September #4: 50 Shades of GAH!

I've made a decision.  It's probably not the first time I've made this decision in my life, but it's been so long that I can't quite remember whether or not I have.

I've decided to walk away.

I've struggled and fought for days and weeks. I've begged and pleaded with myself to just push through.  I've tried to remind myself- over and over- that I am not a quitter...but the inevitable has finally happened...

I've given up, once and for all...

On a book.

That's right, kids.  After 248 ridiculously painful pages, I've decided to break up with 50 Shades of Grey. This may not seem like a huge deal to most people, but trust me- for those of us who struggle with OCD, this is actually a remarkable feat.

Now, before you get all high and mighty and reach any of fifty shades of self-rightousness for why I've decided to give up on the book, let me give you my very simple reasoning:

I just can't enjoy it.

We all (or at least, I "think" that we all...) acknowledge that the book isn't a brilliantly written piece of literature.  We're not dealing with the great American novel here, by any stretch. But that's not my problem. Hell, I read Twilight and made it through the entire series. I even watched the movies (but only with copious amounts of booze at my disposal).

Nor is it the fact that the book is inundated with graphic (but surprisingly boring) sex scenes that would make most puritans blush.  Nope, this "good girl" Catholic has no issues or reservation with liberal sexual practices between consenting adults.

It's not even the fact that the book is, for the most part, lacking in any sort of tangible plot and seems to take an eternity to get to a point...

No, my reasons for quitting are much more simple than that.

You see, I really like to read. A lot. It is one of my deepest joys in life.

And I simply can't enjoy this one.

So I have to quit, before I decide never to read again.

I don't find the characters entertaining or engaging.  I frankly couldn't less why Grey "is the way he is" or why Ana is so desperately naive that she can't help but succumb to his devastatingly handsome charming ways.

I don't care if their sex life is shocking. I don't even care if they have sex.  The very few times I've caught myself caring, it was usually because I was hoping Ana would die from asphyxiation at some point. (For the record, she doesn't...or at least she hasn't by page 248).

I have tried to convince myself to push through, thinking that I owe it to myself to at least finish what I've started. But the problem is that deep down inside I know that there are two sequels. Two. So "finishing what I started" would require me to subject myself to this painful agony twice more.

That's too much red room of pain for this lade.

Sometimes you need to know when to use your safety word.

Enough already.

Uncle, uncle, uncle!

Popsicles, dammit.

If I never have to read the words "Oh my" and "inner goddess" again, it will be too soon.

So, I'm tapping out of this one, before I spend even one more minute of my already too busy life wasting my time on fiction that I don't even find interesting.

And when the movie comes out, I can assure you that I'm going to skip that one too.

Unless they change the ending, and Ana asphyxiates. Then I might watch, if only to give myself the closure of knowing that this nightmare is finally over.

The end.

This post is part of my September Blog Challenge. I will be posting a new blog post on (at least) every other day of the month, for a total of no less than 15 posts throughout the month.  The purpose of this challenge is nothing more than to push myself to continue using writing as a way of releasing energy and opening my mind.