There is a fantasy at the core of 50 Shades of Grey that is the sexiest part of the entire experience.
And no, it doesn’t take place in the “Red Room of Pain.”
Although if you remove the floggers, whips, and restraints (or not — I’m not judging here), the essence of what’s so appealing remains.
Domination.
And its corollary, submission.
Having a cool, assertive — dare I say arrogant — person telling you what to do, how to do it, when to do it, how much to withhold and then release — hits our collective G-spots and is why 50 Shades of Grey, both the books and the movie, are so popular. (Well, that and the sex.)
We women make about 5,792 decisions a day that steer the course of not just ourselves, but also everyone around us. And for most of us, we are the Dom in every single relationship. I know in my household, nobody eats, goes anywhere, dresses, goes to bed, wakes up, or basically does anything without my participation and/or approval.
SNAP! (That’s the sound of the crack of my virtual whip.)
And also, ZZZ. That’s the corollary to XXX — it can be really exhausting to figure everything out and direct everyone all day long… without the benefit of a flogger or two, handcuffs, or a contract that everyone signs agreeing to doing exactly as I say when I say it and how I say to do it.
So for Valentine’s Day, in addition to sucking up the age-old tale of successful man seduces innocent woman and in the process heals himself by finding true love (totally Disney, if only Cinderella lost not a slipper but one of her Ben Wa balls or Snow White wore a dog collar crafted by dwarves and insisted upon by Prince Charming), the ladies will be lining up to take in the fantasy for 125 minutes of pure release.
What would life be like if someone else called all the shots?
I for one would enjoy that for a while.
I would love it if when I woke up, my day was already mapped out for me, relieving me of barking orders and plotting out everyone’s schedule as I make lunches and breakfast simultaneously.
It would be pretty awesome if in the middle of the day, someone led me to a “playroom,” handed me a key, and told me I could come and go as I pleased. (I will leave this one open-ended… let’s just say a special break room just for me — be it “play time” or nap time — would be amazing.)
I would be down with having someone whisk me away on a jet, especially during rush hour that in my world also normally collides with needing to be in 2-5 different places at the same time.
It would be divine at dinnertime when I have no idea what I want to cook if someone could silence my inclination to make something with chicken and demand ribs or sushi or something. (Wait, that’s my kids, pretty much every night… and still, they get chicken Let’s tweak this a bit and say that person would have the meal fully mapped out and prepared. Now that’s a fantasy I’d truly enjoy.)
Even bedtime would be a great time to follow orders to say, stop checking emails, ditch paying bills, and even to remember to brush my teeth. (Not that I need a reminder but it’d be nice to know someone else cares about my personal hygiene now that I’m in “the invisible years,” aka mid-life.)
When the 50 Shades of Grey books first became a phenomenon, I wrote about the real mommy porn, which is the fantasy that we’re locked away from the world where nothing is black and white, but instead is a nice, soft, comfortable grey. Nowhere to go, nothing to do, and a hottie whispering in our ears reminding us to just breathe.
And I admitted that would be excellent… for maybe 50 minutes or 50 seconds.
But then back to real life where the truth is that I’d like to have some say in the matter. And at least 50 shades of it — from I got nuthin’ to add to do exactly as I say or I will hurt you. (I mean that figuratively, of course.) And in the real BDSM community, that’s the point of differentiation from the fantasy presented by 50 Shades of Grey as well. (For more on that subject, check out this excellent article from The Atlantic, “Consent Isn’t Enough: The Troubling Sex of 50 Shades.)
While I know books and movies like 50 Shades of Grey and TV shows like The Bachelor are great guilty pleasures, I also hate the idea of some guy calling the shots while the women just wait… and wait… and wait for their turn. Without their needs and desires every explicitly discussed or addressed.
Perhaps that’s why the role of Dom of the House is so desirable: it fills a very specific need — to have an important purpose and play a significant role in someone else’s life.
This, as it is with any other relationships where there is an unequal balance of power, is not to be taken lightly. And it’s also important that you don’t hang your whole identity on it, either.
So if you hear me uttering my safe words — I got it — just know that as much as I’d enjoy someone else calling the shots on Valentine’s Day, I’d like my say, too. While there’s nothing wrong with getting tied up, spending even 50 seconds tongue-tied would be a little over the edge for me.
Now enjoy this spoof on 50 Shades of Grey (ok, it’s an ad, but good one) … and Happy Valentine’s Day, my bitches!
Blog Image Source: Zazzle
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