Fifty Shades of Grey · Writing

50 Shades of Grey Chapter 5 – Or, “The Longest Breakfast Ever”

“It’s very quiet. I am comfortable and warm, in this bed. Hmm… I open my eyes, and for a moment, I’m tranquil and serence, enjoying the strange unfamiliar surroundings.”


If you woke up in a strange bed, what would be your response? Ana, apparently, is ok with waking up in strange places. She feels the place is familiar, and her “befuddled” brain (that somehow managed to come up with a good paragraph’s-worth of description) “struggles through its recent visual memories.” I’m thinking that’s basically a more complicated way of saying, “I try to remember all the places I’ve been recently.” Also, the room is dark, yet Ana can tell the room is “plushly furnished in browns and golds and beige.”  Have you ever tried to tell the difference between light brown and beige and gold in the dark? Yeah. Not easy. Ana swears, and then realizes where she is – “the Heathman hotel… in a suite”. I’m not entirely sure why this bothers me. Partially I think because of the rampant use of ellipses (aka the dot dot dot) and partially because all this is going on upon waking up from a night where she literally passed out from drinking. She then realizes she’s in C.G’s suite. “Oh shit”.

Oh shit is right.

“Fractured memories of the previous night come slowly back to haunt me. The drinking, oh no the drinking, the phonecall, oh no the phone call, the vomiting, oh no the vomiting. José and Christian. Oh no. I cringe inwardly. I don’t remember coming here.

I’m wearing my t-shirt, bra, and panties. No socks. No jeans. Holy shit.”


Holy shit is right, yo. That place where she says, “I don’t remember coming here” is not a panty dropper to me. It’s a clue that something has gone horribly wrong and that someone has just gotten kidnapped. Also, waking up sans pants, even if he didn’t touch her still involved removing clothing.  Without her consent. Uncool, dude.

Ana glances at the bedside table, and we get a commercial for orange juice:

I glance at the bedside table. On it is a glass of orange juice and two tablets. Advil.

Control freak that he is, he thinks of everything. I sit up and take the tablets. Actually, I don’t feel that bad, probably much better than I deserve. The orange juice tastes divine.

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


So, first off, “control freak” doesn’t mean you think of everything, necessarily. Words mean things. What “control freak” tends to mean is that you have a deep seeded need to… you know, control things. To get things done your way. I’m sure one could argue that as a control freak one would have an intense need to nitpick all aspects of a situation to the point that you do think of everything, but geez. Way to hit the reader continually over the head with characterisation. I get it, EL. C.G. has control issues. Lemmie guess, because he has control issues, he’s into B&D, and D&S? That’s super creative. I love how she apparenly feels this deep seeded need to hit the reader over the head with description without actually giving relevant scenes which depict half the characteristics with which they’re associated. It’s super fun to read. /sarcasm.

(sidenote: if you were unaware, BDSM actually stands for Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, Sadism and Masochism)

In addition, if you woke up in a strange man’s hotel suite after blacking out drunk, would you honestly take pills and drink something that the person who brought you here, effectively against your will (recall, she told him not to come fetch her, and he said he would take her home), gave you? Where is Ana’s sense of self-preservation?

What the shit, by the way, is with the, “I don’t feel that bad, probably much better than I deserve”? There’s this thing called victim blaming where girls/women get drunk and therefore it is their fault that they were raped/went missing/etc. It’s as if we believe that these girls deserved divine punishment for going out and having fun, rather than believing that the people who raped them/kidnapped them/etc. shouldn’t have been doing that shit in the first place.

Silly me. It isn’t as if, if it were a man, we would act any different, right?

Right, guys?


I feel like Ana thinks she should have been raped or something. I know that’s a stretch, but what does she think she deserves punishment for? She went out and had fun with her friends to celebrate finishing university. Sure, she could have been a bit more careful visa vi the quantity of alcohol consumed if only because she’s a first timer, but even so. She didn’t know, and she can tag it up to a learning experience. Instead, though, she feels like she… what? Shouldn’t be going out with her friends? Shouldn’t be drinking? Shouldn’t be having fun? I don’t quite get why this situation warrants deserving to feel horrible.

Finally – that last paragraph, guys. How does she know that OJ can’t be beaten? This is her first hangover. Give the other juices a try, why dontcha. Hell, try an English breakfast along with the dog that bit you. That’s supposed to work wonders, too.

