50 Shades of Crazy

In high school, I made the decision to jump on the bandwagon and read The Twilight Saga. Like a majority of the teenage girl population, I loved it. Unlike the majority of the teenage girl population, it ruined me. I started to get even more fed up with my teenage boyfriend than usual. He was just lazy. I mean my God, if it was raining I needed him to cover me from head to tow in a water repelling shield and carry me to the car. At night, while I slept, I fully expected him to climb into my window and whisper things like “I’ll make sure no one ever looks you in the eye without asking” or “don't worry sweetie, I will viciously murdered all your male friends because I am that in love with you.” He just didn’t do that kind of stuff and I had to break up with him. Those things were reasonable. Like W.W.E.D…what would Edward do, babe? As I grew and matured, I slowly released my Edward Cullen fantasy. I mean it wasn’t really that I stopped finding overwhelming control in a relationship important; I just got way more desperate and forgot about it a little. That is until I read the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy.

That horribly written, kinky sex filled novel became my secret heroin. I knew the implication this might have on me mentally, but I couldn’t put it down. I tried my hardest to use the things my therapist taught me during my Twilight binge, but I just couldn’t stop it from taking a temporary toll on my current relationship. I wasn’t committed to 50 Shades for the whips, chains and other slightly terrifying sexcapades that Anastasia and Christian embarked on, I was in it for the unhealthy level of obsession that he had with her.

The change washed over me slowly but surely as I morphed into a little blonde haired psychopath. “Hey I think I’m going to go out with my friends tonight” I muttered one evening to my boyfriend. “Okay cool have fun,” he responded like the most irresponsible human being I’d ever met. I should have listened to my therapist and calmly walked to the bathroom looked myself in the mirror and said “Katherine, Christian Grey isn’t real. It’s also really strange that, in the novel 50 Shades of Grey…WHERE HE EXISTS…he forces his girlfriend to take a security team with her everywhere she goes. That’s not normal behavior. Also Katherine, you look really pretty today. You should go assert confidence and go make a real human connection instead of wasting your time with romance novels. ” But I didn’t. I snapped. “Look sir” I screamed as I jumped off the couch. I emphasized the ‘sir’ because that’s what Ana calls Christian in the book. “I just told you that I am going to a bar. A BAR. In Norman, OK…a city with an EXTREMELY high crime rate. Like I mean right under DETROIT. And you’re just going to be that nonchalant about me going? I guess I get that you don’t have the financial means to hire a security team 24/7 but you can’t even do it for one night? Oh my god. You’re so cheap. At least force your roommate to follow me around all night and make sure I’m super safe.” He looked stunned which annoyed me even more so I just left. The next morning I had forgotten about it. It was clear I’d suffered from what Summer Roberts on The O.C. calls a “rage blackout.”

 Later that day, and after a few more chapters, I decided to take another cue from the book. I snuck over to his house while he was at work and suspended myself from the ceiling with rope. I thought this would be a nice romantic gesture after a long day of the 9 to 5 but it totally backfired. He told me to leave and not come back until I had let go of “Anastasia” and come back to “Katherine.” I sat on the curb of his apartment building sobbing covered in rope burns and self-defeat. He obviously just didn’t want to evolve with me, right? This couldn’t be my fault. I slowly got up and adjusted the Bloomingdales tag on the Alexander McQueen dress I had bought myself for the occasion with the money I was supposed to be using on school tuition. So 50 Shades of me. 

Then it hit me. I was spiraling again. This sick, sexy, dysfunctional couple was my new Edward and Bella and I needed help. I took a big deep breath and set fire to the book…. well I deleted it off my iPhone but you get the point. I returned the dress, I guess buying it with your parents money isn’t really the same as your megabillionaire lover’s personal shopper buying it for you. My boyfriend eventually took me back and my life is back on track but let this be a warning to all of you. 50 Shades of Grey is a cruel, harsh drug. This isn’t literary child’s play, Ladies. Be careful out there. 

Katherine