’t she emailed you or texted you back? I’m going to go out on a limb here; since we know she has no problem with your repeated threats to rape or imprison her, or your recent act of actually imprisoning her,  I’m going to guess that the reason she hasn’t called or texted is because she had her college graduation to worry about. There are other things going on in her life that are not focused on you, Chedward. And beyond that, didn’t she ask you for some fucking space? It’s been less than twenty-four hours, and you’ve sent multiple emails and texts?

Chedward goes on to explain that he’s been worried about her because her car isn’t safe. She tells him that it’s fine, because Jose services it for her, since it used to belong to his mother. Of course, when she mentions Jose, Chedward is displeased. I’m displeased, because this whole “I’m worried about your car” thing is a blatant rip-off from Twilight, (wasn’t Bella’s unsafe old truck once Jacob’s dad’s?) and yet, here we are.

Bonus point for you checking off items on your abusive relationship bingo card: Ana actually apologizes to him for making for him worry.

Christian demands an answer re: BDSM from Ana, saying that the waiting is making him “crazy”. I doubt that “crazy” is a shore he landed upon after only a few weeks of sailing, but justify your weirdness however you want, Christian. He wants an answer “by tomorrow”, because love is patient, etc. Because this book is set in a universe where behavior like this is totally normal and romantic, Ana does not say, “Then my answer is no, dick, unlock the door.” Instead, she agrees and tells him she needs to get back to her stepdad, because they have plans. Christian insinuates himself into those plans through blatant manipulation, because he wants to meet Ray:

“Your stepfather? I’d like to meet him.”
Oh no… why?
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Christian unlocks the door, his mouth in a grim line.
“Are you ashamed of me?”
“No!” It’s my turn to sound exasperated. “Introduce you to my dad as what? ‘This is the man who deflowered me and wants us to start a BDSM relationship’. You’re not wearing running shoes.”
Christian glares down at me, and then his lips twitch up in a smile. And in spite of the fact I’m mad at him, my face is unwillingly pulled into an answering grin.
“Just so you know, I can run quite fast. Just tell him I’m your friend, Anastasia.”

Ray hands me a glass of champagne or cheap fizzy wine, I suspect. It’s not chilled, and it tastes sweet. My thoughts turn to Christian… he won’t like this.

Ana has no control over the cost, the temperature, or the flavor of the wine served at her graduation, but here she is, worrying that Christian won’t like it. What happens if he doesn’t like it? What’s the consequence? That’s a rhetorical question, of course, because there shouldn’t be any consequences for things Ana cannot control.

Kate’s gorgeous, blonde brother, Jasper Ethan turns up, fresh from Europe to surprise Kate. Ethan has his arm around Ana’s waist when Christian approaches and looks “frosty”. I’m guessing that at some point in the meeting, Christian is going to realize that Ana’s dad has probably changed her diaper or given her a bath during her childhood, and then he’s going to punch him out.

“Hello, Ray,” Kate kisses Ray on both cheeks, making him blush. “Have you met Ana’s boyfriend? Christian Grey.”
Holy shit… Kate! Fuck! All the blood drains from my face.
“Mr. Steele, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Christian says smoothly, warmly, completely unflustered by Kate’s introduction. He holds out his hand, which, all credit to Ray, Ray takes, not showing a hint of the drop-dead surprise he’s just had thrust upon him.
Thank you very much, Katherine Kavanagh, I fume.

“And this is my brother, Ethan Kavanagh.” says Kate to Christian.
Christian turns his arctic glare on Ethan, who still has one arm around me.
“Mr. Kavanagh.”
They shake hands. Christian holds his hand out to me.
“Ana, baby,” he murmurs, and I nearly expire at the endearment.
I walk out of Ethan’s grasp, while Christian smiles icily at him, and I take my place at his side. Kate grins at me. She knows exactly what she’s doing, the vixen!

Kate isn’t doing anything. Christian is getting jealous on his own, because he’s a possessive, controlling, creepy, creepy guy. Yet Ana still interprets his “baby” as an endearment, despite the fact that he said it only to stake a claim.

Christian and Ray have a little conversation that turns to fishing, and Ana realizes that Christian is charming her father just the way he charmed her. She goes and talks to Kate’s parents, and then criticizes Kate for “outing” the relationship to Ray. Kate admits that she did it on purpose, because she thinks it will help Christian with his “commitment issues”. Kate is clearly as romantically immature as Ana is. Then, Ana delivers one of my favorite lines of the entire book:

“I’d better go rescue Ray or Christian. I don’t know which. You haven’t heard the last of this, Katherine Kavanagh!”

Ray goes to the bathroom, leaving Ana and Christian alone together… in a tent full of people. So, naturally, this is the perfect time for Mr. Secretive to have a super secret discussion about the BDSM contract. He wheedles her, saying, “You know it’s going to be good, don’t you, baby?”, which is, I’m pretty sure, how about 60% of all date rapes begin, and Ana confesses that her reluctance to sign the contract is because she wants more from the relationship. Christian again tells her that he doesn’t really know how to do the romance thing, and then Ana agrees to the contract.

Yup. Just like that.

Then Ray comes back from the bathroom, and he and Ana are going to leave to have lunch.

They shake hands. I feel sick. Ray has no idea how Christian intends to look after me.

Feeling sick is a pretty good sign that you’ve made the right choice, isn’t it?

Ana goes home and finds the missed calls, no messages from Christian, and another email sent the night before inquiring about her safety. She emails him back, and they make plans to see each other that night at her apartment. She takes the first edition books he bought her and wraps them up, putting another quote from Tess of the D’Urbervilles on it:

“I agree to the conditions, Angel; because you know best what my punishment ought to be; only – only – don’t make it more than I can bear!”

Voila. Instant abusive relationship, just add water.

As you may recall, if your memory is longer than a goldfish’s, I invited readers of this blog to submit their names for Christian Grey’s penis. Unfortunately, if you entered on Good Reads, your names weren’t included in the final consideration. When we went to GoodReads.com to survey your submissions there, all of those comments were GONE. Not even like, just a few were missing, ALL of them were missing. Like no one had ever commented on the post, and I know that wasn’t what went down, because I checked over there before. Now that I know GoodReads to be as inconstant as that famous whore, the moon, henceforth all contest entries will have to be given here, rather than there, and I apologize to those of you who had great names that got eaten up by internet goblins.

However, we do have a winner, three winners, to be exact, and the honorable mentions that round out our top ten.

So, without further ado, the winner of

• Your choice of two titles from The Raven Books, graciously donated by Michelle M. Pillow and Mandy M. Roth!
• One digital title from Leigh Ellewood’s backlist!
• The Succubus Gift by BR Kingsolver!
• Long Relief and Wolf’s Honor by Abigail Barnette
• One digital title from Bronwyn Green’s backlist!
• Put Out The Zombie, by Billy London

The candles had burned low before Philipe came to her. She had dozed, but the sound of his footsteps, that sound she had anticipated with both dread and delight, woke her from her slumber. She sat up, sleepily clutching the bedclothes to herself. He halted at the door. For a moment, she thought he might turn away, that the sight of her, horrible and ugly in the candlelight had made him realize what a foolish mistake he’d made.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I suddenly realized that I have waited fifteen years for this night, without ever dreaming it might come.”

It was you. She was always you. His words, already scored into her mind through hopeful repetition, erased the last of her fears of rejection and humiliation. Fifteen years of loneliness had vanished, leaving behind only a clawing need. She wanted Philipe, as she had wanted him all those years ago, but had never been brave enough to have him. She was braver, now.

He sat on the bed to pull off his boots, and she wanted badly to touch him, to rise on her knees behind him and press her body against his, to run her fingers through his hair as he untied his laces. But she could not make herself move. It was fear of the unknown, and she supposed it was something every bride faced on her wedding night, so she did not chide herself for being silly.

Kicking aside his boots, he pulled off his rough spun tunic and pushed down his breeches and then she saw, as he climbed beneath the blankets beside her, the desire he could not fake. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked away.

“Blushing like a maiden,” he chided, his naked thigh brushing against her bed-warmed skin.

“I am a maiden,” she reminded him. “Time changes much, but not that.”

“No, but I’ll change it.” He drew her down, to lie in his arms. Johanna remembered the heady thrill of his bare skin, but his body was so different now than it had been when they’d been young. He’d been soft and hairless as a babe, now every muscle was hard and a dusting of hair shadowed his chest. There was a touch of gray in it, as in his beard, and she covered her mouth with her hands to stifle her laughter.

“What?” he laughed with her, looking down at himself. “I haven’t gotten fat from your fine northern cooking, have I?”

