Fifty Shades

... of erotic nonsense.

I had no intentions of reading the trilogy upon hearing public comments, being the prude girl that I am. I wasn't always this sensitive but when it's shown or published to give awe to a massive audience with almost non-existent age restrictions, the future parent inside me protrudes (though it will probably take me 7 years to actually become one, and another 9 or so before he/she starts to ask where babies come from). So far, I've read two whole consecutive chapters containing Anastasia's blunt statement of how she more than willingly gave up her cherry to be popped by Christian Grey, wildly and a little about this red room of pain of his. Apparently, he's some kind of a sadist. And while others celebrate the book, I'm struggling to finish it not wanting to get left behind. I sulk upon knowing how it lacks depth on so many levels. Contemporary love stories are almost always so squeamish. It makes me compare them to Jane Austen's writings. There was a total lack of intimacy in those works juxtaposed with the rate we are going now, but at least her books have a touch of character.

Boy, I sound boring. But this just isn't my cup of tea. I'm rooting for Matt Bomer to play the role of Christian Grey, but I can't even begin to picture what the movie's going to look like.