My personal experience with Fifty Shades of Grey went something like this:

Because I don’t live under a rock, I’d heard whispers about it.  I was mildly intrigued, as most people would be upon hearing that word porn had somehow managed to become a socially acceptable bestseller (as an aside, once I overheard a classmate telling our elderly male prof that she had read it on her tablet in bed…like, he knows what it is! It’s not a secret!).  I had the distinctly awkward experience of noticing that my mother owned all three books, and the distinctly awkward-er experience of witnessing my mother lending the books to my grandmother.  One day, when I was alone in my mom’s bathroom, I noticed it on the bathtub ledge.  Curiosity got the best of me, and I flipped open the first page. Continue reading “fifty shades of absolutely not” →