It took only the touch of his lips on hers to silence the laughter in her throat. It was too serious, his arms around her, his skin hot against hers in the cold of the tower room, and too bright and real. His kisses turned to soft bites, down her jaw, to her throat, her collarbones. His fingers trailed over her back, and she felt the pressure of them, if nothing else. It was enough. Her cleft grew slick and hot. She remembered that too, that feeling of aching incompleteness. If she had given in to him then, what would her life be like now?

It seemed churlish to sully the moment with regret. The world, already spinning, seemed to cant even more as his mouth roved over her breasts. He cupped one in his palm, a broken groan spilling from his lips before they closed over her nipple. She moaned at the feeling, familiar and strange, just as every time he had touched her in the past. Her head reeled, and she looked about the room, the oddest feeling of displacement coming over her. It was her bed, she slept in it every night, but it seemed a foreign landscape with him in it.

“Relax,” he murmured, raising his head and circling with one finger the wet flesh his mouth left untended.“This doesn’t seem real,” she confessed.

He stroked the backs of his fingers along the side of her breast, down her ribs, and she shivered. “Do you remember the night I came to you here? When I bribed someone to distract your nurse, so I could come inside and bar the door?”

She blushed hot at the memory. “Of course I remember. It was the night before you left.”

Gently, he urged her to turn over, so that she lay with her back against his chest, just as that night when he’d surprised her by kissing her awake in her very bed. He did not shudder or flinch away when his skin touched the mass of scars on her back. He kissed her shoulder, then her neck, and whispered, “Pretend it is still that night. Do you remember what we did?”

His arm draped over her waist, he slid his hand over her stomach, down to the curls between her thighs. She held her breath as one fingertip probed the crevice there, then slipped between her folds. The contrasts of her own flesh shocked her, the dry, soft skin and hair of her mound, the smooth, slick mouth of her cleft, strangely like her scars in that respect. She buried her face in the pillow, because she couldn’t bear the sudden shyness. He rolled his fingertip over the pearl there, his breath calm and even while hers sounded thin and frightened to her own ears.

“That’s better,” he said, nipping at her shoulder. “Now show me how.”

Uncertain, she brought her hand down to join his. Though he’d done a fine job on his own fifteen years ago, she guided him to just the right place, pushed with just enough pressure. His manhood pressed against her backside, and he ground against her as she rocked her hips in time with the stroking of his finger. Closing her eyes, she gave over to the sensations that had not changed, despite the scars, despite the years. She groped behind her, between them, to close her fingers over his hard, rigid flesh. She hadn’t been so bold the last time, but now she’d need no coaxing to touch him. His mouth was on her everywhere, sucking at the back of her neck, down her shoulder, all the while his fingers working over her aching flesh, until her body tightened and her breath rasped from her throat, eager at the promise of release. He stopped, only for a second, to take up the work with his thumb, and slid one finger inside of her untried cunny. She gasped at the intrusion, and the way he curled that finger, stroking along her walls deftly. Though she remembered feeling a loss of control before, she’d never felt the desire to yield to it the way she did now. Her entire being focused on one desire, to climax as he held her sex in his hand and buried his mouth against her neck. When she did, it was with a ragged cry, almost of surprise, and she felt the heat and the wet intensify tenfold.

He brushed aside the fingers that gripped his cock and rose above her, settling between her legs, limp and splayed in the aftermath of her pleasure. The gentle slide of his fingertips over and in her flesh had drawn a new, desperate awareness from her. She lifted her eyes to his, saw the care and the passion in them. He really did want her, no matter her appearance. And then she knew, with a joy so keen that her heart felt as though it might never beat again, that when he looked at her, he did not see the monstrous scars and the youth lost. He saw the beautiful girl he had loved, perhaps had never stopped loving, all those long years ago.

She did not look away from him as he guided himself to her. She lifted her hips, rubbing against him, coating him in her wetness. When he slipped inside, she took a sharp breath at the suddenness of it. One moment, they stood on the edge of the familiar, and then they’d stepped off, easy as breathing.

Thank you, everyone, for your entries into the “Name Chedward’s Penis” contest! Comments are now closed here, but I can’t close them at goodreads.com. So, any comments at Good Reads suggesting penis names will be scrutinized for the appropriate time stamps.

The winners will be announced on Monday. May the best weenis win.

As you may recall, in chapter nine or ten or whatever, I don’t really care anymore, Christian Grey waves his dinghy in Ana’s face and tells her to be on a first name basis with his throbbing love shaft. But then he never tells her what its name is. In fact, I’ve read the whole book and I don’t remember him ever telling her what he named his penis. How is a girl supposed to be on a first name basis with it if you don’t even introduce them properly?

Kel over at Coffee and Prozac sent me some very interesting .pdfs. These documents put a fine point on everything that bothers me about the popularity of 50 Shades (okay, not everything… they don’t cover the blatant plagiarism everyone seems to be giving a pass). They were hand outs that would help a person determine if they are in a relationship with an abuser, or if someone has the potential to be an abuser.

Now, when the publicity first started snowballing out of control for this book, Dr. Drew took a lot of heat by saying that 50 Shades was “actual violence against women.” He then went on to state that people who are abused as kids are into BDSM, which sent any validity in that first statement straight down the toilet. One thing he did have right was 50 Shades of Grey‘s glorification of abusive relationships. Unfortunately, because of the size of the ass he showed to Romancelandia, you can barely bring up the abuse components of Ana and Christian’s relationship without someone shouting over you that BDSM is not abuse, and you’re a small-minded person if you conflate the two. Hardly anyone will enter into a discussion of the abusive relationship in this book without the focus shifting to the characters’ sex lives. So, you know, thanks, Dr. Drew. You just made this discussion a fucking minefield.

BDSM is not abuse. I have never, nor would I ever, claim that safe, consensual BDSM is abuse. But these handouts Kel sent me really help pinpoint what is so wrong with the relationship that is the plot of 50 Shades, without confusing spankings with beating. Let’s go through one of them, point by point, shall we?

The following “red flags” are from a hand out entitled “Universal Red Flags” taken from a book called How To Spot A Dangerous Man. The instructions read: “Check all the following that apply even if only remotely”. Let me share the ones I checked on Ana’s behalf:

You feel uncomfortable about something he has said or done, and the feeling remains. I don’t think we need to cite any one particular incident where Ana has been made uncomfortable by Christian Grey. This is prevalent throughout the book.

You wish he would go away, you want to cry, and you want to run away from him. Ana often thinks about how she can “escape” Christian, how she needs to find an exit, how she can’t handle being around him because she can’t trust herself to think clearly. In just the portion of the book we’ve reviewed so far, Ana has ended three of her encounters with Christian as a sobbing mess.

You have the urge to “love him into emotional wellness,” if that were possible. Again, based on the chapters we’ve reviewed here so far, Ana does seem to believe that she can change him, or that he has psychological wounds that need to be healed.

You feel bad about yourself when you are around him. One of the clearest indicators, to me, anyway, that there is a power imbalance in their relationship is the fact that Ana constantly compares herself – how she looks, how she acts, how she’s dressed – to Christian and his very wealthy lifestyle, and she always finds herself lacking. She often wonders why he’s interested in her.

You only feel good about yourself when you are with him. Conversely, Ana doesn’t have a nice word to say about herself unless it is confirmed by Christian. When her roommate tells her that she’s pretty, Ana interprets it as a patronizing compliment Kate can’t possibly mean, but when Christian Grey calls Ana beautiful, she suddenly believes that she is. In fact, the only time she believes anything good about herself is when it’s Christian pointing it out.

You feel that he wants too much from you. I think this one requires very little explanation. Not only does he want more than she wishes to give, he constantly pressures her to give him what he wants.

You are emotionally tired from him; you feel he “sucks the life out of you.“ Now, Ana never says, “he sucks the life out of me.” But again, even if we just look at the first half of this book, she’s doing a lot of crying herself to sleep, needing to get away from him because he’s too intense, etc.

Your value system and his are very different, and it’s problematic. I have this phrase I trot out from time to time with my friends who are dating: If you have to “work on” the relationship within the first month, it’s not going to work out. Sometimes, people are simply incompatible. Ana and Christian have spent most of their relationship with Ana trying to find ways around giving Christian what he wants, and Christian refusing to bend on his expectations. This is not going to clear up in a few more dates.

Your past and his are very different, and the two of you have conflicts over it. Spoiler alert, Christian is obsessive and controlling about food because he went hungry as a child. I know we haven’t gotten to that part of the book in the review yet, but it fits in here. And that’s just one of the ways their pasts differ in problematic ways. While Ana sees his earlier relationship with a much older woman as statutory rape, Christian believes that it was appropriate and has a continuing friendship with the woman, which makes Ana uncomfortable. Ana doesn’t even want the type of relationship Christian is after, they both are aware of this fact, and he continues to pursue her.

