“.. 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, Continue reading
“…ANASTASIA: Mr Grey, is that a Barbie up my butt? Christian: Oops, wrong playroom… and other things you might hear in Christian Grey’s household after a few years of marriage and a couple of children…” (For any mom who’s read any or all of the series. And I promise, No spoilers!)
Okay, I’m officially on the bandwagon. You moms with all of your oohing and ahhhing, and “Oh, Mr. Grey-ing.” Your running to the nearest Pleasure Chest Sex Emporium, and your, “My laundry and dishes are piling up because I can’t put these books down,” have gotten me to read the Fifty Shades series.
So, what is it about these books that have moms devouring them like left over fries on their child’s plate?
Well, here’s what I’ve come up with so far: It makes me giggle when someone calls their vagina their “sex.” I find the sound of ripping foil oddly erotic. And Christian has made millions of women across the world, myself included, rethink our marraiges, and wonder why our hubbies can’t be more attentive, loving, obsessed, and well, “Christian-esque.”
So, what’s the deal? Why can’t our hubby’s be more like Christian Grey?
Because like “Twilight’s” Edward Cullen (who the character is based on) – hot young vampires and hot young billionaires that barely work, have erotic sex, lavish you with expensive goodies, and make sure you’re never cold, hungry, or un-swathed in designer duds – don’t exist.
But if they did, would we want them? I wonder what it’d with a Christian Grey-esque man after a few years of marriage and a couple of children?
Hmmm? (Imagine squiggly lines in your mind, to indicate a dream sequence):
CHRISTIAN: Ohh, Mrs. Grey, stop biting that lower lip or I’ll take you here in the breakfast nook!
ANASTASIA: Um, Mr. Grey, it would behoove you to wait until the children are done with their Cheerios. It might be a bit awkward and messy with them around. Plus, you’re starting to creep me out.
CHRISTIAN: Oh, don’t worry about the mess, Mrs. Grey., Ms. Jones will tend to it.
ANASTASIA: Which reminds me, Mr. Grey, please ask Ms. Jones to stop sterilizing the butt plugs with the bottle nipples.
CHRISTIAN: Oh Anastasia, Continue reading