Christian Grey, Mistress of Pain

 

So Chapter Seven is actually pretty short, but it does contain some hilarity.

When we finished Chapter Six, Anastasia was staring in shock at Christian Grey’s playroom, mostly because her stupid ass thought he meant this:

And she got this:

SURPRISE!

She’s the only one surprised, but hey…

She takes in all the, uh… implements… and still doesn’t blush. Ladies and gentlemen, I think she’s cured! Or in shock. Whatever.

By the way, is it… weird… that I kind of envy Christian’s assortment? I mean, he’s got paddles and whips and chains—oh, my!

Oh, and I love that Anastasia knows what a cat o’nine tails is, but has no idea what sex or masturbation is. Perhaps this is a match made in make-me-puke heaven.

But no, it isn’t… Because Anastasia is annoyingly judgey, and while I don’t know what’s up with Christian yet, I hate hate hate that she calls him a freak (or “freaky.” Whatever) and makes all these assumptions about people who subscribe to this kind of lifestyle. I see you there hiding behind your dumbass protagonist, James, and FUCK YOU VERY MUCH.

Anastasia finally snaps out of her—I don’t know, is it catatonia?—and asks Christian what da fuck’s up with this lovely room of pain, and Christian comes out of the dungeon—so to speak—as a Dom (that’s clickable, by the way. So’s this). He tells her that he wants to play with her, and that he wants her to please him. Slightly douchey way of putting it, but hey—that’s Christian, baby. He’s an experience.

He then mentions that there are rules. And yes, there are rules. Always. This is supposed to be fun, not scary… I’ve heard.

Anyway, the deal’s this: Christian gets Anastasia as a sub, and Anastasia gets to ride the Christian train to Pleasure Town. Simple, right?

He then shows her what would be her room if she accepts, then does that thing where he tells her she has to eat. They go back downstairs and Christian offers to answer any questions Anastasia might have. Which is nice, sure, but… I mean, she can’t just ask him. I mean, she should research pretty fucking thoroughly—especially since she’s… I don’t wanna say “dim.” Actually, I do wanna say “dim.”

Things we find out in the Q&A session:

• Christian fucking loves paperwork.
• Christian has a housekeeper named Mrs. Jones. (Great. Now I have “Me and Mrs. Jones” in my head.)
• Anastasia will eat.
• Anastasia will hang on to her free will for a bit longer, if that’s okay with Christian.
• Christian has had fifteen women.
• Christian will punish Anastasia when she requires it, and it will be painful.
• Christian has been beaten.

It is at this point that Christian takes Anastasia into the study and hands her a copy of the rules (which are subject to change—like event times or work schedules) and a contract, which he orders her to read (don’t worry, I’ll include some of them in my brand new sub-heading).

Anastasia begins to negotiate (this is so romantic, you guys, you have no idea) some of the rules and then we get to Christian’s hard limits. Hehe, “hard.” …Yes, I am twelve.

He then asks Anastasia if she would like to add anything to the list of hard limits, and this is when Christian finds out that Anastasia’s a virgin. And then, further proof that Christian is a cockface:

“ ‘You’re a virgin?’ he breathes. I nod, flushing again. He closes his eyes and looks to be counting to ten. When he opens them again, he’s angry, glaring at me. ‘Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?’ he growls.”

… Because it’s none of your fucking business, fuckface, and you’ve only known each other a few days. Am I the only one who even remembers that?!

Ugh. Christian gives me murdery feelings.

 

Sexy Tiems of the Rich and Creepy

1. “Sleep:

The Submissive will ensure she achieves a minimum of seven hours sleep a night when she is not with the Dominant.”

Um… okay? What if she’s an insomniac? What if she’s narcoleptic? What if she sleeps upside down like a bat and has to wake up when all the blood rushes to her head?

2. “Food:

The Submissive will eat regularly to maintain her health and wellbeing from a prescribed list of foods (Appendix 4). The Submissive will not snack between meals, with the exception of fruit.”

