Why Ana Doesn’t Suck Nearly As Hard As You Think She Does (At Least Not Figuratively)

For Valentine’s Day, I decided to share some thoughts about E.L. James’ dubious masterpiece. You know the one? The book where this rich dude stalks and then seduces a vulnerable young woman into a BDSM relationship, repeatedly raping her just to prove to her that what they have between them is real and worth preserving? AKA, the most romantic book of all time?


I read the first Fifty Shades of Grey book three years ago because my roommate at the time was reading it. I knew going into it that it was pure smut. And  felt ashamed of myself for taking those baby steps down the road of literary soft-core porn in the guise of BDSM edginess.

Who am I kidding? What guise? There was no guise. Unless by “guise” you actually mean “guys.” There was a “guy.” Not plural, but to read E.L. James words, if you were to gather up all the men in the universe and add them together, they could not have equaled the sum of Christian Grey‘s parts.

It’s not that I find sex to be dirty, per se. I just like to tell myself that I have standards when it comes to what I will and will not read and watch. That there has to be some value to the story and that it’s purpose is not solely to titillate the bored mind.



But what can I say? I am human. And I am weak. And I used the fact that it’s good to be informed about the things that other people are talking about in society as a way to justify this morbid curiosity on my part.


Needless to say, I found very little about FSOG that was at all redeemable. The characters were trite. The writing was atrocious.


That being said, I want to take a moment to dissect why it is women hate Ana so much.



One of the things that people focus on when they talk about the trite characters is the way in which Ana Steele is described as a shy, awkward, virgin with fluff for brains. If the virgin character in Girls is the most non-virginal virgin you have ever met, Ana Steele is all the way at the other end of the spectrum. I’m a Mainer so I’m going to use a Maine metaphor here. It’s like the two young women both live in Maine (metaphor for land of the virgins) but the girl from Girls is in Southern Maine and Ana is way the hell out in Farmington. That’s assuming we can take anything any of the girls from Girls say at face value, and I have serious reservations about that, but that’s for another blog.

I can think of a lot of things that are wrong with this book. But one thing I don’t think was a problem with Ana’s character is that she was inexperienced. I know that lots of women and men feel threatened by a girl such as that. She doesn’t live up to the expectations we place on women these days. And I’m not trying to turn this into a “Down with Patriarchy” blog post because I know that men have a lot of unfair expectations placed on them as well and this is in no way meant to imply that I feel so devalued as a woman. It’s just discouraging to think about all the things that women are supposed to be and compare that to what I have accomplished in my own life. As a woman who has a few things in common with Ana at the start of the series---bookish, never dated, shy, etc.---- I feel the need to defend her. Even though I admit, she is a badly written Mary-Sue, she‘s still a Mary-Sue I can somewhat, sorta relate to.



There was a day when the worst thing you could do was have sex with a guy you weren’t married to. And virginity was a prized quality valued by all. Nowadays, I don’t feel that virginity is all that prized. If you’re a virgin in your twenties, or God forbid, in your thirties, forties or so on, you must be damaged goods. It’s because no guy (or girl) wants you. You must have some kind of defect. Or even if you don’t, men are intimidated by you because they’re afraid you’ll turn into Clingy McClinger on them (most likely, they were only looking to use you up like a Kleenex and toss you like a piece of litter on the curb when they were done anyway, but still, that's way harsh, Tai!)  So immediately upon learning that Ana is a virgin, she’s already earned herself a reputation as a poor excuse for a woman. If she had any worth, surely some man would have picked up on it long before her final year of college. The fact that she never seemed to miss the company of men is of no consequence to anyone. It’s because she’s a silly little girl who couldn’t possibly know what it is what she wants. She’s never even masturbated. She has no idea what it takes to arouse her. She likes books? Books bring her pleasure? Ha! What a trifling little fool.