Moving on.

Christian knocks and enters without permission (a fitting metaphor for the rest of this book), and,

“Holy hell, he’s been working out. He’s in gray sweat pants that – “

Sorry; had to pause there. Does this guy own nothing that’s not gray? Seriously?

“ – hang, in that way, off his hips and a grey singlet, which is dark with sweat, like his hair.”

“That way”. If you can tell me what hanging “in that way” means, I’ll give you a gold star. I think I know, but at the same time it then makes me think CG has really feminine, rounded hips. Stuff can hang off of my hips just fine, so unless he’s low riding so that his pants barely kiss his hipbones, it makes no sense to me. And I get that a man sweaty can be sexy, this… this doesn’t make me think of sexy. Since he’s in a singlet, why not talk about his muscular arms, or his toned abdomen?

Christian Grey’s sweat, the notion does odd things to me

Well, alright then. I guess sweat gets her off. I must just be weird(er than I thought).

“I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I feel like a two-year old, if I close my eyes then I’m not really here.”


Ew. Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew. I cannot express how much I despise that she does this whole becoming-a-child thing every time she’s turned on. I can almost see why it would work if she were talking about how ashamed she was about last night – almost ­– but even then, why mention the age? She’s a grown woman. I don’t want to be thinking about children when someone is trying to turn me on. God damn.

“Good morning Anastasia. How are you feeling?”

Oh no.

“Better than I deserve,” I mumble.

Again with the deserving. And the “oh no”. What the fuck is that? Oh no what? Oh no, someone cares about my wellbeing after they kidnapped me when I was black-out drunk? I don’t even – this bitch, I swear.

“He hides his thoughts and feelings so well.”

I don’t believe you, Ana. Know why? Because he doesn’t. Every damn clue this guy has dropped said that he is in lust with this girl, and she sees exactly NONE of it. I don’t think he hides anything well; I think Ana is just utterly clueless.

“How did I get here?” My voice is small, contrite.

Why is it small and contrite, exactly? That’s the moment I jump out of bed and attempt to beat a bitch with whatever lamp is closest to me if he doesn’t allow me to leave.

“He’s close enough for me to touch, for me to smell. Oh my… sweat and body wash and Christian, it’s a heady cocktail – so much better than a margarita, and now I can speak from experience.”

Yet just a moment ago she thought she deserved to feel horrendous for her drinking adventure. It’s as if CG is magically able to make Ana feel amazing and…


Also, why does he smell like body wash? Does CG shower, work out, and then shower again? and isn’t the smell of the first two equivalent to the smell of Christian, or is there something in him that could be bottled specifically? Like, I dunno, his specific pheromone marker?

Christian answers Ana’s question, by the way, and I have an issue with it (she writes, as if she doesn’t have an issue with pretty much this whole book):

“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.

Phlegmatically? That’s what we’re going with. Right then.

So, the issue – if you didn’t catch it – is that Ana told us they were at a college bar. Presumably, that means the bar is close to their college. Their apartment is also close to the college. SO WHY THE SHIT DID HE DRIVE HER ALL THE WAY TO PORTLAND?! And douchebag, if you were that concerned about the leather, don’t be kidnapping drunk girls in your car! Just shove them in a taxi and send them home! Shittiest excuse for kidnapping ever. And of course Ana doesn’t realize the fallacy. Which, to be fair, her next questions make up for, though her tone pisses me off:

“Did you put me to bed?”

“Yes.” His face is impassive.

“Did I throw up again?” My voice is quieter.


“Did you undress me?” I whisper.

“Yes.” He quirks an eyebrow at me as I blush furiously.

“We didn’t,” I whisper, my mouth drying in mortified horror as I can’t complete the question. I stare at my hands.

“Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing. I like my women sentient and receptive,” he says dryly.

“I’m so sorry.”


The last line actually made me laugh a bit. She’s sorry he likes his women sentient and receptive? Weird. I guess some women can be chatty, but that’s a weird thing to apologize for. Anyways, I can almost understand her being horrified at the idea of having sex, but mortified?  I mean, it would be rape. Not to say that I wasn’t mortified, I guess, when I was raped but there were a hell of a lot of other emotions, too, and all we get here is “mortified horror”, and her staring at her hands. She is talking to the man who would have been her rapist, presumably, and one that she doesn’t really know all that well.