 

(LOVE that that says “ew moon,” by the way. GOOD.)

3. “Personal Safety:

The Submissive will not drink to excess (reviewer: Welp… I’m out), smoke, take recreational drugs, or put herself in any unnecessary danger.”

Um… Did Christian forget that he’s courting Miss Walks Out Into Traffic Randomly?!

4. “Hard Limits

No acts involving fire play

No acts involving urination or defecation and the products thereof

No acts involving needles, knives, piercing, or blood

No acts involving gynecological medical instruments

No acts involving children or animals

No acts that will leave any permanent marks on the skin

No acts involving breath control”

…I’ll remember that “no blood” thing.

 

Fucking English, how does it work?

1. “Okay, I understand the pleasing bit, but I am puzzled by the soft-boudoir-Elizabethan-torture set up.”

… She does this to annoy me, right? This whole describe-things-with-unnecessary-hyphenation thing?

2. “Kate had said he was dangerous, she was so right. How did she know?”

She has eyes.

3. “ ‘No. I told you, I don’t sleep with anyone, except you, when you’re stupefied with drink.’ His eyes are reprimanding.”

Hey, Christian?

 

4. “This is what I cannot reconcile. Kind, caring Christian, who rescues me from inebriation and holds me gently while I’m throwing up into the azaleas, and the monster who possesses whip and chains in a special room.”

How’s that judging thing working out for you, fuckknuckle? Good? Great.

5. “ ‘I’m not sure about accepting money for clothes. It feels wrong.’ I shift uncomfortably, the word ‘ho’ rattling round my head.”

That feels wrong? Seriously?

And hey, fuck you for that “ho” comment.

 

Shut the fuck up, Anastasia

“Please him! He wants me to please him! I think my mouth drops open. Please Christian Grey. And I realize, in that moment, that yes, that’s exactly what I want to do. I want him to be damned delighted with me. It’s a revelation.”

… No, it’s not. Also?

 

(Love you, Rory!)

 

Christian Grey, Deep Thinker

“ ‘Why is anyone the way they are? That’s kind of hard to answer. Why do some people like cheese and other people hate it? Do you like cheese?’”

LMAOMG

This may be my favorite Christian quote so far…

We need to get some money together so that we can buy Anastasia a clue, ‘cause… Damn.

 

So… yeah. They kissed and shit. It was glorious in the way that’s… not.

Anyway, Chapter Six in Fifty Shades of Douche starts with Christian about to drive Anastasia home. Anastasia feels like a big girl now ‘cause she got kissed, whereas Christian is his normal, prickish self.

This confuses Anastasia, of course, because I don’t think there are pricks on the planet she comes from. Yes, I also mean “prick” as in “penis.”

Hey, guys, this is Christian’s car:

This is Christian’s driving music:

The comments on this video are fucking depressing, by the way.

Christian, on his musical taste:

“My taste is eclectic, Anastasia, everything from Thomas Tallis to the Kings of Leon. It depends on my mood(read: I listen to Creed).”

And, when Anastasia says she’s never heard of Thomas Tallis (no one has, sweetie): “I’ll play it for you sometime. He’s a sixteenth century British composer. Tudor, church choral music.”

Congratulations, Christian! You win a prize!

After he’s done impressing Anastasia with the car commercial music, he puts on Kings of Leon. Personally, I think he just wants to impress her with all the buttons he can press.

Christian, pictured here:

He presses a few more buttons when he gets like, three phone calls in a row—he’s a very important man, don’tcha know—and we learn that “the NDA” was emailed to him and that Christian’s brother Elliot is a lot more likable than Christian himself—not that that’s a huge achievement or nothin’, I’m just sayin’.

After that, Anastasia tells Christian that she prefers to be called “Ana” (tough titties, shitbrick) and Christian deliberately ignores her. Because he’s a great guy. Also, he controls everything. If you didn’t know from the seventy billion times Anastasia says it, then you do now.

