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So Christian comes in the room while Ana is crying and he holds her and it would be very sweet if I didn’t already know that she was crying because he fucking beat her with a belt.
What the fuck. Seriously.
“I don’t think I can be everything you want me to be,” I whisper. His eyes widen slightly, and he blinks, his fearful expression returning.
“You are everything I want you to be.”
“I don’t understand. I’m not obedient, and you can be as sure as hell I’m not going to let you do that to me again. And that’s what you need, you said so.”
Except he doesn’t need that? Because that’s the only time in the entirety of your relationship that he’s done that? And he did it because you specifically asked him to? And if he actually DOES need to hurt you, then he shouldn’t be in any relationship, he should be getting serious psychiatric help.
I just can’t imagine any situation in which a guy would *need* to hurt his girlfriend. He *wants* to hurt you, that’s not the same as a *need.*
“You’re right. I should let you go. I am no good for you.”
“I don’t want to go,” I whisper. Fuck – this is it. Pay or play. Tears swim in my eyes once more.
“I don’t want you to go either,” he whispers, his voice raw. He reaches up and gently strokes my cheek and wipes away a falling tear with his thumb. “I’ve come alive since I met you.” His thumb traces the contours of my lower lip.
“Me, too,” I whisper. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Christian.”
Oh for the love of fuck.
Either you two stay together and Christian accepts that he won’t beat you anymore, OR you break up and never see each other again.
There is clearly a compromise here, and it’s not that hard to do, but the two of you are making this whole thing so fucking dramatic I don’t even understand.
“You can’t love me, Ana. No… that’s wrong.” He’s horrified.
“Wrong? Why’s it wrong?”
“Well, look at you. I can’t make you happy.” His voice is anguished.
“But you do make me happy.” I frown.
“Not at the moment, not doing what I want to do.”
Just because you want to do something doesn’t mean you have to do it, Christian.
I mean, sometimes I want to murder people. Do I do it? No, because I’m not a fucking psychopath like Christian is.
This whole problem is seriously so easily solvable. Just agree to not hit her anymore! That’s all you need to do! Or just break it off for good! There! Done! Everything is fixed!
“We’ll never get past that, will we?” I whisper, my scalp prickling in fear.
He shakes his head bleakly. I close my eyes. I cannot bear to look at him.
“Well…I’d better go, then,” I murmur, wincing as I sit up.
“No, don’t go.” he sounds panicked.
“There’s no point in me staying.”
THIS IS IT Y’ALL.
THE BREAK UP.
Except they’re breaking up for perfectly fixable reasons.
Ana asked Christian to hit her as hard as he could, Christian obliged, and Ana freaked the fuck out, and then they both proceeded to refer to it as a “need” of his, like he can’t possibly live without beating the shit out of his girlfriend, and now they’re breaking up.
The two of you are so fucking stupid I swear to god.
Ana says she’s going to get dressed, and asks Christian to leave the room, which he does.
This is so overdramatic, oh my goodness.
My jeans chafe against my backside, but quite frankly, it’s a pain I welcome as it distracts my mind from what’s happening to my splintering, shattered heart.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IT’S A BREAK UP. YOU’LL LIVE. JESUS.
Look, I get it. I’ve gone through horrible break ups. I got broken up with after a 4 year relationship, I get it, I know how bad it hurts, how you don’t want to move or breathe or think.
But at no point did I talk about my “splintering, shattered heart.”
That’s some 8th grade poetry shit, and makes the pain sound childish and melodramatic.
Break ups hurt. A lot. You don’t have to make it sound so stupid.
But that’s what happens when you’re not very good at writing, I suppose.
After getting dressed, Ana takes out a modeling kit of a glider that she got for Christian as a gift, and writes a note to go with it that says “This reminded me of a happy time. Thank you.”
Guhhhh SO DRAMATIC.
Ana walks out and Christian is on the phone doing business things again, because that’s just what he does all the time I guess. I think he’s talking about the “situation,” which we still don’t know what that is but okay.
Once he gets off the phone, Ana takes her computer, phone, and car keys and puts them on the counter, which I think is perfectly reasonable, since when a break-up happens (even if it happens for perfectly solvable reasons) both people usually want to get rid of all the things that remind them of that person.
Christian, of course, takes it as a personal insult, and is all upset when Ana asks him for the money that he got when he sold Ana’s old car. He literally glares at her. How dare she ask for the money back for a car that she never wanted to sell in the first place.
He finally writes her a check for it, puts it in an envelope, and says Taylor, his body guard person, will drive Ana home.
Ana of course doesn’t want Taylor to drive her home, although I have no idea how she’d get home otherwise. But I guess she finally agrees to have Taylor drive her home.
“I don’t want you to go,” he murmurs, his voice full of longing.
“I can’t stay. I know what I want and you can’t give it to me, and I can’t give you what you need.”
THAT IS THE MOST SENSIBLE THING ANYONE HAS SAID IN THIS ENTIRE STUPID BOOK.
I WANT TO SHOUT THAT FROM MOUNTAINTOPS AND HIGHLIGHT IT IN EVERY COPY OF THIS SHIT BOOK THAT’S EVER BEEN PRINTED.
THAT IS THE POINT.
“Goodbye, Christian,” I murmur.
“Ana, goodbye,” he says softly, and he looks utterly, utterly broken, a man in agonizing pain, reflecting how I feel inside.
Well, I’m happy to say that I don’t think either of these characters spoke above a murmur in this entire book.
Congratulations, E.L. James, you are verb-stupid and use the same fucking ones for every fucking piece of shitty dialogue.
Ana leaves and gets in the car with Taylor to go home.
Embarrassment and shame washes over me. I’m a complete failure. I had hoped to drag my Fifty Shades into the light, but it’s proved a task beyond my meager abilities.
IT’S NOT YOUR JOB TO CHANGE A PERSON. HE HAS TO CHANGE FOR HIMSELF. YOU’RE FUCKING RIDICULOUS.
Shit – I’ve left him. The only man I’ve ever loved. The only man I’ve ever slept with.
Yes, you left him, which was your choice because you couldn’t do what he wanted you to do, which was a good decision, stop making yourself feel shitty about it.
Also stop talking about this like you’ll never meet another man who loves you ever. You’ve literally had dudes throwing themselves at you from page one.
Grief. This is grief – and I’ve brought it on myself. Deep down, a nasty, unbidden thought comes from my inner goddess, her lip curled in a snarl… the physical pain from the bite of a belt is nothing, nothing compared to this devastation. I curl up, desperately clutching the flat foil balloon [a present she got from Christian, a balloon version of a helicopter] and Taylor’s handkerchief, and surrender myself to my grief.
WHO FUCKING DIED.
-End of Chapter Twenty-Six-
-End of Part One-
YIPPEE KI YAY, MOTHERFUCKERS.
ONE BOOK DOWN. TWO TO GO.
I’ll post my final thoughts on 50 Shades in a few minutes.