The GQ+A: A Woman Analyzes Fifty Shades of Grey With Her Vagina

The GQ+A: A Woman Analyzes Fifty Shades of Grey With Her Vagina

Once upon a time there lived a mousy virgin named Anastasia Steele. She was a big fan of the core monosyllabic question words of what, why, and how. Sometimes she asked “Where?” But not often. Her life was hard. She’s kinda broke. Also, you try being a virgin with a porn star name like Anastasia Steele. But then one day she meets a very handsome, very rich business man named Christian Grey, who is a total sociopath, naturally. He wants to bone her. But in a weird way that he won’t explain, even though it’s 2015 and even your grandma has a pair of nipple clamps in her nightstand. One night at a bar she faints and she wakes up at Christian Grey’s house in one of his T-shirts. “You undressed me?” she asks, in a moment of rare wordiness. He replies, “Yes.” (More like _Fifty Shades of Grey …Rape _AMIRITE?) And so begins their laughably dumb sadomasochistic fairy tale.

But then again, this is my mind talking. And minds are not really the target demo here. You don’t pay $14 to go see Fifty Shades of Grey in a crowded movie theater full of horny housewives and intellectualize the experience. This isn’t a movie for your mind. It is a movie for your vagina. Maybe your mom’s vagina too. Remember that R. Kelly song that goes “My mind’s telling me no/but my body/my body’s telling me yes.”? That is the Fifty Shades of Grey moviegoing experience to a tee. Or to a vee, rather. So I deferred to the expert and checked in with my vagina after the movie. And, hooboy, she fucking loved it.
Soooo… what did you think?

Oooohhhohohohohhohohohohooooohweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

No way.

Yes way! I was literally on the edge of my seat the entire time! That was partly because you kept leaning forward and putting your head in your hands, but still.
I don’t care about journalistic integrity. I’m not against it. I just never really think about it.

But even the sex stuff is absurd! Dude has a “playroom” full of whips and handcuffs that looks like the haunted red room from _Jane Eyre. _Not to mention their S&M stuff, which is supposed to be so intense it requires written consent, amounts to him tying her to a bed, blindfolding her, and kiss-swapping some white wine into her mouth.
Lauren, you’re forgetting about the peacock feather.

Oh yeah, get ready for some pain! I’m going to brush an exotic peacock feather slowly up and down your body. You won’t be able to walk for days! This is hardcore shit!

I liked the feather. A lot.

Jesus. And the ice cube? I was laughing. He could hardly hold it in his mouth.

I liked the ice cube.

But what about all the gifts? He essentially buys her consent with a brand new Ford Focus. Which is just wrong on the obvious level, but also even more wrong because he has a garage full of Audis. Like if you’re going to give your sex slave a car, maybe pick something that’s not so economical? Also he buys her a new laptop, but never replaces her flip phone. That seems misguided.

I thought the compact sedan was a nice shade of orange.
I feel like I don’t even know who you are.

Look, I like what I like. That’s just the way it is. There’s not room for argument. It’s not something you can analyze. It just is.

But good taste has to count for something. I mean, you go into a tizzy at the mere mention of The Notebook. Also weirdly whenever I order a burrito at Chipotle.

Those burritos are so damn girthy.

Were you even listening to the dialogue in this movie?

Not really. But I do vividly remember Mr. Grey saying, “I don’t make love… I fuck, hard.”