He then informs her that kissing like what happened in the elevator won’t happen unless it’s “premeditated,” which leads me to believe that making out with Christian requires strategy meetings with maps and shit, like when you’re gonna invade a country.

Second Base with Christian:

They arrive at Anastasia and Kate’s apartment, then walk in to find a happy morning-after Kate and Elliot.

Elliot continues to be warm and friendly, hugging Anastasia hello and deflating his brother’s doucheballoon a little (fuck you, spellcheck. If I want to make “doucheballoon” a word, I will, dammit).

Elliot gives Kate a fantastic goodbye kiss while Anastasia seethes with jealousy, then tries to pretend it’s ‘cause Christian doesn’t kiss her the same way.

Elliot finishes his kiss with a “laters, baby,” which is sort of kind of cute, but then Christian tries to say it, too, and it just ruins it.

Fucking Christian is a life-ruiner.

So the brothers leave, and Kate asks if Anastasia got laid, too. Anastasia says no (actually, she snaps at Kate because she’s obviously still jealous of Elliot), but then says that she’ll have another chance at Dat Ass later that night.

Kate offers to get Anastasia all prettied up for her date and—wait a minute. I thought Christian was “dangerous,” Kate? And that you didn’t trust him?

I think E.L. James skipped the “character consistency” chapter in Writing Shitty Fanfic for Dummies.

Anyway, Anastasia goes to work, and blah blah blah oops, it’s time for Christian to pick her up.

He asks her how her day was, though clearly not a one of us—including Christian—really care, and mentions that he went hiking with Elliot.

Then we find out that Anastasia has no idea how helicopters work, is distracted by elevators ‘cause Christian kissed her in one, and that she doesn’t get the concept of “owning a company.”

Christian gets all creepy when he secures Anastasia’s safety harness, saying that she’s secure and that there’s “no escaping” and adding that he likes this harness.

WARNING

 

He then assures her that she’s safe with him… while they’re flying, anyway.

 

Anyway, Christian explains how helicopters fly at night (because as we all know, Anastasia is painfully stupid), then admits that she is the first woman he let in his newfangled flying machine. Anastasia is predictably flattered.

Then Anastasia muses that Seattle looks like a set from Blade Runner (or, as she puts it, Bladerunner), which is José’s favorite movie. She then feels a little cruel for not calling José back even though she’s not obligated to and even though he was a fuckface who deserves to be punished.

Soon after this Christian lands the helicopter safely (dammit) and he assures Anastasia that she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to. It’s a strange time to say it, but cool. This is good. You’re right, Christian.

Of course, Anastasia being the dumbass that she is, tells Christian that she’d never do anything she didn’t want to while admitting to herself that she’d probably do anything for him anyway.

A man who she met—what? Three, four days ago? A man who treats her like an idiot child and who passed Stalking 101 with flying colors. A man she knows nothing about.

Then it’s time for a tour of Christian’s home/lair!

Anastasia describes it all, but I won’t repeat it because I value the sanity I have left. It’s big and douchey. ‘Nuff said.

Oh, and there’s a piano.

And it all makes Anastasia horny, too, though she surprisingly doesn’t blush once. I think maybe we’re making progress!

After a talk about Tess of the Urbervilles (seriously, is that the only book this bitch has ever read?!) and how there’s a parallel between it and this, the romance of the ages, Christian fetches the non-disclosure agreement.

It states that she can never say anything about her “relationship” with Christian to anyone. Not one thing.

… I don’t know about you, but I’d be out of that fucking Douche Palace so fast it would look like I teleported.

Anastasia, however, signs immediately. I-fucking-mmediately. She doesn’t even read it. Even after Christian correctly points out that you should never sign something you haven’t read first.

I just… Wh—WHAT THE FUCK.