You tell your friends you are “unsure about the relationship” Ana has already had this conversation with Kate in the part we’ve reviewed.

You feel isolated from other relationships with friends and family. Ana doesn’t just feel isolated, she is isolated, by the nondisclosure agreement Christian asked her to sign. She finds herself living a double life in order to please Christian and still maintain her relationships with her loved ones.

You feel in the wrong because he is always right and goes to great lengths to show you he is right. This was most obviously displayed in chapter fourteen, where Christian responds to all of Ana’s concerns and questions with long explanations that dance around actual answers.

You are uncomfortable because he continually says he knows what is best for you. He isn’t pressuring her into signing a contract that allows him to act out his sexual fantasies on her for him. It’s all about her, and her happiness. He just wants what’s best for her, just like when he showed up at the bar when she asked him not to, and his concerns about her car.

You notice he needs you too frequently, too much, or too intensely. Christian goes so far as to say that he wants her too much, or that he can’t control himself in her presence because of the intensity of his passion for her.

You notice he quickly discloses information about his past or present or his emotional pain. After they go out for coffee, their first encounter that is not tied to the interview, he warns her off from him with cryptic, tortured statements like, “I’m not the man for you.”

You sense he is pushing too quickly for an emotional connection with you. Okay, this one, Ana wouldn’t check off, but I would. From an outside observer standpoint, Christian is running a very good game of  “pull her in, push her away,” which is forcing an emotional connection with Ana. After having coffee with the guy once, she’s on the floor of a parking garage sobbing. This isn’t just Ana being emotionally immature, it’s Ana being emotionally manipulated by Christian.

You find yourself accepting him “for now” even though you have plenty of red flags that would help you to terminate the relationship if you paid attention to them. Ana is already aware that what she wants from the relationship and what Christian wants are two vastly different, completely incompatible things, but she commits to the relationship despite knowing it has no hope of a future.

These weren’t all the entries on the list, but some of the questions regarding previous children or substance abuse obviously don’t apply to Mr. Grey. Looking over what we have here, is this a healthy relationship? Can we even consider this to be a romance novel, with all of these elements in place?

However, we’ve seen ample evidence of women saying they would prefer their husbands to behave more like Christian Grey. Others say that obviously, they wouldn’t want Christian Grey in real life, but it’s the fantasy they’re enjoying. What fantasy? I fully support fantasizing about a man who takes control in the bedroom. I cannot, for the life of me, understand how it would be enjoyable to fantasize about a man who takes control in all aspects of your life. And remember, I’m not talking about just a BDSM lifestyle here. I’m talking about the measures Christian takes to control Ana’s life before they even enter into a relationship together.

The more I think about it, the more I am depressed by the message of this book, a message that so many women have embraced as a romantic ideal. While in the end, Ana does not stay with Christian (spoiler alert), there are two more books in the series. I do not have enough faith that those books will rectify the glorification of emotional-abuse-as-love in the first book enough to read them. The more I delve into this book, the more disturbing I find it, and its popularity.

You may have noticed that the recaps have become fewer in the past two weeks. This is not because I am bowing to pressure or discontinuing them. I just need to maintain a balance between talking about 50 Shades and talking about other things. This is, after all, my author blog and not a blog about 50 Shades of Grey exclusively. The recaps will still go up, just not the five a week that I started with. That way, I will have time to concentrate on what I really want to blog about. INTERPRETIVE MOVEMENT!

I know what you’re thinking. “What, no 50 Shades recap? THIS IS HORSESHIT!” and then you probably threw your coffee in someone’s face. You need to get your anger issues in check, yo.

No, there is no recap today, because I am meeting with my mentee, or manatee, in any case, the pre-published writer I mentor.

I’m pretty sure when people think, “responsible career mentor,” they think something like…

• Locked her in my basement and refused to let her out until she wrote five hundred words.
• Threatened to hit her with a lead pipe if she didn’t meet her weekly goal.
• Told her that I would break into her house while she was sleeping, climb astride her sleeping body, lean over her face and slowly apply lipstick in ever widening circles to my own mouth while staring at a point somewhere just above her head.
• E has a desk in my office. When she started to slack off on her goals, I started piling shit on her desk. Just random stuff, like crafting supplies and papier mache projects I was working on.
• Threatened to run her over with a car.
• Remember the thing with the lipstick? That, but instead of lipstick, I was going to look her in the eye and slowly draw a razor blade over the surface of my own eyeball.

Look, I do this for you out of the goodness of my heart. Out of the goodness of your heart (and the survivor guilt you’re going to feel when you realize I threw my body on the grenade of chapter thirteen for you, all for you!), check out my interview at The Qwillery.

Chapter thirteen begins like this:

The following day, I call my mom when I’m home from work. It’s been a relatively peaceful day at the Clayton’s, allowing me far too much time to think. I’m restless, nervous about my showdown with Mr. Control Freak tomorrow, and at the back of my mind, I’m worried that perhaps I’ve been too negative in my response to the contract. Perhaps he’ll call the whole thing off.

So, right away, I’ve got good feelings about how this chapter is going to go down. After all her angst in the last chapter and her unwillingness to sign the contract, Ana is now worried that she’s blown her chance to enter into a relationship with Christian solely on his terms (the only choice she has besides cat ladydom).

Ana’s mom is “oozing contrition” about missing her daughter’s college graduation. Her boyfriend Bob twisted a ligament, so they can’t travel. Bob could probably get some crutches and still manage to be there, but I recognize this tactic. It’s “keep the parents out of the picture so I don’t have to write about them.” It’s why all my characters are orphans. I’ll cop to that one. I do not like writing about relationships with parents and children (okay, I have written a few books with parents in). I recognize this lazy writing, as I am nothing if not lazy, and we can smell our own. I think if E.L. James was going to go this route, though, she needed to make it something a little more dramatic, but not necessary life threatening. Instead of a sprained ankle, why not a broken femur? Or gall bladder surgery? It seems like a pretty weak excuse, for missing your only daughter’s college graduation.

When Ana checks her email, Christian has responded to her list of concerns with a pithy remark about the definition of “submissive”, as well as the definition itself. Ana replies with the definition of “compromise”, because she’s still holding out hope that she can have her naive fairy tale romance she’s imagined. They fight over whether or not he’s picking her up or she’s driving.

He’s even grumpy by email. Doesn’t he understand that I may need to make a quick get-away? Not that my Beetle is quick… but still – I need a means of escape.

This is a sign that your date is going to go well. When you’re planning it like a bank robbery.

 I call Ray, who is just about to watch the Sounders play some soccer team from Salt Lake City, so our conversation is mercifully brief. He’s driving down on Thursday for graduation. He wants to take me out afterward for a meal. My heart swells talking to Ray, and a huge lump knots in my throat. He has bee my constant through all mom’s romantic ups and downs. We have a special bond that I treasure. Even though he’s my stepdad, he’s always treated me as his own, and I can’t wait to see him. It’s bee too long. His quiet fortitude is what I need now, what I miss. Maybe I can channel my inner Ray for my meeting tomorrow.

See, he’s nothing like Charlie! I mean, besides the quiet fortitude and the fact that he’s constant where Bella’s mom, sorry, Ana’s mom, is flaky and undependable. Oh, and he likes sports. But Bella didn’t feel this way about Charlie in the first book of her series, so Ana feeling this way about Ray in the first book of her series means it’s totally fair game. And wait, Ana has an inner Ray? Isn’t it getting kind of crowded in her head, what with her inner goddess, her very conscious subconscious, and now her inner Ray? I knew I wasted that Herman’s Head joke when I used it in the chapter ten recap. A bonus to her inner Ray going on her date with her is that I’m now imagining Charlie Swann in a relationship with Edward Cullen.

Just to make your lives complete, I have ventured into the Pit of Voles (also known as Fanfiction.net) to make my dreams real for you lucky people. Here was my favorite Charlie/Edward slash I found over there. Fast Lane, by HotHearts18. You will probably not be shocked to learn that it’s much better than 50 Shades.

Kate and Ana keep packing up their apartment and drinking wine, because these bitches need AA. Seriously, every single scene, every goddamned one, they’re drinking wine. If Ana had taken a water bottle on her jog, I’d be pretty convinced it was full of gin.

Kate has lent me two dresses and two pairs of shoes for tonight and graduation tomorrow. I wish I could feel more enthused about clothes and make an extra effort, but clothes are just not my thing.