“Somehow I’ve been made to feel like the villain of the piece.”

Welcome to the world, Ana. Women are made to feel like the villain all the time for things that really shouldn’t be made out to be their fault. Case and point, as I believe I mentioned prior, it was my fault I was raped, not my ex’s. Here, it’s Ana’s fault that Christian took the liberty of tracking her phone and kidnapping her and bringing her back to his suite. Suites like that, by the way, usually have multiple bedrooms, so even if he didn’t want to be a perfect gentleman by getting her a room to herself (he’s uber rich, so that shouldn’t be a problem), he could at least have put her in the secondary bedroom. Regardless, Christian is a douchenozzle and goes on to scold her. Even Ana calls him out on it. Sort of. She calls his cell-tracking tech “James Bond stuff” (told you he should have got her Casino Royale), to which he replies that “the technology to track cell phones is available over the Internet.” TO THE GOOGLE!

Hmm… that’s strange. (see what I did there?) I looked up tracking cell phones online, and though apps are available for that – as I noted, my husband can track my iPhone – but they have to be installed on the phone. And for phones that don’t have GPS it’s a totally different story. You remember flip phones, right? Those really old things (ahem) that you could a) text b) call on? They don’t have GPS; those you have to track off of cell towers. Methinks Christian Grey is lying.

“…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.

Sorry, I lied. Pausing for a moment: date rape happens. But Christian, are you telling us that if you hadn’t invaded Ana’s privacy and rescued her, “like some courtly knight” (Ana’s words, describing his tone), she would have had sex with José even though she didn’t want to? So, you’re saying she would be helpless to say no, or that he would have raped her? Because those are two very different things. And granted, Kate is fucking useless at taking care of her friend, but I would hope she would notice Ana had disappeared. Hope. And besides, one doesn’t make the other any better. For all Christian knew, Ana was just drunk dialed and then went off to dance on the dance floor. The end does not justify the means here. What would he have done if she’d just been dancing when he showed up? Dragged her off the dance floor?

No, seriously, think about it, because this is important; Christian does things throughout the book that could be really horrible except for the fact that it all works out. This, (spoilers) stopping Ana from taking a trip with a guy for work, warning her against agency. If horrible things didn’t result of these things, we would think Christian was a dick. However, he ends up saving her from José the rapist, her boss ends up almost raping her (thus proving Christian’s jealousy and unease was proven to be right), and her having agency on her own causes her loads of hurt and, in one case, causes her to be irresponsible so that she becomes pregnant by accident. Deus ex machina helps Christian’s stalker-ish, abusive bullshit seem like romance by showing us, “well, it could be worse!” which is the worst possible reason to see someone as romantic.

Christian calls himself a Dark Knight, at which point I cringe and wonder if ELJ knows anything about Batman. He informs her that she needs to eat, and that the reason she was so sick was because she didn’t (hint: eating is kindof a big deal for C.G.). Ana complains that he’s scolding her, to which he replies, oh so romantically,

“You’re lucky I’m just scolding you.”

“What do you mean?” [Ana asks]

“Well, if you were mine, 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.” He closes his eyes, dread etched on his lovely face, and he shudders slightly. When he opens his eyes, he glares at me. “I hate to think what could have happened to you.”


I get that C.G. is supposed to be using BDSM lingo or something, but what is it with the “mine” thing? I don’t own my husband, and he doesn’t own me. And supposedly Christian is way on the DL about his BDSM status, so why is he just throwing that around? And the fact that she “wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week” since, outside of a BDSM context, that just sounds like he would quite literally beat his significant other for putting herself in any kind of danger. Which is, you know. Ridiculous. Wouldn’t you, like, comfort your significant other after that sort of thing? No? Just me? Right then.

Ana scowels back at him (go Ana) and thinks to herself, “What is his problem? What’s it to him? If I was his… well, I’m not. Though maybe, part of me would like to be. The thought pierces through the irritation I feel at his high-handed [lol] words. I flush at the waywardness of my subconscious – she’s doing her happy dance in a bright red hula skirt at the thought of being his.” Oh. Well, that didn’t last long. And bitch has got a hula skirt? What the heck else does she have up in there? Ana, her subconscious and her continence (I think that’s the third one) could totally have a luau. And wayward? That’s what we’re calling that thought? Ugh.  If it were wayward, I would be all tingly.