Anyway, so we’ve established that Ana is not a woman to be looked up to because she’s never had sex. Also, she seems to be of low intelligence. It’s been a while since I read the books, so I can’t remember if she was a good cook or a good little housekeeper or if she had any aspirations to be a top executive for a well-known company. So what use is she to anyone? And how come she should be so lucky to fall in love with a rich, handsome guy like Christian Grey on her first go around and have multiple orgasms the first time he even so much as lays a finger on her when every other woman out there---living in the real world---had to suffer through painful, humiliating first times and probably kiss a lot of toads before they ended up with anyone halfway decent? Not to say that Christian Grey isn’t a toad. He is a psychotic, stalker rapist. But hey, that’s only because E.L. James bought the lie. The lie that says that if he’s not rich, handsome and willing to rape you just to show you how much he cares, then he probably doesn’t care enough and you’ve just settled. And the fact that so many women read these books and go on and on about how sexy they are only proves that the lie has taken on a life of its own and at least speaks to a deeper desire that women have. The desire to find something thrilling and romantic with someone who cares enough to stalk them. Hell, the average woman probably feels lucky to get a text on her birthday. And we may resent Ana because she’s not as smart as we think she should be. We would never be so stupid to fall for a toxic man who doesn’t really treat us with utmost respect. And why should she be so lucky to have a man dropped on her doorstep when she didn’t do anything to work for it. It wasn’t like she was out there working the streets or investing money into her local bars or dance clubs with the hope of reaping the rewards of a potential future relationship. She didn’t do shit. And look at where it got her? A pretty damned awesome first time with the kind of guy all the women are swooning over!



When thinking about this, I came up with a personal motto. And I felt it was a pretty apt one for Valentine’s Day. It goes like this.


“If you have to work for it, then it’s really not worth it.”



It was somewhat inspired by Al-Anon. Yes, I’ve been to Al-Anon because I am one of those flawed women who made the mistake of getting involved with someone who I expect was an alcoholic but, more importantly, was most definitely abusive.  I no longer associate with this person but it took way too long and way too many nights of crying myself to sleep, feeling like I was walking on egg shells with a gun to my chest at all times, ready to go off at the slightest move I made.  But the hard thing is that sometimes the things that hurt you most also help you in ways that make it impossible to regret your past mistakes. I am also a woman who is of average intelligence (though I think I have a pretty damn good memory and I feel I’m pretty good at writing my thoughts down though I suck at speaking them aloud). I don’t have any aspirations to be a big wig for some multi-million dollar company. My dream job is to be an assistant, so that I can just make some cash while being of service to others and then devote my personal time to the things I really love. I don’t want kids. And I don’t know as much as I should about current events. I‘m not a master cook (which is shameful not only as a woman but as an Italian). I try to keep my floors vacuumed, though I’m sure I do miss spots (and weeks). But one of the most inspirational things I’ve ever heard was at Al-Anon when someone told me “If you don’t know what to do, do nothing.” The point was that the right thing to do will come to you if you meditate on it and don’t try to push a resolution. And so it inspired this new motto of mine which follows a similar logic but is related to relationships.



People will make you feel that there’s something wrong with you and that’s why you’re single. Or why you ended up in a relationship with a douche bag and it took you way too long to realize it. But what I’ve decided is that if there’s one thing in life that is free, it is love. You don’t have to follow a bunch of rules in order to be worthy of it. You don’t have to pound the pavements night and day looking for it. When it’s the right time, it will come to you. And perhaps the fact that Ana spent so much of her time in tears was a pretty good indicator that Christian Grey wasn’t the right guy for her. But please stop with the Ana is stupid, Ana is weak, Ana doesn’t know what she wants, an experienced women would have known better! Let me tell you something. Experienced women certainly do not always know better. And one of these days, someone is gonna write a BDSM book to prove it to you. Hopefully by then, it’ll be old news, and we’ll all be on to bigger and better things.



I hope you all have a great Valentine’s Day!

MLK That Ignorance For All It's Worth

It’s that time of year to ponder the lessons we have learned from MLK Jr. and to reflect on how far we’ve come as a nation.



Today, I was at a burger joint and I came across a little African-American girl with a Caucasian woman whom I assume was her mother. The woman (we’ll call her “The Mother” to make things simple) was talking with one of the employees at the burger joint about how tomorrow was some holiday and so her daughter had the day off from school. She couldn’t think of the name of the holiday. I muttered, “Martin Luther King Day,” feeling a little embarrassed for butting in.  And she said, “What was that?” So I spoke up louder. And she smiled and said, “I can’t keep track of all of these holidays. I just know when she has a day off.”



And then the woman started talking to the employee about how her daughter was going to a party for Martin Luther King tomorrow. And the employee said, “I think he’s dead.” And they started talking about how this Martin Luther King guy might be dead, and the little girl said, “I think he was shot.” And they were all smiles, like, “Oh, aren’t you smart. Refreshing my memory like that.” And the girl went on to spout all of this knowledge about MLK and the mother is grinning at me like, “Don’t kids just say the darndest things?”