Damn that Kate, always doing nice things for Ana. Remember how Ana doesn’t want to make an extra effort? And remember how she won’t do anything she doesn’t want to do?:

I shower, shave my legs and underarms, wash my hair, and then spend a good half-hour drying it so that it falls in soft waves to my breasts and down my back. I slip a comb in to keep one side off my face and apply mascara and some lip-gloss. I rarely wear make-up – it intimidates me. None of my literary heroines had to deal with make-up – maybe I’d know more about it if they had. I slip on the plum-colored stilettos that match the dress, and I’m ready by six-thirty.

What about signing sex contracts, Ana? Did your literary heroines do that? Also, stilettos? I think you’re structurally unstable enough in flats, sweetie. Kate tells Ana she looks hot, and Ana complains that she wasn’t going for hot, she was going for demure and business-like. Because nothing says “demure” like stilettos. Kate keeps flattering Ana for a few lines, and Ana accepts her compliments with grace. HA! No, she gets annoyed and leaves for her date. When she gets to the bar, Christian is just so impossibly beautiful that she can’t even give much thought (beyond a fleeting acknowledgement of her clumsiness) to how hideously grotesque she believes she is. Christian orders her some wine, even though she just got her one hour sober chip. They both confess to being nervous, although Christian is pretty cool and smooth for someone who’s supposedly nervous. Christian acknowledges that the contract is legally unenforceable. He’s obviously been reading the comments you guys have been leaving:

“You know this contract is legally unenforceable.”
“I am fully aware of that, Miss Steele.”
“Were you going to tell me that at any point?”
He frowns at me.
“You’d think I’d coerce you into something you don’t want to do, and then pretend that I have a legal hold over you?”

Well, you made her sign what seems to me to be a legally enforceable non-disclosure agreement (anyone want to confirm or debunk my suspicions in the comments again?), you made a big deal about needing her signature, the whole thing is written in pseudo-legalese, and you never once told her that it wasn’t a legal document, she had to find that out for herself. So yes, Christian. That is exactly what you were doing, you creepy, creepy rapist. He dances around that point with a lot of bullshit about trust:

“Anastasia, it doesn’t matter if it’s legal or not. It represents an arrangement that I would like to make with you – what I would like from you and what you can expect from me. If you don’t like it, then don’t sign. If you do sign, and then decide you don’t like it, there are enough get-out clauses so you can walk away. Even if it were legally binding, do you think I’d drag you through the courts if you did decide to run?” I take a long draft of my wine. My subconscious taps me hard on the shoulder. You must keep your wits about you. Don’t drink too much.  

You know what the biggest “get-out” clause is? THE FACT THAT IT ISN’T LEGALLY ENFORCEABLE, DICKHEAD. He’s still trying to make it sound official, like his cock is so fucking important, it needs insurance forms. Every time he opens his mouth in this scene, I hate him more:

 “Relationships like this are built on honesty and trust,” he continues. “If you don’t trust me – trust me to know how I’m affecting you, how far I can go with you, how far I can take you – if you can’t be honest with me, then we really can’t do this.” Oh my, we’ve cut to the chase quickly. How far he can take me. Holy shit. What does that mean?

Okay, Chedward, let’s talk about trust. Trust means not making a girl you have sex with sign a form saying she won’t tell anybody. Trust means having an open communication with another person about what you want from the relationship, not handing her a stack of forms and a laptop and hoping she comes over to your side as a result. Trust means not swooping down on someone when they’re out with their friends because you’re afraid they’re going to make a choice you don’t approve of. In fact, up until this point, Chedward, you have done nothing to build Ana’s trust in you, other than demand it before you tie her up and spit in her mouth. And it certainly is not built by pressuring a young woman to enter into BDSM as a full-time lifestyle when she hasn’t even had the opportunity to experiment with it in a lighter capacity.

Because he’s a creepy dick, Christian demands to know whether Ana trusts him or not. She doesn’t answer, but asks him if he had this conversation with the last fifteen subs he’s had. He tells her that since they were experience submissives, he didn’t need to, because they knew what he expected and what they expected to get out of the relationship. So, he didn’t need to earn the trust of experienced subs? Is that what he’s saying? He doesn’t want to talk about his past subs (probably because they’re all dead in a landfill somewhere), and says they should get down to the little details of the contract, or, as he puts it, “Your issues,” because yeah, Ana is the only person with issues here.

I swallow. Do I trust him? Is that what this all comes down to – trust? Surely that should be a two-way thing. I remember his snit when I phoned Jose.

No, he had a snit when Jose called you. That’s a pretty important difference. But we abandon that line of rational thinking so they can fight over what and when Ana has eaten that day.

“You have to eat, Anastasia. We can eat down here or in my suite. What would you prefer?”
“I think we should stay in public, on neutral ground.” He smiles sardonically.
“Do you think that would stop me?” he says softly, a sensual warning.
My eyes widen, and I swallow again.
“I hope so.”
“Come, I have a private dining room booked. No public.” He smiles at me enigmatically and climbs out of the booth, holding his hand out to me.

Excuse the ever-living fuck out of me? I don’t know what’s making me angrier, the fact that he basically just openly threatened rape and then denied her request to stay in a safe public place, or the fact that E.L. James keeps tagging one character’s dialogue with another character’s actions. A waiter shows them to the private rapetorium that Christian has reserved:

We follow him through a plush seating area to an intimate dining room. Just one secluded table. The room is small but sumptuous. Beneath a shimmering chandelier, the table is all starched linen, crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and white rose bouquet. An old-world, sophisticated charm pervades the wood-paneled room. The waiter pulls out my chair, and I sit. He places my napkin in my lap. Christian sits opposite me. I peek up at him. “Don’t bite your lip,” he whispers.

Or else you’ll rape her, Chedward? He’s already ordered their dinner. They start to get their contract on, and Ana has to “steel” herself again. I was missing that particular pun for the last few chapters, actually. They get to the clause about STDs, and Christian has this to say:

“My sexual health. Well, all of my previous partners have had blood tests, and I have regular tests every six months for all the health risks you mention. All my recent tests are clear. I have never taken drugs. In fact, I’m vehemently anti-drugs. I have a strict no-tolerance policy with regards to drugs for all my employees, and I insist on random drug testing.

Wow… control freakery gone mad. I blink at him shocked.

No, Ana, this isn’t the mark of a control freak. This is shit that pretty much all sexually active adults and/or business owners should be concerned with. If you agree to randomly drug test your employees, your insurance ends up a lot cheaper, because you’re not going to be paying for claims when your forklift driver comes to the warehouse all hopped up on PCP and hurts himself or someone else or your property. This is just common sense, Ana.

He’s still a creepy potential rapist, though.

Christian tells her that she can walk away from the contract at any time, but once she does, that’s it, they are completely over. It’s nice when two people with absolutely no middle ground can find something they have in common, even if it’s that aforementioned lack of middle ground. Their first course arrives:

“I hope you like oysters,” Christian’s voice is soft.

I hope so, too, because otherwise I’m going to have to read about the fight they have when she doesn’t want to eat them, and be annoyed when she finally does eat them just because he wants her to. Luckily, she likes them and we are all mercifully spared. There is some innuendo re: oysters, nothing you probably couldn’t find in an early ’90’s straight-to-video erotic thriller, and then Christian admits that he did once hurt a submissive by accidentally tying her too tightly in rope play. That’s actually a really realistic injury, so good job, E.L.. I was afraid it was going to be like, “I lost control and beat her too much,” but rope injury is so much more likely. He won’t agree to just one month of the contract, he wants her to try for three, and he doesn’t want her to have a weekend a month off. Instead, he’s willing to give her a day every weekend, so long as she makes it up midweek. This is fine by me, because I’m not really interested in reading about her going to work or whatever she does during the time that she’s not with Christian. Being alone with Ana and her headful of people is not something I want to do for a week at a time between sex appointments. He explains that when she comes into his house as his submissive, he’s going to literally do whatever he wants to her, and she’s going to have to put up with it, but he assures her that he’s going to earn her trust. How, Chedward? By just asking for it?

“Discipline. There’s a very fine line between pleasure and pain Anastasia. They are two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other. I can show you how pleasurable pain can be. You don’t believe me now, but this is what I mean about trust. There will be pain, but nothing that you can’t handle. Again, it comes down to trust. Do you trust me, Ana?”
Ana!
“Yes, I do.” I respond spontaneously, not thinking… because it’s true – I do trust him.

No! He earns her trust by using her first name! Of course! It all falls into place now! That’s clearly enough to make a sane woman throw aside all her misgivings! Problem solved, none of this is wrong from an objective standpoint anymore! I’m so glad that got taken care of!

“And right now, I want to peel you out of that dress.” I swallow. Peel me out of Kate’s dress. I feel the pull deep in my belly. Muscles that I’m now more acquainted with clench at his words. But I can’t have this. His most potent weapon, used against me again. He’s so good at sex – even I’ve figured this out.