Hint: I’m not.

They bicker a bit about how she was with Kate, but was also with “young José”, according to Ana. Again, didn’t they meet their first year? Like, you would think these are the details we would get about people who are important in Ana’s life, but no. We only get irritating, repetitive details about C.G., as well as a bunch of random people we’ll never see again, and then only tertiary details about everyone else.  There’s so much time wasted in this book talking about pointless shit that could have been supplanted with actual information I want to know, and is necessary to this book making sense.

Ana says that jose got “out of line” (ya think?), and calls Christian a “disciplinarian” for wanting to beat him up, to which Christian replies, “Oh, Anastasia, you have no idea.” His eyes then, “narrow” and he “grins wickedly”. Ana thinks, “It’s disarming. One minute, I’m confused and angry, the next I’m gazing at his gorgeous smile.” Basically, he uses his looks to glamour her like any good vampire millionaire playboy would, and Ana, “quite [forgets] what he’s talking about.” Seriously?

He asks if she would like to shower, or if he can, and, “my heartbeat has picked up, and my medulla oblongata has neglected to fire any synapses to make me breathe.” Oh, my God, Ana. Are you an English major or a Science major? How does she know this, but she doesn’t know how to Google? She knows this, yet she sounds like the type that giggles whenever someone says “penis”, and throughout these entire three books, SHE CANNOT NAME HER OWN GENETALIA. Seriously. It’s like she read about this one biological function once and it’s all she can talk about. Like that guy that memorizes one joke for a party. Doesn’t mean he has a sense of humour. He just tells the same joke. Over. And over. And over again.

It gets old pretty quickly.

So, C.G. touches his sweaty finger to her face, and she gets all tingly in the pants. He tells her to breathe, and that breakfast will arrive in fifteen minutes. I’m telling you this because it’s here, so I assume it’s important. Her hormones are racing (because she wants to jump in the shower with him, not because of food), and she feels like,

“squirming with  a needy, achy… discomfort. I don’t understand this reaction.

Hmm… Desire. This is desire. This is what it feels like.


I… guess being horny is uncomfortable? And goddamnit, Ana, it took you this fucking long? Ana thinks about things a whole heck of a lot, but she’s horrible at it. It takes her pages and pages of whining about things to actually get to a conclusion.  And even then she doesn’t actually stick to her decision. She has to wax on about it for ages. It’s tedious. And maybe I forget what it’s like to not know what the feeling of desire, but… I don’t understand her reaction. And then her following reaction to her figuring it out:

Oh my – what would I do to be his? 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. 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 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.

I like that she actually adds “mistakenly perceived”, and doesn’t just leave it at danger. Also, I am assuming that the fact that she spent the night and feels safe is supposed to foreshadow that she isn’t scared to spend the night with him when that happens, but it feels a bit of a stretch to me.

She scrambles out of bed in search for her pants, and he exits the washroom – after what’s got to be the world’s shortest shower – wearing nothing but a towel. Because apparently kidnapping her wasn’t enough, he has to trapse around in almost no clothes and make her all sorts of flustered. He tells her that he sent her pants to be laundered, and that he’s “sent Taylor out for another pair and some shoes” which were in the bag he brought in at the beginning of the scene, so good job ELJ for planting the gun early.

In the bathroom, it’s all hot and steamy from where he’s been showering [like, from the shower?]. I strip off my clothes and quickly clamber into the shower anxious to be under the cleansing stream of water. It cascades over me, and I hold up my face into the welcoming torrent. I want Christian Grey. I want him badly. Simple fact. For the first time in my life, I want to go to bed with a man. I want to feel his hands and his mouth on me.

He says he likes his women sentient. He’s probably not celibate then. But he’s not made a pass at me, unlike Paul or José [dude asked you out for coffee, and sent you $14,000 books, what more do you want?]. I don’t understand. Does he want me? He wouldn’t kiss me last week. Am I repellent to him? And yet, I’m here and he brought me here. I just don’t know what his game is? [why is that a question?] What he’s thinking? [that, too] You’ve slept in his bed all night, and he’s not touched you Ana. You do the math. [so, because he didn’t rape you, he finds you repellant. That’s just what we should be teaching young women. Yay date rape! If he doesn’t rape you, he doesn’t like you] My subconscious has reared her ugly, snide head. I ignore her. [good girl.]


