I admit it. I got sucked into the Fifty Shades of Grey Trilogy about the sexcapades of rich and controlling 27 year old Christian Grey told from the vantage point of his twenty-something “submissive” girlfriend. I decided I would take a break from blogging about my real-life post divorce life and create a parody chapter Of the best seller with a different angle – one of a 43 year old Divorced single parent in the very real world of dating. And No, it’s not about me or anyone I dated. If you have read the book(s)..Enjoy!
Fifty Percent of Gray
Me, yes me. I’m actually his..Gray Christian! The former CEO of Christian Enterprises holdings – until it was recently acquired by Atheist Inc. He smiles at me, blue eyes twinkling. My inner goddess dances with delight. He’s mine! As we speed down the road I ask him, “Where are you taking me Sir?
“Your place. My ex has the house this week. We are nesting.”
We both have 50/50 custody. “Do you have the kids tonight?” He asks his mouth forming a straight line.
“No. I do not Sir.” I answer obediently.
“Good” he says. Soon we arrive at my place and he wraps his arms around me burying his face in my hair. Can I bear it??? And is it clean? I didn’t have time to wash it before bus drop off this morning! Gray climbs out of the car and then holds the car door open for me.
“Come” he demands taking my hand and walking me to my house. As I unlock the door, he suddenly picks me up like a child and throws me over his shoulder and carries me up the stairs. I melt. I hear his knees pop with each step. He slips my dress over my head expertly with one hand. I shudder. I wish I hadn’t worn my ugly padded bra! My fingers curl around his thinning gray hair. He then slowly, expertly, slides off my Spanx, pitching them across the bed, knocking my reading glasses off the night stand.
“You are mine he says greedily”. He pushes me down on the bed and begins to run his tongue down my neck, towards my belly, down…Oh god. Oh god. Oh god I didn’t wax…I sit up, grab his hands and pull him up towards me.
“I must have you now” I plea to distract him from my unsightly lack of grooming. He stands and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a breath mint. He rolls the blue mint on his tongue, flicking it, torturing me. He unzips his jeans and is suddenly on top of me, his white linen shirt and socks still on.
“I could look at you all day” he says. My inner goddess hopes he doesn’t see my cellulite and c section scar. “I want to tie you up.” He says, his tone changing instantly. I will use this” he says with Mr. Blankie in his hands. Oh no…Mr. Blankie is not to be used as a sex toy! I toss Mr. Blankie to the floor next to the discarded Spanx, hoping he doesn’t find Mrs. Walrus buried in the sheets.
“Here – use this” I say as I tear my blackberry charger from the wall.
“You are so demanding” he says, his mouth curling into a smile. He searches for bed posts finding none in my rental and ties my hands together with the black cord. He presses his mouth to mine. I feel that shock of electricity. I can resist him no longer. Oh Gray….He crushes me to him and whispers,
“What does the madam wish? What will it take to please you fully?” Too old and wise to fake it I answer.
“You are going to need your hands. Mine are tied up.” As he starts to tease me and caress my thighs with his elegant fingers I look down and realize his great length – is not. Catching my glance he turns cold, eyes turning to ice.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. Don’t cry! My inner goddess shouts. My mouth goes dry.
“We must wait…” He says dryly. I can’t take it anymore! Why does he want to delay our gratification? I am about to explode!
“Wait for what!?” I beg. He leans back gazing at me.
“For it to take effect..” he murmurs. “..the breath mint”. Oh no. Typical results are 30-60 minutes. This is just too much.
“When Gray?! I have needs! When!!” My heart swells with hope. He glares at me with control, pulling up the covers…He responds..
27. May 2012 by GenerationExGirl
I have a “Story People” print on my wall that says, “There are things you do because they feel right & they may make no sense & they may make no money & it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other & to eat each other’s cooking & say it was good.”
1 lb ground chicken (white meat)
½ cup – 1 cup grated parmesan
½ cup breadcrumbs (give or take)
Salt and pepper to taste
Premixed slaw (carrot, broccoli, cabbage, etc.)
Low-fat blue cheese salad dressing
Louisiana hot sauce
Buffalo wing sauce (suggest Wing Time brand, mild)
Lime juice or white vinegar
Kings Hawaiian sliders
Buffalo chicken meatballs:
Mix chicken and egg together, adding parmesan and breadcrumbs until you can form a non-sticky meatball. Mix in salt and pepper and form into golf ball sized meat balls. Place on non-stick (or slightly oiled) baking sheet or broiler pan. Bake at 350 until one side is slightly browned, then flip. Both sides will flatten slightly, creating a ‘fat’ little burger. When both sides are lightly browned, simmer in buffalo wing sauce 10-15 minutes.
Toss slaw veggies with low-fat blue cheese dressing and Louisiana hot sauce to taste. Add a little vinegar or lime juice. If you prefer a very creamy sauce use extra dressing, if you like it hot or tart, adjust accordingly. Set aside.
Remove burgers from sauce and place one on each bun bottom. Top with slaw and bun top. Place on Panini press and cook until manageably flatter with grill marks on top. Serve with extra blue cheese dressing on the side for dipping.
This morning as I sweated Sauv Blanc under the direction of my thirty something Soul Cycle instructor, I thought to myself, if the 60s could see the TwentyTeens, they would be proud. The class this morning was comprised mostly of over-sexed single hungover people who probably should not have been attempting a bicycle seat. 90%, yes 90, of my friends are divorced, widowed, or otherwise single. We have never laughed more, “loved” more, imbibed more or cried more. One of my friends lost her husband to cancer in June. She was the most proper friend I had. She shuddered when I swore, judged who I dated, and loved her husband with everything she had. Unlike most of my tribe, she still believed in marriage. After the grieving process had started to subside, what she calls the “widow gone wild” phase began. From the proverbial ashes emerged a giggling, partying profanity popping person. Phoenix, you dirty bird you. But here’s the thing – if it weren’t for our children, we would be one cliff away from a Thelma and Louise. Because behind every laugh is a little Robin Williams inside us all. When I first got divorced I told my therapist I was going to lose it and he laughed at me. He said, “Sorry, you don’t get to fall apart, and besides, it’s not your style. Just keep going.” So my tribe and I have been doing just that. We are having a lot of what I call Facebook Fun. Our posts show an enviable non-stop lifestyle. Its fun, but truth be told I miss being married. During class today I mourned my not so sexy Sunday routine of sleeping in and shopping at Target. The harder I pedaled, the sadder I became. Now, if you haven’t been to Soul Cycle, its a about a buck a minute to ride a bike to a beat in the dark while a hot perky person motivates you with inspirations and threats. Today, Ms. Soul Cycle urged us to look forward. “Keep going. Don’t look back,” she said, “You aren’t going that way.” Fifty years after the summer of love, here we are in the winter of none. Thank God that in Soul Cycle, your feet are locked into the bike, and your bike is locked into the floor because you can’t fall off, and you cant fall apart. You just have to keep going.