And I thought, How sad is that?  This woman, whom I’m assuming is the mother of this little black girl, doesn’t even know the first thing about the man who died fighting for her freedom.



I try not to judge. I don’t know anything about this woman other than the minute of conversation I overheard. Maybe she was just testing the little girl and pretending to be more ignorant than she was. Or maybe it’s a testament to the indifference that surrounds us when it comes to culturally significant people and events.



Just something that got me thinking today, on the day before MLK Jr. Day.

This Post Has 206 Likes

I’ve noticed that there are certain posts on Facebook that seem to get the most likes. Posts such as “X and Y are in a relationship” and “Buying a house” and “Having a Baby” and “Getting Married.”  It’s great that so many people are hitting major life milestones and that their friends and family want to be so supportive. I think about the day when I might start hitting some of those milestones myself. I’m not sure if Facebook will be around that far into the future. Maybe by the time I’m ready to start going out to dinner and a movie with a guy, we’ll all be robots and will be able to watch movies on a TV implanted in our tummies. Maybe sex will be something you do telekinetically and food will be fed to us intravenously through tubes we wear on our bodies at all times. So dinner and a movie will consist of staying at our homes, alone, staring at our navels.

Not trying to sound cynical here. I like to think that when I do start dating, it will be with someone I really care about and want to spend time with. Or at least enjoy interacting with telekinetically. And it will be when the time is right and not just because I feel like it’s something I need to do in order to hit all the items on my bucket list.



What bothers me the most is that, half the time, it seems as if we just mindlessly “like” things out of a sense of obligation. Cos’ it’s what people do in civilized Facebook society. There are those friends of ours who have been dating for a couple of years and they decide to tie the knot and we’re genuinely happy for them. But there are also those friends who just spent New Year’s Eve getting trashed with a complete stranger and then updated their status as “In a Relationship” the next day. Or the person who has just had their twelfth baby, and they seemed like they already had their hands full with three. Or the couple who announce they’re getting engaged, and you know for a fact that the girl has been cheating on the guy off and on for a couple of years because of things you’ve witnessed yourself while out on the town, or from coy messages that she’s posted online. Or someone who's decided to quit their day job and become a hooker (though of course they have another way of stating this, like "Going out to dinner tonight with a client $$$!") 

And we know who these people are because this is Facebook, not rocket science. You don’t need Sherlock Holmes telling you how to read a clue, in his puffed up British accent.


I’m certainly not saying we should ignore these people who clearly need our support more than most. Cos’ despite what their Facebook statuses seem to suggest, they’re probably dealing with a lot of shit right now. If not from all the anxiety over what they’re going to do with a twelfth baby, then from their own close friends and family who probably feel the constant need to interject and give them a piece of their minds.

I’m just saying that, maybe, instead of just mindlessly liking these statuses, like a herd of sheep, maybe add a little comment such as, “Wow! Twelfth baby, huh? I feel for you! But I know you can do this.” Or, “Glad you had fun last night. Here’s to hoping this relationship lasts!” Or, “In a relationship since March 2009, huh? I feel this status update should include the disclaimer ‘excluding February 2010, and November 2011 and October 2012 and August 2013.’ Other than that, I like this post!”

With passive aggressive quips like this, we are able to remain supportive while not reverting to shallow, meaningless half-hearted positive acknowledgement of people’s major milestones just because they fit some worn out cliché of what it means to live a happy life.

Shopping for Thank You Cards with Grandmother

Now that Christmas is over and the shopping frenzy is behind us, it’s time to start letting our loved ones know just how much their generosity has meant to us.


I went shopping for Thank You cards with my grandmother today. I suggested we go to the dollar store in order to save money, but my grandmother is not the kind to pinch pennies when it comes to her family. She would do anything for us, just as we would do anything for her, and when she is given a generous gift, she wants to make sure she takes the time to send out a proper "Thank You."



So we drove to Hallmark. And she perused the card section. And she scoffed at all the pictures of puppies and kittens. “I don’t want something with a cat on it!” she said. And so I led her to where there were some packages of Thank You cards that were devoid of such offensive artwork. But they were too “ugly.” Or they included the word “gratitude,” and she made it plain that she was not looking to express “Gratitude.” “What is it with all this talk of gratitude! I just want a simple Thank You card.” Messages like “Your thoughtfulness warms my heart” and “It meant more than you know” were not at all the sentiment she wished to express. “You have to read the message,” she told me. “There are different kinds of Thank You cards out there. You have to buy the right one.”


We left the store with Grammy going on about how disappointed she was in Hallmark. “It’s not the same Hallmark I once knew.”