So, Ana is completely aware that he’s using sex to manipulate her, and she’s still sitting there. He openly admits to using sex to control her, like it’s no big thing, because whether or not he’s manipulating her, “Doesn’t change how much I want you.” Well, so long as you’re still happy.

“If you were my sub, you wouldn’t have to think about this. It would be easy.” His voice is soft, seductive. “All those decisions – all the wearying thought processes behind them. The – is this this right thing to do? Should this happen here? Can it happen now? You wouldn’t have to worry about any of that detail. That’s what I’d do as your Dom. And right now, I know you want me, Anastasia.”

This is easily the most insulting thing I’ve ever seen a hero say to a heroine in a romance novel. She has had no problem at all saying yes to anything he’s wanted sexually so far, and she’s thought about all those choices. Yes, there is freedom and excitement in the unquestioning obedience of sexual submission, but Ana doesn’t know that yet. She’s coming to you with very real concerns and you’re basically telling her, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about what you want.”

Next, Christian tells Ana that he knows she’s aroused because, and you’re not going to believe this one, he felt the tablecloth move and he knows from years of experience that it’s because she’s clenching her thighs. Does Christian Grey work for the CIA? Because he tracked her cell phone, and now he’s reading body language via tablecloth. Then we get a really telling paragraph from Ana:

I flush and stare down at my hands. That’s what I’m hindered by in this game of seduction. He’s the only one who knows and understands the rules. I’m just too naive and inexperienced. My only sphere of reference is Kate, and she doesn’t take any shit from men. My other references are all fictional: Elizabeth Bennett would be outraged, Jane Eyre too frightened, and Tess would succumb, just as I have.

This is another one of those flashing neon “she cannot give informed consent” signs I’ve been talking about for many, many chapters now. She is not in a position where she can confidently say, “This is what I want out of this experience,” because she has no frame of reference. And I have to say, I think Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy might be into a little D/s play behind closed doors. But that’s another issue entirely. Someone has probably written a fucking terrible sequel about it already, anyway. It’s probably called, “Darcy’s Peculiar Proclivity” or something fucking awful that will make me want to burn the author’s house down. Please, no one leave recs for this book in the comments, I don’t have that many matches left.

Then, basically the scene from Flashdance where Alex eats the shrimp all sexy happens, but with asparagus.

“I could make you stay,” he threatens.
“Yes, you could easily, but I don’t want you to.”
He runs his hands though his hair, regarding me carefully.
“You know, when you fell into my office to interview me, you were all yes sir, no sir. I thought you were a natural born submissive. But quite frankly, Anastasia, I’m not sure you have a submissive bone in your delectable body.”

Again with the Prince Charming routine. No, you could not making Ana stay with you against your will. There’s this crazy thing called “the law” and they frown on stuff like forcing people to bend to your will against theirs, contract or not. I’m guessing the restaurant doesn’t want that kind of publicity: “Let’s try that place where the girl was wrongfully imprisoned!” No one has ever said that about a restaurant in the history of the entire world. So, Christian basically thought that since she was clumsy and nervous, he’d be able to exploit that as his sex fantasy. Again, women across America are resenting their husbands for NOT ACTING THIS WAY.

He leans down to kiss me, but pauses before his lips touch mine, his eyes searching mine, wanting, asking permission. I raise my lips to his, and he kisses me and because I don’t know if I’ll ever kiss him again, I let go – my hands moving of their own accord and twisting into his hair, pulling him to me, my mouth opening, my tongue stroking his. His hand grasps the nape of my neck as he deepens the kiss, responding to my ardor. His other hand slides own my back and flattens at the base of my spine as he pushes me against his body. “I can’t persuade you to stay?” he breathes between kisses.

See how he does that? She says no, he thinks, “I’ll overcome her silly objections to what I want with ravishing kisses. No damsel could dare refuse me!” He is openly manipulating her, and we all know she’s going to keep falling for it. Not just because I’ve already read the book, either. Because this is the way Ana believes the world should work. She should be pursued, like the heroine of a classic novel, and in classic novels, those heroines had very little say in how their lives would turn out. There is a reason Ana is obsessed with classic literature. It’s all pre-sexual revolution. Ana wants to believe that she’s helpless and unable to refuse the broodingly handsome hero, because then she won’t have to think for herself. She’s already mastered the art of letting everyone else steer her course through daily events, she just has to figure out how to make this whole thing with Christian seem like it’s on her terms. That way, she can keep believing that she’s strong and independent, without ever having to be either of those things.

“I’ll escort you to the lobby.” He holds out his hand. Leaning down, I grab my purse and place my hand in his. Holy crap, this could be it. I follow him meekly down the grand stairs and into the lobby, my scalp prickling, my blood pumping. This could be the last goodbye if I decide to say no.
My heart contracts painfully in my chest. What a turnaround. What a difference a moment of clarity can make to a girl.

 That’s it, right there. Ana isn’t giving up all her aspirations for romantic love. She’s having a moment of clarity. A moment of clarity that doesn’t send her straight to the nearest weekly meeting, no matter how much she needs it. Christian makes a bunch of weak attempts to keep her from leaving, like giving her his jacket (so she’ll have to see him again, I presume), to arguing that her car doesn’t look safe (maybe she should spend the night with him after all?). To her credit, Ana resists all of these and balks at his suggestion that he buy her a car, but of course, he’s going to do whatever he wants to do. Contract or no, he owns Ana, because he believes that he is entitled to every woman he wants. This is rape culture, folks. This book is rape culture, distilled to it’s most potent form.

Ana drives back home bawling her eyes out, wondering if she decides to do this, will he be her boyfriend and do normal boyfriend things like meeting her friends and, you know, letting her touch him?

What if I do say yes, and in three month’s time he says no, he’s had enough of trying to mold me into something I’m not. How will I feel? I’ll have emotionally invested three months, doing things that I’m not sure I want to do. And if he says no, agreement over, how could I cope with that level of rejection? Perhaps it’s best to back away now with what self-esteem I have reasonably intact.

I would say you just gave yourself your answer there, Ana. Luckily, Kate isn’t home to stop Ana from talking herself out of her good decision. What is at home is the computer, and an email from Christian, that he has clearly sent while Ana drove the five miles home. She asks for space, and he can’t wait ten minutes before contacting her to guilt trip her about not fucking him.

I don’t understand why you ran this evening. I sincerely hope I answered all your questions to your satisfaction. I know I have given you a great deal to contemplate, and I fervently hope that you will give my proposal your serious consideration. I really want to make this work. We will take it slow.

Trust me.

Wow, you clearly don’t understand the concept of trust, Chedward. You couldn’t trust her to spend a few minutes out from under your manipulative thumb, you had to fire off that email before she was out of the parking lot. “[…]Answered all your questions to your satisfaction.” Really? You were evasive and gave very cryptic answers to everything she asked, leaving her more confused than when she got there.

Ana puts on her pajamas and Christian’s jacket, which I’m telling you right now is absolutely a worse look than any pink pjs Kate might dig up:

As I lie staring into the darkness, I think of all the times he warned me to stay away.
‘Anastasia, you should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you.’
‘I don’t do the girlfriend thing.’
‘I’m not a hearts and flowers kind of guy.’
‘I don’t make love.’
‘This is all I know.’
And as I weep into my pillow silently, it’s this last idea I cling to. This is all I know, too. Perhaps together we can chart a new course.

After a night of obvious, unashamed emotional manipulation, after a threat to rape her in the middle of a restaurant, after a threat to force her to stay with him against her will, after an email that blatantly disrespects her request for space, Ana has come to a solution. A brilliant, elegantly simple solution, one that has been staring her in the face this whole time.

So, there’s chapter thirteen. May God help us all.

Quite frankly, I have a mind to run to the Heathman hotel and just demand sex from the control freak. But that’s five miles, and I don’t think I’ll be able to run one mile, let alone five, and of course, he might turn me down which would be beyond humiliating.

Oh, he would definitely turn you down, Ana, because you were coming to him on something other than his terms. You shouldn’t be running as in “out for a jog,” you should be running as in, “far away from this creepy dude.” She balked at the idea of exercising when it was mentioned in the contract, but she’s still doing it. She’s still doing exactly what Christian Grey wants, because his emotional manipulation has driven her to it.

I pace through the park. What am I going to do? I want him, but on his terms? I just don’t know. Perhaps I should negotiation what I want. Go through that ridiculous contract line by line and say what is acceptable and what isn’t. My research has told me that legally it’s unenforceable. He must know that. I figure that it just sets up the parameters of the relationship. It illustrates what I can expect from him and what he expects from me – my total submission. Am I prepared to give him that? Am I even capable?