Coming up, guys, we get – GASP – Ana’s first masturbation.

“The water is warm and soothing. Hmm… I could stay under this shower, in his bathroom, forever. I reach for the body-wash and it smells of him. It’s a delicious smell. I rub it all over myself, fantasizing that it’s him – rubbing his heavenly scented soap into my body, across my breasts, over my stomach, between my thighs with his long fingered hands. Oh my. My heartbeat picks up again, this feels so… so good.

“Breakfast is here.” He knocks on the door, startling me.

Damnit, Christian, interrupting her first self-pleasure session, which is a shame. It’s the first sexy part of the book and it had… potential. Of course he interrupts her enjoying herself, though; it’s what he does. Only his pleasure is important. If she gets off on it too then fine, but if CG wants something, damnit, he wants it now. I will say, though, I like how it shows her first experience of masturbating. Her tentative “so…so good” makes me think of a girl coming into some sort of knowledge about her body. Point for EL James here, because I appreciate that.

Back to the real world, Ana puts her hair up, “Carmen Miranda style” and we see how dated the character’s references are. This chick, may I remind you, is only into reading seriously old literature. How does she know who Carmen Miranda is? Like, I could understand if it was an omniscient narrator here, describing what’s going down, but it’s not; it’s Ana’s stream of consciousness. Therefore, if she knows nothing about modern day pop culture, why does she know about C.M.? It’s almost as if she’s only a composite of a character with no real personality except for what we’re told to believe… Ahem.

So she rubs the towels all over herself and it feels nice but she tries to ignore it, and then many woman’s ultimate fantasy appears:

“I inspect the bag of jeans. Not only has Taylor [not Christian, mind] brought be jeans and new Converse, 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. What’s more, they fit perfectly. But of course they do. I flush to think of the Buzz-Cut man in some lingerie store buying this for me. I wonder what else is in his job description.

I dress quickly. The rest of the clothing is a perfect fit. 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. I take a deep breath. Time to face Mr. Confusing. ”


The ultimate fantasy to which I’m referring of course is having someone else buy you a whole new outfit without knowing your size and having it fit perfectly. What I want to know, though, is this: we hear a lot how her hair is utterly impossible, but… hold on a second. This chick’s hair isn’t ever described as distinctly curly or tousled or anything, and we’re never told that she has hardcore ringlets or something going on. So how bloody bad can her hair be? She never does anything to it. Far as I know she uses what would probably amount to baby shampoo based on what we know about her, so why is her hair that bad? Is this supposed to be another one of those self-deprecating things, or is this so that the reader looks at her and goes, “Oh I can so relate to her because my hair is totally crazy, too!” I really don’t get the point of it.

Speaking of point, I’m going to go off track momentarily and note that my in-depth chapter posts are going to make way for something a little bit more manageable. I mentioned that these posts – often clocking in at roughly 10K per post – take a lot of time and a lot of mental strain. I have no desire to start drinking, so I’m going to start being a little bit more general. Right now, I’m straight-up reading along, page by page (as you can see from the quotes). Believe me when I say that this is literally – literally – painful. I also feel like it gets repetitive for you, dear reader, because a lot of the problems in this book are really, really repetitive. So I’ll change it up a bit. Because I care.

Anyways; time to nitpick! Where the shit did Buzz-Cut (aka one of the most interesting characters in this book) get these clothes? Did Christian make Converse, Jean Machiene, and Agent Provocateur open up at 7am for his minion’s shopping pleasure? Or did he already have the clothes…? Fuck, I bet he did. The wanker. I bet he already bought her clothes to impress her so that whenever he got a chance to kidnap her, she’d have a new outfit to wear. Do you realize what that would mean? He already had planned on kidnapping her at some point. If you think about it, it’s the only thing that makes sense, because no way Taylor could find a store that sold all that stuff and had time to go shopping and bring it back before the action happens in the scene.

EL James, as I’ve noted, tends to use a lot of 5$ words in this book. Notably, on this page, she uses imperiously and profligate. Don’t get me wrong, I love 5$ words, but they’re very much out of place. All it does is make these two sound like douche-y hipsters trying to out-douche one another.