We ended up at the Dollar Tree. At first, it was more of the same. Any card that made mention of “Your kind deed” was out. “I’m not thanking them for a deed!” Once again, you had to read between the lines and see what it was the card was actually saying.


She did finally find a package of blank cards with a couple of butterflies on the front. “I’ll just write my own message,” she conceded. “I’m not gonna bother with theirs.”


So that’s the story of how we started out with the noblest of intentions, only to end up paying the bare minimum.


But hey, it’s the correctly expressed thought that counts!

The Fall of Summer

 I love Fall. I always have. These are the things I love about Fall.

1. Thinking about apple-picking (but not actually doing it)
2. Little pumpkins
3. Eating DiGiorno

4. Fall-scented candles

5. People bitchin' about Columbus Day on Facebook
6. The neighbor's lawn decorations down the street
7. Slasher movie marathons
8. Daylight Savings Time

9. Little turkey cookies

10. Taking Black Friday off from work

And the list goes on...

People may think my love of Autumn is weird. After all, Autumn is when the leaves fall from the trees and everything starts to die. Autumn reminds me of the Fall of Paradise, which some may think is a bad thing, but I think is a good thing. Cos’ Paradise was a lie.

Plus, I've always been a bit Emo.

More Bad Thoughts on a Monday Morning

I need to be more pessimistic.  Maybe then things will work out.

I find that the more I fear something will happen, the less likely it is that it will.  There seems to be this direct correlation between negative energy and positive outcomes for me.  The last time I really dreaded something, it didn’t happen.  It almost did, but there was some lame-ass excuse for why it didn‘t.  And I got this peaceful feeling as though I’d just dodged a bullet.  I thanked God for my negative thinking and my pessimistic approach to life.  And I thanked God for lame-ass excuses.

My mother once said to me, “Usually your greatest fears never come true.”

I think what she means is that I need to have bad thoughts more often.

I Unsubscribed To a Girl on Facebook the Other Day

*Here is a fictional piece I just wrote that seems to fit in with the mood of my blog.  I used characters from my interconnected short story collection which I've been working on for the past few years.*


I unsubscribed to a girl on Facebook the other day. She was posting statuses I didn’t like --- talking about the upcoming weekend and how much fun she was gonna have. Screw that! I don’t need to read that shit!

I feel like I should give a little bit of history here so that you’ll fully appreciate exactly what it was that this so-called woman did that really cramped my style.

We met through a mutual friend.  Let me clarify.  This mutual friend was actually the unrequited love of my life.  He and I had grown up in the same town and gone to high school together.  We'd dated off and on for two years.  This girl was some chick he'd just met at the video store where he worked.  Apparently she was a valued customer.  How nice!

She was the one who added me on Facebook.  I didn't want to be rude. 


And then, a few days after we met, she had to go and post this as her status update.

“I can’t wait till Saturday night. Saturday night is gonna be so much fun ;) !!!

I get this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

Could it be?  No.  No way.  I laugh to myself when I think about how disappointed this girl is gonna be when she finds out what my ex-boyfriend is really like.  In fact, he's probably already dumped her ass.  I'm clearly being paranoid.

Yet the bad feeling stays.

I wait for her Facebook updates so that I can ease my mind of this crushing fear and innate knowledge that something is very much indeed rotten in the state of Denmark. Maybe she’ll finally come out and admit that the exciting time she is so looking forward to is some got-damned barbeque at her aging grandfather’s house. Maybe he’s serving up her favorite dish special --- pigs in a blanket.
Anyway, I don’t get my wish.  Instead, on 1 am on Sunday morning, she posts only this:

☺

I snap.   Oh no, you didn't.  Bitch is going down!

I click on the right hand corner of the post and select “unsubscribe.” I am asked if this is what I really want to do. I click “yes.”

Her post mercifully slinks back into the Facebook Hell she crawled out of.

I am free.

Relief washes over me.

Good, I think.  That's done.


A week goes by and because I’m am such a weak-willed loser, I go to her profile to see what that silly little girl has been up to these days.

This is her most recent post.

Can’t wait till Saturday! 

My God, this woman is incorrigible. She must be some kind of sex machine, geared up to go off on the weekends.

I rant about it to my best friend over the phone the next day. I relate back the whole sordid tale.

“And on Sunday morning, she posted a smiley face,” I said.

My friend is silent for a moment.  “What kind of woman is she?” she finally says.

I agree. What kind of woman is she?