She says it’s because she wouldn’t say anything to anyone anyway so it doesn’t matter if she signs or not (her stupidity is giving me heartburn. Not even kidding).

And apparently, Christian’s moment of logic is over, because he says that’s a “fair point well made.” Um, no dickhead. No, it’s not. It is a fucktarded point fucktardedly made.

It is then that we find out why she really signed: she thought it would get her laid.

Jesus jumping rope on a Saltine, I HAVE HAD IT WITH THIS STUPID SHIT

Christian then wants to show Anastasia his playroom.

DUN DUN DUN… to be continued. Unfortunately.

 

Fucking English, how does it work?

1. “Why won’t he kiss me again? I pout at the thought. I don’t understand. Honestly, his surname should be Cryptic, not Grey.”

Good one! Except no. No, it’s not. Idiot.

2. “I wanted to run my fingers through his decadent, untidy hair, but I’d been unable to move my hands. I am retrospectively frustrated.”

I am currently annoyed. Points to the first person who can explain to me how hair can be decadent. Is it hair made out of chocolate? Perhaps it’s velvet? Or maybe it’s hedonistic and exemplifies the decay of civilized society with its loose morals?

3. “Elliot follows him to the car but turns and blows Kate another kiss, and I feel an unwelcome pang of jealousy.”

AHA! Fucking called it.

4. “After all this time (read: less than a week), am I ready for this? My inner goddess glares at me, tapping her small foot impatiently.”

Okay, this “inner goddess” bullshit is definitely gonna put me in a baby-punching mood.

5. “He nods curtly at his driver, and we head into the building, straight to a set of elevators. Elevator!”

6. “And there it is, a white helicopter with the name Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc. written in blue with the company logo on the side. Surely this is misuse of Company property.”

Surely it must be! Someone should tell the CEO! …Oh, wait.

7. “His look is so intense, half in shadow and half in bright white light from the landing lights. Dark knight and white knight, it’s a fitting metaphor for Christian.”

I do so love when authors point out their metaphors for me because I’m stupid and couldn’t possibly be trusted to find them myself. Also: no, it’s not.

8. “He drags me over to an elevator shaft (reviewer: quick, asshole, push her in!) and, after tapping a number into a keypad, the doors open. It’s warm inside and all mirrored glass. I can see Christian to infinity (reviewer: and beyond?) everywhere I look, and the wonderful thing is, he’s holding me to infinity too.”

Oh, Anastasia. Do shut up.

9. “Room is the wrong word. It’s not a room—it’s a mission statement.”

10. “But why are we looking at a playroom? I am mystified. ‘You want to play on your Xbox?’ I ask.”

 

Shut the fuck up, Anastasia

“It hardly seems real, my first proper no-holds-barred kiss. As time ticks on, I assign it mythical, Arthurian legend, Lost City of Atlantis status.”

 

Christian Grey, Smooth Talker

“No, Anastasia it doesn’t. Firstly, I don’t make love. I fuck… hard. Secondly, there’s a lot more paperwork to do, and thirdly, you don’t yet know what you’re in for. You could still run for the hills. Come, I want to show you my playroom.”

Great. Since I have a hangover, I have something in common with Anastasia now.

 

So after Anastasia’s bender the night before, Señor Creepstalker (not to be confused with Señor Fuckface—that’s José) takes her back to his suite at the Heathman Hotel. He was even nice enough to undress her and tuck her in. Oh, and he gave her orange juice and Advil.

By the way, Anastasia is freakishly into orange juice:

“The orange juice tastes divine. It’s thirst quenching and refreshing. Nothing beats freshly squeezed orange juice for reviving an arid mouth.”

Anastasia, pictured here:

After the inexplicable orange juice commercial, a freshly worked-out Christian walks in to the room, which—of course. Anastasia admires his sweat pants “that hang, in that way, off his hips” and has to compose herself because Christian’s sweat does “odd things” to her. Ew. Also, what way? Does she mean they’re baggy? Baggy pants turn her on? I hereby invite Anastasia to my neighborhood (note: don’t come to my neighborhood, Anastasia).