Which very well may be true.

Also, character problem time, Christian has set out for Ana a table that is “laden” with food. Um, Christian is supposed to have issues with wasting food. WTF is he doing ordering everything off the fucking menu. Ana, this time allowed to choose what she wants to eat, picks: pancakes, maple syrup, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Good girl. We’ll see that appetite go down real soon, though. She’s also pleasantly surprised that he remembers that she likes her tea Twinnings and teabag out. Or maybe he just didn’t want it to steep while she was in the shower? Also, that water would be so tepid by now. Ew.

I’m getting a distinct feeling of déjà vu writing about this chapter. I hope I didn’t inadvertently delete or rewrite it. That would be… disappointing.

He comments on her hair being wet, and I wonder if he’s trying out to be her lover or her mother. His mouth “presses into a hard line” when she tells him she couldn’t find the hair dryer. We’re supposed to think that he’s doing so out of anger (ugh) because he’s protective (which is way sexy, amirite, ladies?) but I think it’s because he’s thinking, “how stupid is this girl? Do I really want someone this daft that can’t find a hairdryer in a hotel bathroom?”

Small pleasures.

He compliments her, she blushes and stares at her fingers, she offers to pay him for the clothes, and he acts as if she has, “offended him on some level”. Why on some level? Why not just “offended him” and leave it at that? Was ELJ’s contract circa Charles Dickons and she was to be paid by the word?

It all makes so much more sense now.

They have a spat about him spending money on her (she doesn’t want him to, his response is, “I will because I can so stfu”) to which I say, look. If you’re dating a guy and he wants to buy you things and it’s not a huge financial burden to him, great. Let him. If you really don’t want him to, though, he should stop out of respect for you. Further, these two aren’t dating. He just sent her a random, expensive gift and sent it to her house. That’s not cool, man. If she wants to give it back, then she should be able to give it back. I don’t care if he can afford to give her a fucking castle. If she doesn’t want it, she shouldn’t have to take it.

Though, not gonna lie, if a dude wanted to give me a castle, I would totally take it. Pretty sure my husband would even be OK with that.

He then looks at her – sorry, “regards [her] intently, his grey eyes burning with some unfathomable emotion” (159). Seriously? Also, he has this giant speech about how he’s not romantic, he’s not up for dating, etcetera, and ends it with, “can’t stay away”, and all she takes from the conversation is that he can’t stay away. And then her appetite vanishes. Swoon? Maybe not. Now, she says, “then don’t”, but her loss of appetite at knowing that this creepy dude can’t stay away from her isn’t exactly a desirable reaction, is it? I feel like her stomach is telling her something her loins and brain really should be listening to.

Christian then plays the “I want you so badly but I’m no good for you but I can’t stay away” thing, and Ana tells him not to; he asks what her plans are, wanting, presumably based on their conversation, “enlighten” her about what his sexual proclivities and appetites are.  She tells him  her plans – that she’s moving in with Kate – again – into Seattle.

Ok, wait.

Hold the phone.

So, this girl has no plans for work after university, but she is moving into the city with her friend. Oh, right, her friend’s parents are rich and bought her the house. That’s cool. So… Ana is the stay at home wife to Kate? Way to use your supposed bff, Ana.

Funny line alert: Christian asks where Ana is living and instead of just saying, “The Pike Market District”, she actually says, “I can’t remember the address. It’s in the Pike Market District”. Awesome that ELJ didn’t make the people living at whatever address she could have named be subjected to 50SoG fans knocking on their door for all eternity in hopes of running into Kate or something, but why not just “the PMD” instead of pointing out that she doesn’t remember the address? I feel like that would have flowed so much better.

So, they flirt for a while and it’s interminable. I want to smack them both and tell them to fucking talk already instead of just throwing one-liners at each other and interrogating each other (Ana’s word).

Then this happens:

“’I’d like to bit that lip,’ he whispers darkly.

Oh my. […] ‘Why don’t you?’ I challenge quietly.

‘Because I’m not going to touch you Anastasia – not until I have your written consent to do so.’”


Wait, what? (Ana’s response, incidentally, is “What?” as well.)

If I didn’t know what was coming, I would be confused. Even so, it still sounds really ridiculous.

