50 Shades of Puce

I've been itching to write about this...book. And I'm going to try to be as sensitive as I possibly can, as it is quite obvious that Fifty Shades of Grey  has a very strong following. It has been referenced on every TV show, discussed between countless of women through social media or whispers and has even increased the birth rate (stated by Hoda and Kathy Lee). When I heard that, I knew I had to read it. For a book to increase the birth rate had to be good!! We don't have bookstores where I live and I couldn't wait even one day for Amazon to deliver it, so I ordered it through my iPad, snuggled back, ready for some wild, hot, incredible sex. Okay...so the beginning was kind of slow and fairly predictable, but that was fine...the author had to set the scene and why waste words when there was steamy sex to be described? So, I kept reading...and reading...Got through the virgin who'd never had an interest in a boyfriend even as she graduated college...understood the attraction to the impossibly rich, gorgeous young man (the guy wasn't even 30!)...oh, but wait...there was some steamy stuff happening...where they having...sex? Really? Oh, come on...all the control crap, the contract signing game and this was the sex?? This was my "I have a headache" sex! And what's this crap about "vanilla sex"? I didn't read about anything more exciting than maybe "vanilla with sprinkles".

I don't consider myself a whore, ladies. I have not sleep with hundreds of men. And not all of them were...well, lets just say Advil came in handy. But you wanna know what the opposite of  "vanilla sex" is? I would happily explain the...erotic ballet that makes sex anything but plain, but I don't think this site will allow me to elaborate. And it never involves being treated like a submissive concubine being chained in some sick torture chamber being beaten just to see how much she could take. I've got nothing against experimenting with certain forms of restraint. Or being submissive. But only with a man I trust. Not some control freak, I don't care how much money he has.

By the time I finished the book, I was angry as hell. There were so many opportunities to find out why this guy had fifty shades of anything, but only two were explored and the most important one passed right over: physical abuse!!! The cycle of it, the reason for it, where this virgin's mind was at that she thought this was acceptable, even once? Skipping over that set women back to caveman days. Women are buying this, getting turned on because of it, making it acceptable for a man to beat the shit out of her because now its our deepest fantasies, not our fears. Ladies, please..buy a Harlequin. Erica Jong!!!!! Judith Krantz!!! Oh my god, both authors don't (pardon the pun) beat around the bush! Wifey by Judy Blume may be a little dated for you, but not the contents!!! I can provide a list of incredibly erotic books if requested...or maybe not...we're already over populated!

You don't think I could end this without my very own version of Fifty Shades, do you? I mean, c'mon...! I am...well...me!

I met him at work and I hated him. The mere appearance of this blond hair, blue eyed Mr.50 made every woman in the office swoon. Rumor had it that he was loaded, divorced and spoiled his women rotten. I thought he was a pompous ass trying to pretend he had class when he wouldn't have known, let alone appreciate van Gogh's "Starry Starry Night" as anything more than the name of a song. And he had a nasty temper.

 A couple years later, when my long-awaited divorce had been final for a while, that Mr. 50 strolled into the office to visit with the company's president, which involved stopping at the desk of every female on the way, including mine. He always called me Miss Kimmie and it irritated the hell out of me, but I had to admit the two years had been good to Mr.50, too. He'd acquired the company he'd been VP of for years and was living even higher on the hog (a very appropriate term for him, I thought). We had been forced to work more closely together when a colleague had left, and I had to admit that when he dropped the attitude and explained why he did things a certain way, it made sense and I quickly picked up his style of mixing, ordering, delivering. It became a kind of challenge for me and I began to take the initiative to call salesmen and regular customers myself to make sure that each truck we sent out was loaded to capacity...anything for him to stay off my back. No-no-no...not yet! I didn't know hw soon I'd crave to have him on my back...but go get a bottle of ice water and wait for it. There was one afternoon in particular that I'll never forget..and how could I? It started years of the most over-the-top, insatiable, sex that I'd ever known...the kind you smile about when you gingerly sit in your chair...Okay, I gave it away, but he worked slowly...first, it was concern because I didn't seem myself and he began to call me with excuses to talk to me personally...then it was the gift of a cell phone (this was 1997-portable cell phones were a big deal!) along with constant offers to come by his house to talk...(right...), listen to some music...and did I like a particular champagne? Why sure! Dom! What else? It took a particularly terrible day before I agreed to stop by after work, but made it clear that this was just to talk, like he'd offered. It was all there as promised...he had changed from usual work attire into jeans and I realized we were fairly close in age. Albums were spread across the floor and there was a bottle of Dom chilling in an ice bucket, with another in the 'fridge, just in case. It took me 24 hrs before I couldn't take it anymore and the rest...you already know. He treated me like a princess...anything I wanted was mine for the asking. That wasn't my style (its since changed and I suggest the sooner you do the same, the happier you'll be!), so he used to make up excuses to give me presents.When there was a particular event he was invited to where the guests were Fortune 500 members, he always brought me with him, but only after shopping for an entire ensemble.  We spent idyllic weekends at his house in the Keys..He flew me out to Beverly Hills...money was no object...and the sex? Chocolate isn't even close to what we shared. We agreed there were two things that were off limits: no three-somes with other women and physical  abuse. Other than that, there were no rules. We tried it all. And I liked it.  He and I made Fifty Shades of Grey look like a "how-to manual" of learning not to lay there like a log.

C'mon girls...you know what to do...and if you don't, tell the guy and ask if its okay to "play". Really, unless it involves cutlery, he's not going to say no...and please...use your copy of  "Fifty Shades..."  to light the fireplace!

Honesty and Trust Revisited

I am cynical. After reading all the responses to the last post, I realize that somewhere in this...unexpected journey through the labyrinth of romance, I forgot what was waiting for me in the center: pure, unconditional love. I got lost in the mind games and the promises that were never kept and...stopped believing. Like a child who discovers who Santa Claus is, there seems to be a certain innocence that's lost...But from the messages I've read, the belief in love (and Santa) isn't lost.

A Florida mother of two kids (ages 20 and 14 respectively) wrote that she had married a man who had lied to her throughout their marriage, then she survived their divorce that could have made her curse Cupid and his stupid Arrow for the rest of her life, but she didn't. She kept on loving. She made some mistakes. And she learned about herself, about the choices she'd made. Most importantly, she didn't lose the belief that when there's love, trust and honesty are a given. She's a very brave woman. She's also engaged.

There were several emails regarding truth and online dating. I agree with everyone. To borrow an overused, yet beloved quote, cyber-dating "is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." I've known men and women actually have a complete "relationship" over the phone and/or online: A starry-eyed beginning, comfortable middle when you might admit you're still kinda going out with ____, but its really over, to a screaming, tearful end when______ answers the phone. One of the better dating sites states that if a member corresponds with 100 potential mates, 50% of the time, your future partner is in the Top 10 and 17% of the time, the first person on your list you'll end up dating. Not marrying...DATING!! Do you know it would take @ 17 hrs to correspond (that's means writing more than a couple of lines and forwarding it) with 100 people? A beloved friend of mine put it best: " Whoever is dishonest with very little will be dishonest with very much". A wise woman indeed. She never ceases to amaze me.

So, I will remember what my friends and readers have taught me; love is not lost...nor am I. The gift that awaits in the center of the labyrinth is mine, as long as my faith remains strong. I've got to stop being cynical, blaming the mind games and empty promises, because the space I give them is far too valuable. And as for those who chose lies over honesty--chew on this for a while:

"I'm not upset that you lied to me; I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you."
                                                                               --Friedrich Nietzsche