Anastasia briefly wonders if she and Christian had sex while she was passed out (fyi: that’s rape, Christian, not necrophilia) and when he says no in a naturally douchey way, Anastasia gets pissed that he’s amused at her—I don’t even know why; he wears his doucheyness like a douchey Mexican serape—and calls him out for stalking her like a big stalking stalker.

Then—no lie—Christian fucking Grey calls himself a dark knight.

Christian… pictured here?

 

Okay, look, fucker: I know the Dark Knight. The Dark Knight is a very good friend of mine. You, sir, are no Dark Knight. So

And then, because his prickery has not yet reached critical mass, he tells Anastasia that she’s lucky that he’s scolding her instead of punishing her! Lucky! Fucking lucky!

I’m sorry… did I miss the part where Christian married Anastasia’s mother and became her fucking father? No?

THEN FUCK RIGHT OFF CHRISTIAN IN YOUR NO-DOUBT DOUCHETASTIC FUCKING CAR

Just—where is the part where I fall irrevocably in love with Christian Grey? Because I’ll be honest: it doesn’t look very fucking likely.

At first, Anastasia is as outraged as I am at his presumption, but then her horniness takes over at the thought of being “his” and her brain shrinks two sizes smaller. I’ve had it up to here with this chick’s permissiveness, you guys just don’t know.

Anyway, she finally figures out what desire feels like (*eyeroll*) and muses that Christian is a white knight, which—let me take this opportunity and snort. Bitch, you need to get out more.

She almost masturbates in the shower—if she had, it would’ve made all our lives so much easier—and then puts on brand-new clothes that Christian’s driver/valet/butler/possible future murderer went out to buy her.

“I inspect the bag of jeans. Not only has Taylor brought me jeans and new Converse (reviewer’s despair: NOOOOOOOO! You are not allowed to wear Converse! Converse are for cool people!), but a pale blue shirt, socks, and underwear. Oh my. A clean bra and panties—actually to describe them in such a mundane, utilitarian way does not do them justice. They are an exquisite design of some fancy European lingerie. All pale blue lace and finery. Wow. I am in awe and slightly daunted by this underwear.”

… It’s underwear. Get a fucking grip, lady.

After that, it’s breakfast time!

Breakfast, as so many other things are with these two, is awkward.

Things we learn during breakfast with Christian and Anastasia:

• Anastasia’s hair is very damp.
• Christian Grey buys things because he can.
• Christian Grey doesn’t do romance. (Frankly, I’m shocked.)
• Christian Grey is not celibate. (See above, re: shocked.)
• Kate and Anastasia are moving to Seattle together to continue their romance.
• Christian Grey would like to bite that lip.
• Christian Grey has a helicopter.
• Christian Grey has “an issue” with wasted food.
• Anastasia has a problem with her brain being missing. (Not in the book, just a general observation.)

Anastasia and Christian also negotiate a second “date” in which Anastasia will probably have to sign legal documents. Be still my heart.

After breakfast Anastasia decides to go brush her teeth with Christian Grey’s toothbrush, which actually made me physically ill. I realize it’s not grosser than having someone’s tongue in your mouth, but still… Gross.

And speaking of tongues being in other people’s mouths, the chapter closes with Anastasia and Christian having an admittedly kinda hot first kiss.

… Then Christian talks and ruins the entire thing. As fucking usual.

 

Fucking English, how does it work?

1. “ ‘After you passed out, I didn’t want to risk the leather upholstery in my car taking you all the way to your apartment. So I brought you here,’ he says phlegmatically.”

ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHH. You can say “calmly.” Or “without emotion.” You don’t have to fucking use a word that you thought was clever in the thesaurus just ‘cause. Especially when that fucking word has “phlegm” in it! Fucking dolt.