He does the whole tortured soul thing again: “once you know my secret, you’ll never want to see me again,” blah blah blah. We get it. You’re tortured. Good for you.

She then lists the horrible things she can think of: white slaving, underworld crime syndicate, deeply religious, and impotent. And then her subconscious yells at her, “it’ll have to be pretty bloody bad to have you running for the hills.” I would hope she’d be running for the cops, not the hills, if it were the first two, and why are the second two problems? Also, nitpicking again, I guess you could argue that because she reads only British lit it is reasonable that her subconscious would use “bloody”, but the character never uses it, so why is her subconscious? She’s an American girl. I use Britishisms sometimes because my Grandmother is British and I spent a year abroad, and because I’m Canadian. We’re practically British anyways. But Ana is American, and even though she reads British lit, it isn’t as if old British lit would be full of curses like “bloody”.

I guess “characterisation” nor “consistency” showed up on ELJ’s word-a-day calendar. Pity.

They flirt more, plan to meet that night, she calls him (in her head) a pompous ass, and then he picks up his BlackBerry (because he’s too hipster for the iPhone) and asks for “Charlie Tango”, which we will later learn is a helicopter, but frankly, when I say “learn” I mean we’ll be told. We get to listen to the entire one-sided conversation of CG arranging for his helicopter to be available for him. Seriously. It goes on for two pages.

Ana asks if people, “always do what he tells them” and he replies, “usually, if they want to keep their jobs” and I add, “that’s how employment works, Ana.”

We then get to check off a box on the list of how to tell if you’re in an abusive relationship: “I’m too much of a coward to voice these thoughts aloud, especially when he looks so sullen.” She’s scared to say something that will upset him. She also says he looks like a small boy, by the way, which is also very un-sexy.

Speaking of un-sexy, she actually says the word sex, you guys omggggggggggg tee hee hee! Seriously, though, this happens: “’Not having…sex.’ There, I said the word. I blush – of course.”

If she can’t say the word, she shouldn’t be having it. She obviously doesn’t understand what it is, and how it will affect her. She not mature enough to talk about it, she’s not mature enough to deal with the consequences, and she’s definitely not mature enough to have it. She also doesn’t understand when CG says he has had sex but has never slept with anyone, and I think, “Bitch, were you an English major or what?” WORDS. Ugh. Especially because she follows it with, “And it dawns on me that I have slept with Christian Grey.” What does that mean?! DID THEY FUCK AND NO ONE TOLD US?! But seriously, guys. Let me remind you that we’re told that this bitch is smart.

I also want to give a nod to the editor who probably had an aneurysm reading the first draft of this stupid book, which is why it’s all fucked up – just like the animator whose death saved the Knights of the Round Table from almost certain death, the editor’s aneurysm saved us from having to read a book instead of just a collection of words thrown together in a giant bundle of bullshit.

Ana uses Christian’s toothbrush because they are apparently Marshall and Lily now, and she experiences “deep joy” that she has found a hair tie in her purse (I forgot about her hair, did you?), Christian makes another “unreadable” face, and we get to listen in on a business call that literally has nothing to do with anything.  Seriously. I theorize that if she looked, she could see that his phone isn’t actually in a call, he’s just pretending to make himself sound smart.

We get a description of his clothes (was he naked before?) and they head into the elevator, where he says, (GASP) “Oh, fuck the paperwork” and they make out like teenagers. It’s a pretty sexy scene, she uses the word “erection” without blushing, he speaks. In. Staccatos. And then it’s over. Her “very small inner goddess sways in a gentle victorious samba”. I would like to see that.

I really want to know how they’re going show the subconscious and the inner goddess in the movie. Please tell me they’re in the movie. I will cry of laughter if they are.

I’m glad that’s done. The next few chapters, including the couple chapters that are literally made up of paperwork and legal documentation will be horrible, but we’ll soldier through, you and I.

Until next time, dear reader.


4 thoughts on “50 Shades of Grey Chapter 5 – Or, “The Longest Breakfast Ever”

  1. Akhh I don’t know what to tell you right now. You just killed my brain numbing book that I liked to pick up when I went to bed :( Not cool! However, extremely well written and funny. I think I would love to read your analysis of this book fully if you published it. Would pay money for it, no joke.


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