Several smarty-pants commenters called this one: a contract like the one Grey has drawn up would not be enforceable. Ana figures it’s just for laying out “the parameters.” You know how people usually lay out the parameters and what to expect? By dating. By dating, like normal adults. Talking, getting to know one another, before the whole, “commit to a BDSM lifestyle with me” thing comes up. Because he’s not just proposing BDSM play in their sex life, he’s wanting her submission round the clock, even when they’re not together. That, to me, seems like a bigger commitment than marriage. What’s wrong with hanging out a little bit, first?

I am plagued by one question – why is he like this? Is it because he was seduced at such a young age? I just don’t know. He’s still such a mystery.

This depiction of BDSM as a symptom of mental trauma is really insulting, and yet here we are. I’m sure that sometimes, people are into BDSM because of some unresolved issue, just like sometimes people get really into fitness or hobbies or recreational drug use because of unresolved issues. But I’m pretty confident that most of the time, people get into BDSM because it makes their no-no parts all tingly. Sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar, as the old saying goes, and sometimes, people just like being spanked. There doesn’t have to be a dark secret behind it.

I stop beside a large spruce and put my hands on my knees, breathing hard, dragging precious air into my lungs. Oh, this feels good, cathartic. I can feel my resolve hardening.

Yes. I need to tell him what’s okay and what isn’t. I need to email him my thoughts, and then we can discuss these on Wednesday.

We see here that Ana has had to psych herself up to tell Christian that she’s not down for certain things in this contract. This is the girl who would never do anything she didn’t want to do, but she can’t figure out how to tell this guy that she isn’t really even dating that she’s not pro-anal fisting? She jogs back to the apartment, where Kate has been shopping for her trip to Barbados:

Mainly bikinis and matching sarongs. She will look fabulous in all of them, yet she still makes me sit and comment while she tries on each and every one.

ANA WOULD NEVER DO ANYTHING THAT SHE DID NOT WANT TO DO.

 There are only so many ways one can say – you look fabulous Kate. She has a curvy, slim figure to die for. She doesn’t do it on purpose, I know, but I haul my sorry, perspiration clad, old t-shirt, sweat pants, and sneakers ass into my room on the pretext of packing more boxes. Could I feel any more inadequate?

 Could you whine anymore about your roommate being pretty? Because I’m pretty sure no one is tired of that yet.

Ana goes into her room to sulk about not being pretty enough, and to email Christian. She sends him the message I was hoping to see for a very, very long time:

To: Christian Grey
Okay, I’ve seen enough.
It was nice knowing you.

But then:

I press send, hugging myself, laughing at my little joke. Will he find it as funny? Oh shit – probably not. Christian Grey is not famed for his sense of humor. But I know it exists, I’ve experienced it. Perhaps I’ve gone too far. I wait for his answer.

Of course she didn’t mean it! I mean, she totally doesn’t want to have anything to do with the contract or the lifestyle he wants to introduce her to, but she doesn’t actually mean it when she gives him the brush off. Afraid that she’s just blown her chance with Christian (why she is afraid of this outcome, I cannot say), she starts packing and worrying. When she still hasn’t heard anything from him at nine o’clock, she does what any sane, rational doormat of a person would do and sits down to pour over the contract again.

I don’t know why I glance up, maybe I catch a slight movement from the corner of my eye. I don’t know, but when I do, he’s standing in the doorway of my bedroom watching me intently. He’s wearing his grey flannel pants and a white linen shirt, gently twirling his car keys. I pull my ear buds out and freeze. Fuck!

So, Ana has sent him an email telling him that the deal is off, but he still shows up at her house. I’m holding out hope at this point that he realized it was all a joke. Of course, the first thing Ana does is blame Kate for this, for that evil, pretty, blonde bitch who pays for everything is clearly responsible:

Damn Kate for letting him in here with no warning. Vaguely, I’m aware that I’m still in my sweats, unshowered, yucky, and he’s just gloriously yummy.

First of all, that’s a lot of specifics for something you’re only “vaguely” aware of. Second, how is it Kate’s fault that you’ve been sitting around in your sweaty workout clothes for hours? That grossness is on you, not Kate, okay?

Christian tells Ana that he wanted to reply to her email in person, hence the random drop by. Ana is shocked that he would just turn up, but is it really that unexpected, Ana? You told him not to just show up at the bar, and yet he did. Christian sits on her bed and says that he wondered what her room would look like, and then Ana gives us the most unintentionally telling line of the entire book so far:

I glance around it, plotting an escape route, no- there’s still only the door or window.

If that’s not a fear response, I don’t know what is. Now, I’m no E.L. James, okay? But I have written one or two or twenty-ish of my own books, many of them romances. While there is something of a thrill factor in having the heroine be a little afraid of the super alpha hero, you have to walk a really delicate balance. You don’t want the reader to think that the heroine is actually super afraid of the hero, or that she has a reason to find him literally dangerous, because that’s when the fear stops being sexy. Right now, Ana is acting like Hannibal Lecter just strolled up into her apartment. That does not scream sexual tension to a reader. At least, not to a reader using critical thinking skills. I’m just going to put a little excerpt here, and I want you to read it while listening to the following music. Just ignore the fact that Harry Potter’s patronus is here, listening with us. Or don’t, maybe it adds to the ambiance if you’re a Potter fan:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c2fwY99c7GQ]

“How…?”
He smiles at me.
“I’m still at the Heathman.”
I know that.
“Would you like a drink?” Politeness wins out over everything else I’d like to say.
“No, thank you, Anastasia.” He smiles a dazzling, crooked smile, his head cocked slightly to one side.
Well, I might need one.
“So, it was nice knowing me?”
Holy cow, is he offended? I stare down at my fingers. How am I going to dig myself out of this? If I tell him it was a joke, I don’t think he’ll be impressed.
“I thought you’d reply by email.” My voice is small, pathetic
“Are you biting your lower lip deliberately?” he asks darkly.
I blink up at him, gasping, freeing my lip.

Creepy, right? Now, just in case you feel I’m being unfair in that assessment of the scene, let’s try it with romantic music, instead. Re-read that same excerpt, with this music:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fc0IBXQYD0Q]

It doesn’t fit, does it? It doesn’t sound like Brad Pitt and Julia Ormond falling in and out of love over the course of a movie that should have been at least 50% more stroked out badass Anthony Hopkins, does it? It still sounds like Ana is afraid. Her voice is “small and pathetic”. She’s worried about having to dig herself out of the situation. This is not a romantic encounter. And yet, when he reaches out and undoes one of her pig tails, she’s all electricity this and hypnotized that.

Ana is “all rabbit/headlights, moth/flame, bird/snake…” so I guess you can pick your own metaphor from the ones the author has provided. Although, I don’t quite pick up on the bird/snake one. Maybe it’s one of those “Americanisms” like “bloody” and “throw toys from the pram” that Ana uses. She also points out that there are no nipple clamps in the Bible, and really, I don’t need to fact check that, I’m pretty sure I would have done better in religion class if there had been nipple clamps. All we got was a movie about Sodom and Gomorrah where a woman had relations with a goat, and I slept through that.

Christian tells Ana that he’s there to remind her how nice it is knowing him. So, he’s there to have goat relations sex with her. What if she had been totally serious in the email, Christian? What if it was a real turn-down? Of course, it wasn’t, because Ana has been feeling a little down about her appearance, so she’s ready to rumble:

He wants me, and this does strange, delicious things to my insides. Not Kate in her little bikinis, not one of the fifteen, not evil Mrs. Robinson. This beautiful man wants me. My inner goddess glows so bright she could light up Portland.

Let’s really look this one over, dear readers. She’s excited that he wants her instead of the girl who is seeing his brother, the fifteen partners he already has broken things off with, and the woman who raped him for six years from the time he was fifteen years old. Maybe Kate’s inner goddess finds this some kind of triumph, but is it? Is it really, Ana?

Christian asks Ana to trust him. For him to trust her, she had to sign paperwork, but she should just trust him because he asks her to. Makes sense. He ties her to her bed with his gray silk tie (that he brought for just such an occasion), and starts to undress her, before she panics and realizes that she’s still wearing her sweaty, gross work out clothes from hours before. He pulls her t-shirt over her face, leaving only her mouth and nose uncovered, so she’s basically wearing the most ridiculous blindfold ever (and really, that is kind of hot, so props to E.L. on that one), and he goes to get a drink. He’s out in the other room, talking to Kate, half undressed, and then he comes back with that drink. He asks her if she’s thirsty, and then… oh God.