2. “ ‘Firstly, the technology to track cell phones is available over the Internet. Secondly, my company does not invest or manufacture any kind of surveillance devices, and thirdly, if I hadn’t come to get you, you’d probably be waking up in the photographer’s bed, and from what I can remember, you weren’t overly enthused about him pressing his suit,’ he says acidly.”

Firstly, that still makes you a fucking stalker. Secondly, what does your company do?! And thirdly, NO ONE TALKS THIS WAY. No one who was born after 1899 fucking talks this way. WHO ARE YOU?!

3. “ ‘Well, if you were mine (reviewer’s note: Dude.), you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday. You didn’t eat, you got drunk, you put yourself at risk.’”

… I’m sorry, when exactly did this turn into victim-blaming bullshit?

4. “Hmm… young José. I’ll need to face him at some point. ‘José just got out of line.’ I shrug.”

I have never wanted to slap a fictional character as much as I do right now. And what’s with this “young José” fuckery? What are you, ninety?!

5. “He’s the only man who has ever set my blood racing around my body. Yet, he’s so antagonizing, too; he’s difficult, complicated, and confusing.”

*Antagonistic, you damned twit.

6. “I brusquely towel-dry my hair and try desperately to bring it under control. But, as usual, it refuses to cooperate, and my only option is to restrain it with a hair tie. I shall search in my purse, when I find it.”

Shall you, then?

7. “ ‘I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered a selection from the breakfast menu.’ He gives me a crooked, apologetic smile. ‘That’s very profligate of you,’ I murmur, bewildered by the choice, though I am hungry.”

See, this is why some people shouldn’t be given access to thesauruses. Thesauri. What the fuck ever. STOP USING WORDS YOU DON’T KNOW. WE CAN ALWAYS TELL. FUCK

8. “ ‘Your hair’s very damp,’ he scolds.”

Well, yeah, she just took a shower, genius. Also, I have now had it with fucking Christian fucking scolding people. Asshole.

9. “Where is he going with all these questions? The Christian Grey Inquisition is almost as irritating as the Katherine Kavanaugh Inquisition.”

You’re all fucking irritating to me.

10. “ ‘And what’s wrong with my company?’ ‘Your company or your Company?’ I smirk.”

You’re not witty, Anastasia. Stop trying to be witty.

11. “Holy shit. What does that mean? Does he white-slave small children to some Godforsaken part of the planet?”

12. “I eye Christian’s toothbrush. It would be like having him in my mouth. Hmm… Glancing guiltily over my shoulder at the door, I feel the bristles on the toothbrush. They are damp. He must have used it already. Grabbing it quickly, I squirt toothpaste on it and brush my teeth in double quick time. I feel so naughty. It’s such a thrill.”

Also? EWWWWWWWWWW

13. “ ‘You. Are. So. Sweet,’ he murmurs, each word a staccato.”

Don’t use words you don’t understand, please.

14. “Oh, he’s affected, all right—and my very small inner goddess sways in a gentle victorious samba.”

Fabulous—a new personality.

 

Shut the fuck up, Anastasia

“One minute he rebuffs me, the next he sends me fourteen-thousand-dollar books, then he tracks me like a stalker. And for all that, I have spent the night in his hotel suite, and I feel safe. Protected. He cares enough to come and rescue me from some mistakenly (reviewer’s note: you have GOT to be kidding me) perceived danger. He’s not a dark knight at all, but a white knight in shining, dazzling armor—a classic romantic hero—Sir Gawain or Lancelot.”

 

Christian Grey, Theology Scholar

“ ‘Like Eve, you’re so quick to eat from the tree of knowledge,’ he smirks.”

Okay, now you’re startin’ to piss me off, you piddly sumbitch.

