“.. He’s kept us company until all hours of the night. He’s been a part of our dreams, our fantasies and ultimately he’s set the standard for our poor hubby’s, unattainably high…”
Last Saturday night, on our weekly date, my husband (who is not the man in the pic on your left) pulled into a parking spot and walked around to my side of the car, (as it was on the way to the restaurant). I sat in my seat, not budging. He looked at me through the window about a foot from the door and said, “Whatcha’ waiting for, c’mon let’s go.”
Of course, I was waiting for him to open said door, but he actually yelled through it – with exaggerated mime like hand motions instead. I pulled the handle and exited with a huff.
“Why can’t you be more like Christian Grey?” I said, in the same way my daughter says things like, “Why can’t you be more like Jessie’s mom? She keeps ice cream cones in her house,” or “Why can’t we live with Julia’s? Her family has stairs.”
Yep, after having failed the many Grey tests I’d administered the last couple weeks, much to my hubby’s chagrin, I finally gave in to the frustrations that started building the moment I opened the Fifty Shades series. As if I don’t nag enough about remembering trash day or putting dishes in the sink, I had to air this doozy of a grievance?
WHY CAN’T MY HUSBAND BE MORE LIKE CHRISTIAN GREY?
There’s no answer to such a ridiculous gripe. I guess the hubby could respond the way I do with my daughter, “Well, if Christian Grey is so great, why don’t you go live with him?”
But, somehow I don’t think that’s the answer and not just because he’s a fictional character, but because I’d totally take him up on it if he wasn’t so darn, well, made-up.
Let’s be honest here, he’s not just a fictional character, he’s the man that millions of women across America have been having a torrid affair with, myself included. He’s kept us company until all hours of the night. He’s been a part of our dreams, our fantasies and ultimately he’s set a standard for our poor hubby’s, unattainably high, which is why our men are getting a bit jealous and our fuses are getting a bit short.
Why are so many women cheating with Christian? You may think it’s because of what’s being called “Mommy Porn,” but I have a feeling we see a lot more to the books than nipple clamps and metal balls. In fact, I think many women liked the books in spite of some of those things. Look, 98% of the time we’re cleaning spills, carting the kids to sports or dance class, trying to hide vegetables in things that we call “brownies” and harboring some resentment toward our hubby’s. Oh, and did I mention many of us work too?
This is our 2%, our break, our escape, our acceptable infidelity. While the neglected laundry, dishes, and errands pile up, we’re falling in love with the perfect man. The kind of man who can’t take his eyes off us, wants us to always be happy, warm, well fed, and donning the trendiest duds. The kind of many who’s supermodel hot and Mark Zuckerberg rich. The kind of man who’s utterly obsessed with us.
Whether we would really like this type of overwhelmingly smothering man while we’re trying to get the children fed, bathed and tucked into bed, is of little concern, as he doesn’t exist.
So men, forgive us if we want to see a bit more of him in you. I mean, it’s a small thing to ask that you look at us the way you once did, open a door or two, and maybe read a book about our new lover. He’s the one you can thank for the sudden spike in our sex life.
If you love the books… love this article… love the blog Check out my other favorite Christian Grey piece: A Parody – What it Would REALLY be Like to be Married to Christian Grey
For everyone else – no more CG for a while, I promise.