Something bewildering happens to you when you hit thirty. Bars and parties give me more of a “how late do we have to stay out” feeling than a “let’s f-ing rage” feeling these days.
Most of my friends are married (with children) and are DIY beasts when it comes to cooking and home decor projects. Based off of the quirky quotes and pictures they post, I believe they run off of wine and wine only. I can get down with that.
I’m not married and I don’t have little babes yet, so I try to find my adult fix elsewhere. I was invited into a book club by a woman in a blogger workshop I participated in. Oh man, I hated that workshop so much, but I’ll have to write about that whole debacle another time. I’m pretty sure I was in a cult?
Anyway, I accepted the invite for the book club. I was so pumped! I couldn’t wait to dig into something new. Bring it on, ladies! What book are we reading this week?
Then reality hit.
The consensus: Fifty Shades of Grey
Um, really? Didn’t that whole thing sort of happen to people awhile ago? I thought everyone was over that by now- definitely not these ladies.
I have zero-desire to read that book. The concept is a little corny to me. If I want to picture some chick getting tied up and sodomized, I’d head on over to PornHub or something- it’s just not my thing. I’m not saying the book is bad, but it doesn’t spark my interest.
The women had spoken and we had one week to read this disaster. At the end of the week, we would have a group discussion about it.
Guess what I did that week?
I went grocery shopping, lightly cleaned my apartment, and worked on my website- no book.
Right before the club was going to hold the discussion, I Googled the crap out of Fifty Shades. Was it wrong? Totally. Did I care? Not initially…
You know the scene in Billy Madison when Billy is asked about the Industrial Revolution and he bs’d his way through it with The Puppy Who Lost His Way? Then the principal says,
“Mr. Madison, what you’ve just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.”
Interchangeable with my experience.
Apparently the book and movie had a few minor differences which Google did not tell me about. I was called out hard! They accused me of just watching the movie. I assured them that was not true (because I never watched the movie either). It was rough, my friends, but at least I didn’t have to read the book!
After feeling like I was tied up and sodomized (like Anastasia) by the ladies of the book club, it was once again time to pick a new book for the following week.
I learned that bringing up a biology book to their club is like dropping a poorly decoupaged turd in their Pinterest punch bowl. They were not picking up what I was putting down.
I got an email from their “pack leader” letting me know that I was not a good fit for this particular group. I agreed; I’m not like these women. We had totally different interests and personalities that do not mesh well. That’s life.
Their next book was probably about some 21st century woman making a time machine out of tampons so she can go back to the Stone Age only to be fornicated by some romantic caveman or whatever.
Hmm.. I’d probably read that one.