 

Believe it or not, Chapter Four starts off promisingly. After nearly getting run over by a cyclist (Team Cyclist Heading The Wrong Way Up a One-Way Street!), Anastasia is so busy hoping-wishing-begging that Christian will kiss her (silently, of course, because good girls don’t ask for what they want) that she temporarily forgets how to breathe.

Meanwhile, I’m hoping-wishing-begging out loud that Anastasia dies from oxygen deprivation:

…I mean, it’s only fair.

Oh, and then, to make the moment perfect, Christian says the smartest thing anyone’s ever said in this book so far:

“Anastasia, you should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you.”

Preach it, you scary motherfucker, preach!

… And then they both ruin it. Christian by telling Anastasia to breathe and Anastasia by not dying.

My hopes… My dreams… Shattered.

Oh, well. After that lovely interlude where I had just started to regain some semblance of hope, we get to see Anastasia castigate herself for Christian not kissing her (because she’s responsible for what he does and doesn’t do, like a good little woman… Excuse me, I’m going to be sick). It’s the usual, really: She’s too stupid, awkward, unpretty, crap at reading signals, inexperienced, desperate… Her “subconscious” really tears into her.

She can’t read signals, by the way, since Christian looks “desolate” as he wishes her luck on her exams, so obviously he’s trying to be a good boy, Anastasia, for chrissake. Or maybe he’s upset that he’s in this book at all? Both are valid interpretations.

Oh, and we have to add one more guy to the “in love with Anastasia for some ungodly reason” list: Random Guy in Chemistry Class. So to recap: Anastasia is “too pale, too skinny, too scruffy, uncoordinated” as well as brick-stupid, yet she’s never been rejected (…until now. High-five, Christian! ) and she has no less than four guys interested in her untouched hoohah… My god, Anastasia. How do you ever deal with the torment.

 

 

Granted, 75% of those guys are certified creepers, but still. You’re not an unlovable monster, Anastasia, kindly get the fuck out of here with that bullshit.

She shares her crushing disappointment with Kate—although I think she would get over it a lot better if she just makes out with Kate after confessing her love, but what do I know? I’m not a bestselling author—and then wonders if Christian is celibate before falling asleep and dreaming of stupid shit. Yeah. Christian is celibate. Because nothing says “monastery living” like ropes, cable ties, and masking tape.

So anyway. After that fuckery’s done with, we get to see Anastasia finish her last exam ever and she says she smiles for the first time that week. Actually, she says she feels “the Cheshire cat grin” spread over her face.

Anastasia pictured here:

 

 

… Ooh, girl, you need to look after your teeth!

Then Kate and Anastasia head home for some celebratory sex, but are distracted by a mysterious package for Anastasia.

Turns out Christian, sticking to his guns and not encouraging Anastasia’s affections at all, has sent her a box of three first edition Tess of the D’Urbervilles, which are apparently worth more than $14,000. I admire your fortitude, Christian. Also, your willingness to spend so much money on a book that Anastasia may be totally sick of. Or not know how to read.

Anastasia resolves to send the books back to Christian and sets out to get fucked up with Kate and her Hispanic friend José. We know José is Hispanic, because he brought margaritas to the party and says “dios mio” a lot.

José also turns out to be a gigantic douchebag of Christian Grey proportions… But we’re getting there.

First, we have to deal with the fact that Anastasia has never drunk before, yet is still conscious after champagne and five margaritas.

Yeeeeeah, not unless she’s Bender, the alcoholic robot.

Anastasia, pictured here?

So then Anastasia pervs on Kate a bit, then decides she needs to go potty. While she’s waiting in line, she decides to drunk dial Christian which is actually sort of hilarious… except then it leads to Christian being a big ol’ stalker again.

Which is good (something I never thought I’d ever say about stalking… fuck you, E.L. James), because José morphs into a cockbag and tries to kiss Anastasia against her will. It is at this exact moment that I realized that E.L. James wants me to hate every single person in this book.