Let me put a trigger warning here. I have OCD, and one of my biggest triggers is germs. I wash my hands way too much, and I rarely, if ever, kiss my husband on the mouth. It is a miracle I’ve survived this long with pets and children without going crazy, and it is for that reason that I warn anyone with similar hang ups, DO NOT READ THE NEXT PARAGRAPH:

I hear the ice clink against the glass, and he puts it down again and leans down and kisses me, pouring a delicious crisp, liquid into my mouth as he does. It’s white wine. It’s so unexpected, hot, though it’s chilled, and Christian’s lips are cool.

He spits. Into her mouth.

Okay, I realize that to people who aren’t mentally ill, this might be really sexy. But since we’re talking about my experience with this book and not other people’s experiences with the book, I feel free to say:
NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!

And he keeps on in this fashion, like she’s a baby bird, spitting wine and ice into her mouth, and then eventually dribbling it out over her entire body until he fills up her belly button with it. He warns her not to move, because she’ll get wine all over the bed, and if she gets wine on the bed, she’ll be punished.

“Come on, Anastasia, again,” he growls through clenched teeth, and unbelieveably, my body responds, convulsing around him as I climax anew, calling out his name.

Okay, here’s the part where I realized that, right up until now, every time Christian wants Ana to go somewhere or follow him, he has said, “Come,” followed by direction. Here, when he wants her to have another orgasm, he says, “Come on.” How could he have gotten these two phrases flipped around in daily usage? If you’ve read the book, did you notice this, too?

When they’re all done, and Christian is getting dressed, he drops the bomb that I was waiting for through the entire scene:

“Only certain things are funny, Anastasia. I thought you were saying no, no discussion at all.” His voice drops.

This whole showing up uninvited, tying her to the bed, spitting wine all over her? He did that because he was angry with her. She told him no, so he showed up to fuck her into agreement. Now, here’s my question: what would he have done if she was serious? Would he have taken her “no” for an answer? I think it’s pretty clear here, Christian Grey isn’t terribly concerned with how he gets Ana’s consent, so long as he gets it. If he has to wear her down (see also: coerce), that’s as good as real consent. And if she says no? He’ll just show up and randomly fuck her, because how could she possibly say no once he’s brought his little Chedward to the bargaining table?

Christian lets it slip that he is still in contact with the woman who raped him when he was fifteen, and Ana, rather than being horrified that he’s got such a terrible case of Stockholm syndrome, gets jealous and points out that it’s unfair that he has someone he can talk to about all this D/s stuff, and she doesn’t.  Rather than saying, “Hey, good point, go ahead and talk to Kate,” he offers to introduce her to one of his ex-girlfriends, so she’ll have someone to talk to. Ana is rightly offended, and is even more so when he tells her that he’s not planning on staying over, or ever sleeping with her (in the literal sense) ever again. So, she kicks him out. But he stays around for a minute, talking about how much he’d like to beat her so he would feel better, so of course, she’s keeping her dinner date with him because he’s such a charmer.

Ana thinks of how bad her hair is and how Kate is going to ask her questions about stuff (and as you’ll remember, Kate speaking to Ana in any way is the single most obnoxious thing ever) as she walks Christian to the door.

For the first time, I’m wishing he was – normal – wanting a normal relationship that doesn’t need a ten-page agreement, a flogger, and karabiners in his playroom ceiling.

FOR THE FIRST TIME. I’m pretty sure words mean things, Ana, and you’ve been lamenting the fact that you don’t have a normal relationship since you got involved with this guy. WORDS. MEAN. THINGS.

This is the first time I have ever had sex in my home, and as sex goes, I think it was pretty damn fine. But now I feel like a receptacle – an empty vessel to be filled at his whim. My subconscious shakes her head.

You wanted to run to the Heathman for sex – you had it express delivered. She crosses her arms and taps her foot with a what-are-you-complaining-about-look on her face.

Oh, how rape culture rears its ugly, ingrained head in Ana at this moment. She doesn’t feel good about the sex they just had, she doesn’t feel good about their relationship, but she was asking for it. She wanted to have sex, and she got it, so even though Christian has basically just shown up to fuck away her resistance to signing the contract and brought up his exes within like, .04 seconds of being inside of her, Ana’s “subconscious” feels like she shouldn’t complain, and be careful what you wish for and all that. Ana reaches a crisis moment:

I feel a paradigm shift. I know that if I do this thing with him, I will get hurt. He’s not capable, interested, or willing to offer me any more… and I want more. Much more. The surge of jealousy I felt only moments ago tells me that I have deeper feelings for him than I have admitted to myself.

So, she tells him that she’s not interested in signing the contract, and they go their separate ways, and the book ends. Psych, she kisses him instead, and “something changes”. Chedward asks the rhetorical “what are you doing to me?” that all romance heroes, tossed upon the heretofore unexplored seas of love are bound by formula to ask, and then he leaves. Ana runs to her room to cry, and Kate comes in to check on her.

Patiently, I explain the essence of my email without giving anything away.
“So you thought he’d reply by email.”
“Yes.”
“But instead he turns up here.”
“Yes.”
“I’d say he’s completely smitten with you.” 

Oh, is that the conclusion you arrived to, Kate? I thought you were the smart one. But when Kate finds out that he turned up just to have sex to put Ana in her place, she’s rightly horrified. She also informs Ana that her mom won’t be coming to her graduation on Thursday, so, you know, here’s a cherry for your shit sundae, Ana.

After Kate leaves, Ana sits down and emails Chedward the list of all the things she finds wrong with the contract, including how much she’s willing to sleep and exercise, that she’ll sign on for one month, not three, and fisting? No fucking way. I’m impressed that she’s showing some spine, and she’s actually being the Ana she thinks she is while she’s letting other people run her life. Christian’s response to these concerns is to ask her why she’s still awake. She replies saucily, and he sends her an email with “GO TO BED” in all caps. Since she would never do anything she didn’t want to do, she gets intimidated by his “shouty caps” and goes straight to bed. So much for that spine I was praising a moment ago.

And thus, chapter twelve ends on condescending Wonka:

If you haven’t yet checked out the Name Chedward’s Penis contest, I highly encourage you to give it a try. You stand to win some awesome prizes.

Also, did everyone see the 50 Shades of Grey/Amazon spoof on SNL? I combination love/hate it, because it falls in step with the media praising these books for being erotic, but it’s super funny, so I guess I have to give it a pass. Plus, it depicts female masturbation in a pretty positive, normal light, unlike the book that actually inspired it.

Hopefully, embedding it here doesn’t result in some huge formatting catastrophe, because Hulu sometimes insists on operating that way:

So, last time we saw Ana, she had just opened the sex contract Christian had given her. Her heart is pounding as she starts to read it. My heart starts pounding when I realize that the contract is actually in the book. No glossing over it, the entire contract is here, and we’re going to have to read every last boring bit of it.

2. The fundamental purpose of this contract is to allow the Submissive to explore her sensuality and her limits safely, with due respect and regard for her needs, her limits and her wellbeing.

No, it’s not. The fundamental purpose of this contract is so Christian can get his rocks off and she can’t tell anybody about it. Let’s be completely clear on that point, okay? Because nothing up to this point has been about Ana. There is a clause about safety procedures and about either of them informing the other if they happen to get le herpes during the course of their relationship. There is a clause allowing Christian to “discipline” Ana, and a clause stating that she must obey Christian “in all things”:

Subject to the agreed terms, limitations and safety procedures set out in this contract or agreed additionally under clause 3 above she shall without query or hesitation offer the Dominant such pleasure as he may require and she shall accept without query or hesitation his training, guidance and discipline in whatever form it may take.

Stop with your sexy talk, binding legal document. So, just for how long does Ana have to offer Christian “such pleasure as he may require” and do it “without query or hesitation”? Three. Freaking. Months.

11 This contract shall be effective for a period of three Calendar Months from The Commencement Date (“The Term”). On the expiry of The Term the parties shall discuss whether this contract and the arrangements they have made under this contract are satisfactory and whether the needs of each party have been met. Either party may propose the extension of this contract subject to adjustments to its terms, or to the arrangements they have made under it. In the absence of agreement to such extension this contract shall terminate and both parties shall be free to resume their lives separately.

Now I know why Christian Grey has never been married. Too much paperwork. He might have millions in the bank, but he can’t afford the lawyer’s fee to draw up the document needed to make that kind of commitment.

Let’s keep in mind, too, that Christian is asking Ana to agree to three months of submission when she still doesn’t know what it is. There’s no way for her to know if she’s going to be down to be caned, but she has to sign a piece of paper saying she’s okay with Christian caning to her for three months, or else he’s going to withhold emotional intimacy entirely. What a charmer this guy continues to turn out to be.

Ana is expected to “make herself available” from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon. And then we got to this part:

13 The Dominant reserves the right to dismiss the Submissive from his service at any time and for any reason. The Submissive may request her release at any time, such request to be granted at the discretion of the Dominant subject only to the Submissive’s rights under clause 2-5 and 8 above.