For once, I’m not side-eyeing Anastasia, because she does nothing wrong. In fact, I feel all this secondhand discomfort and I just wanna stab José in the eye with a drink stirrer because WHAT THE FUCK ASSHOLE.

Anyway, then Christian shows up—like a bat, one could say—and rescues Anastasia… Just in time, too, ‘cause Anastasia go boom.

All that lovely frosty nectar comes up, and Anastasia just spews all over the place as Christian holds her hair and José (best. Friend. Ever.) watches, then escapes back into the bar.

Then Christian fucking ruins it more by treating Anastasia like a fucking child.

… I mean, seriously? The chick’s sick and has just been attacked by a friend, and you wanna fucking scold her?!

Go die in a gas fire, Christian, quick as you can.

Then he admits he tracked her cell phone, and Anastasia (‘s “subconscious”) and I say the exact same thing at the exact same moment for the first time ever:

STALKER.

Who does this shit?! Who likes when someone does this shit?! People get restraining orders for less!

But apparently, we’re not dealing with any of it right now, because Anastasia is too out of it to protest as Christian continues to baby her. He makes her drink a glass of water (the right thing to do, if a little douchily done) and then makes her dance (which I don’t—I don’t even fucking know what or why) until she passes out in his arms.

The chapter closes on Christian’s (and my) “fuck!”

 

Fucking English, how does it work?

1. “I’m paralyzed with a strange, unfamiliar need, completely captivated by him.”

Redundant adjectives are redundant.

2. “NO! My psyche screams as he pulls away, leaving me bereft.”

Oh, yay, a new one. At least her subconscious isn’t alone in there.

3. “I have royally screwed up the coffee morning.”

… Shut up. Just shut up.

4. “I sink to the ground, angry at myself for this senseless reaction. Drawing up knees, I fold in on myself. I want to make myself as small as possible. Perhaps this nonsensical pain will be smaller the smaller I am. Placing my head on my knees, I let the irrational tears fall unrestrained. I am crying over the loss of something I never had. How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was—my dashed hopes, dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.”

For god’s sake, woman, he didn’t kiss you after one date. He didn’t leave you at the altar. Yikes.

And if E.L. James keeps abusing that poor thesaurus, I’m gonna have to perform a citizen’s arrest.

5. “ ‘Sure,’ I magic a smile on to my face and stroll over to the laptop.”

“Magic” a smile? Does this involve white doves and a lovely assistant?

6. “ ‘Open it!’ Kate is excited as she heads into the kitchen for our ‘Exams are finished hurrah Champagne’.”

I will never understand why this woman just can’t keep a fucking sentence simple. You’re not clever. Stop trying to be clever. Fuck.

7. “ ‘Anastasia, where are you, tell me now.’ His tone is so, so dictatorial, his usual control freak. I imagine him as an old time movie director wearing jodhpurs, holding an old fashioned megaphone and a riding crop.”

8. “ ‘Please, Ana, cariña,’ he whispers against my lips.”

Okay, I wasn’t gonna pick anything from this scene because it skeeves the fuck out of me, but I would just like to tell E.L. James to stick to butchering her own language and leave mine the fuck alone. Thank you, and good night.

9. “My subconscious is figuratively tutting and glaring at me over her half moon specs.”

10. “In the back of my mind, my mother’s often-recited warning comes to me: Never trust a man who can dance.”

What? Why? Is this a thing I don’t know about?

 

Shut the fuck up, Anastasia

“And it’s suddenly, blindingly obvious. He’s too gloriously good-looking. We are poles apart and from two very different worlds. I have a vision of myself as Icarus flying too close to the sun and crashing and burning as a result.”

 

Christian Grey, AA Counselor

“ ‘We’ve all been here, perhaps not quite as dramatically as you,’ he says dryly. ‘It’s about knowing your limits, Anastasia. I mean, I’m all for pushing limits, but really this is beyond the pale. Do you make a habit of this kind of behavior?’”