Excuse me? Christian can kick Ana’s tail to the curb for any reason, whatsoever, but if she decides that this isn’t her scene, Christian gets to decide whether or not she can get out of the contract? Yeah, the third clause in this nightmare of paperwork that passes for a chapter specifies that everything has to be consensual, but the second she wants out, he has the right to consider whether or not she’s breaching the terms of the contract? That’s some bullshit. Don’t sign it, Ana.

Christian’s terms are pretty simple. He gets to do whatever he wants with Ana’s body, including using physical punishments on her for his own enjoyment and without reason, just so long as he doesn’t endanger her health or leave permanent marks on her. If he does hurt her, or if she just gets sick, he’ll take care of her and get her medical attention if needed. Oh, and he’ll stay healthy, too, so he can “maintain a risk-free environment”. I stopped when I read that and thought, “How is him not being healthy enough going to affect maintaining a safe environment for this kind of thing?”

There is also a clause stating that Chedward has to keep all his bondage equipment clean. Because if there is anything a woman hates, it’s getting sloppy seconds from the ping pong paddle.

Ana’s terms are a little more involved. She has to agree that Christian is allowed to use her any way he wants, at any time, because she is his property. She can’t masturbate (not that it’s going to be a hardship for Polly Pureheart, anyway),  and she has to stay on the pill. Then come the even weirder ones:

15.22 The Submissive shall not look directly into the eyes of the Dominant except when specifically instructed to do so. The Submissive shall keep her yes cast down and maintain a quiet and respectful bearing in the presence of the Dominant.

Why, is he a big fan of Memoirs of a Geisha? His desire to see Ana with her eyes cast down seems like a ploy to get her to walk into a lot of shit, when seriously, man, you could just wait for it to happen organically. I wonder if falling down constantly is part of “respectful bearing”.

15.23 The Submissive shall always conduct herself in a respectful manner to the Dominant and shall address him only as Sir, Mr. Grey, or such other title as the Dominant may direct.

I understand this one isn’t all that weird during BDSM play, but this contract covers the entire three months. “Who have you been seeing for three months, Ana?” “Oh, this guy, Mr. Grey. I’m not allowed to call him by his name.” She’s also not allowed to touch him without his permission, which seems like it’s going to make the sex scenes from here on out even more tedious.

The paperwork goes on for quite some time in this chapter, so you’ll have to forgive me for skipping over a lot of it. As you can tell from the excerpts I’ve already posted, it’s about as juicy and titillating as burnt toast, and by the time I reached the end I still had no idea what would happen if Ana broke the agreement. I suppose she loses the privilege of being with Christian Grey but not being able to tell anyone about it.

There is a safe word, not one picked by the Submissive, as would be the safest possible option, but one that Christian dictates. The word is “Red”. That will certainly never come up by accident or in a confusing way in the Red Room of Pain. For all his paperwork, Christian is really bad at the basics. He’s also super bad at logic:

The Submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant. The Submissive will conduct herself in a respectful and modest manner at all times. She must recognize that her behavior is a direct reflection on the Dominant.

How, genius? How is her behavior a reflection on you, when you made her sign a non-disclosure agreement that keeps her from telling anyone she’s had sex with you? When there is a clause in this very contract that says everything you do together is confidential. It’s not like she can tell anyone that she’s connected to you, in any way, without some vague legal ramification, so how does her behavior reflect on Christian Grey? I’d also like to point out, there is no similar clause for Christian. He can apparently bang anybody he wants, without consequence.

By the time Ana gets through the Hard and Soft limits pages, where she has to decide whether or not she’s up for anal fisting, among other things, Ana is about ready to self-destruct:

Holy Fuck. I can’t bring myself to even consider the food list.

Yeah, because the list of what you are and aren’t allowed to eat is going to be somehow more shocking than the list of what orifices you’ll allow a man’s fist in.

My head is buzzing. How can I possibly agree to all this? And apparently it’s for my benefit, to explore my sensuality, my limits – safely – oh please! I scoff angrily. Serve and obey in all things. All things! I shake my head in disbelief. Actually, doesn’t the marriage ceremony use those words… obey?

What in the actual fuck, Ana. You don’t want to do this. You’re straight up saying that you don’t want to do this, but as long as you can pretend it’s just like being married…  She is not okay with pretty much all of the contract, and she doesn’t want to do any of it. Ana realizes that this is not the relationship she wants, and she’s not going to sign the contract. That is, she’s not going to sign the contract until:

My inner goddess is jumping up and down, clapping her hands like a five-year-old. Please, let’s do this… otherwise we’ll end up alone with lots of cats and your classic novels to keep you company.

The only man I’ve ever been attracted to, and he comes with a bloody contract, a flogger, and a whole world of issues. Well, at least I got my way this weekend. My inner goddess stops jumping and smiles serenely. Oh yes… she mouths, nodding at me smugly.

There’s one of those references to children in a moment of serious consideration of sexuality. Just, you know, in case you’re keeping a box score or something. So, right about here, Ana puts a real fine point on my argument that she’s too immature to consent to the type of relationship Christian is wanting. No part of the arrangement sounds beneficial to her, to the point that she feels traumatized by reading the contract, but she’s considering signing anyway because this might be her last chance. At twenty-one, she’s either got to enter into a D/s type relationship she does not want to be involved in, or she’s going to die alone, surrounded by cats. No middle ground at all. Now, obviously, if she spoke to someone, perhaps someone a little wiser in the ways of relationships, she would see that OH THAT’S RIGHT. He’s made her sign a non-disclosure. She can’t talk to anyone – except him – about her misgivings or concerns.

Am I submissive? Maybe I come across that way. Maybe I misled him in the interview. I’m shy, yes… but submissive? I let Kate bully me – is that the same?

Maybe you come across as submissive? Because you misled him? Ana, you have yet to display any backbone at all, through this entire book. In fact, the only reason you know Christian Grey is because you went and interviewed him despite the fact that you did not want to. Of course, Ana can’t say no to Kate, because Kate is a bully. Just because we’ve never really seen Kate “bully” Ana into anything (but we have seen Ana agree to do whatever Kate asks, internally complaining while outwardly protesting that she really, really wants to do these things) that doesn’t matter. Kate is a bully, because Ana believes her to be. Just like Ana believes that she’s not a walking doormat. The problem can’t be with Ana’s total lack of self esteem or inability to say no. Ana is actually a strong-willed, independent woman who would never do anything she didn’t want to. She doesn’t have to ever actually be strong-willed or independent; if she tells the reader that she is strong-willed and independent, that makes it so.

 She’s so freaked out by the contract, she has to sleep it off, but when she does, she has oddly literal and specific dreams about Christian Grey. The next morning, Kate wakes her up, and Ana is so exhausted, she’s slept until eight in the morning. Nine whole hours! Jeepers. A guy is there with a delivery, and Kate is super excited because “‘It’s big'”. I’m wondering if it’s a piano or something:

“I have a package for you here, but I have to set it up and show you how to use it.”
“Really? At this time?”
“Only following orders, ma’am.” He smiles in a charming but professional he’s-not-taking-any-crap way.

She can’t even tell a delivery person that no, she doesn’t want him to come in and set up what’s in the great big box he’s carrying. And honestly, I’m surprised that Mr. Jealous McHypersensitive allowed the package to be delivered by a man, the way he reacted to her getting a phone call from another dude. What is in the big package, you ask? It’s a Macbook Pro. One of the most compact, sleek machines on the market right now. If you’ve never bought an Apple laptop, here’s a hint: they don’t come in excessively large packaging (my Macbook Pro came in a box smaller than an average briefcase) and they don’t require set up. Like, at all. You literally just plug the thing into the wall and go.

Kate points out that Ana could have just used her laptop, but Ana knows that she just can’t use Kate’s laptop to look up sexual things. She tells Kate that the computer is just on loan, because Christian wants her to try it out. So, already, Christian Grey’s demands for this relationship involve Ana lying to her friends. But there’s no time to dwell on that, the messenger guy has to tell Ana all the technical specs of her Macbook, right down the 1.5TB hard drive (that Apple does not put in their Macbook Pro models). Christian has even gone so far as to give her a Me account with an email address. Because Ana, a college graduate in the 21st century, did not have an email address.

When Ana checks her email, she finds that Christian has already sent her a message regarding the laptop, and saying he looks forward to having dinner with her. This results in an email exchange that would be kind of cute, if taken out of the context of this specific book with this specific weird relationship. Ana is totally psyched that he emailed her:

I’m like a small, giddy child. And all the contract angst fades.

So, here we are again, feeling like a child because a man paid attention to her.