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They get to the helicopter pad (because of course they’re taking Christian’s goddamned helicopter, instead of driving in a car like NORMAL FUCKING PEOPLE), and Ana is right back where she was a week ago, all googly-eyed over Christian.
I feel the familiar pull–I am drawn, Icarus to his sun. I have been burned already, and yet here I am again.
STOP IT WITH THE GODDAMNED ICARUS MYTH.
YOU ARE NOT ICARUS.
ICARUS WASN’T DRAWN TOWARDS THE SUN. HE WAS JUST WAY TOO EXCITED ABOUT FLYING AND ACCIDENTALLY FLEW TOO HIGH EVEN THOUGH HIS FATHER WARNED HIM NOT TO AND THEN HIS WAX WINGS BURNED AND HE FELL TO HIS DEATH IN THE OCEAN.
IF YOU WERE ICARUS, YOUR DAD WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE “HEY, THE SUN IS REALLY BEAUTIFUL BUT IS ALSO REALLY DANGEROUS AND ABUSIVE AND WILL STALK YOU WHEREVER YOU GO AND BE A SEXIST DICK ALL THE TIME, DON’T GO NEAR IT.” AND YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE “PSSHH FUCK YOU” AND FLOWN DIRECTLY INTO THE FUCKING SUN.
YOU ARE NOT LIKE ICARUS. THE ICARUS MYTH DOESN’T APPLY. SHUT THE FUCK UP.
So they get in the helicopter and Christian makes some sketchy comment about Ana being in the harness and basically how he wants to bang her again, but he just gets in and starts flying the helicopter, and is all happy because he loves flying. Whoop-di-doo.
He grins his boyish grin. Wow–I’ve not seen it for so long.
They start flying and Christian points out different buildings, including the Space Needle, which Ana says she’s never been to.
“I’ll take you–we can eat there.”
What? “Christian, we broke up.”
“I know. I can still take you there and feed you.” He glares at me.
What, are you going to take her there and force-feed her, you controlling bottle of fucks?
This whole meeting never should have happened. This is why you do your best to avoid your ex for at least like a month after the break-up. Otherwise weird shit like this happens.
Also Christian clearly has no idea what “breaking up” actually means.
The dusk is to our right, the sun low on the horizon–large, blazing fiery orange–and I am Icarus again, flying far too close.
Are you even serious right now.
This is a joke.
This has to be a joke.
I refuse to believe this is an actual published novel that is one of the best-selling books on Amazon.
PEOPLE ACTUALLY THINK THIS BOOK IS WELL WRITTEN.
They land in Portland safely, with no fiery explosions or deaths.
…I’m not going to lie, I’m a little disappointed.
Jeez, it’s been hardly any time at all. Yet I feel like I’ve known Christian for a lifetime.
YEAH EXCEPT YOU STILL KNOW ALMOST NOTHING ABOUT HIM OTHER THAN HOW BIG HIS DICK IS.
YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO COMMUNICATE WITH HIM.
YOU’RE TERRIFIED OF HIM.
YOU ARE RIDICULOUS.
They get in a car to be driven to José’s show, and Christian is all brooding again, and asks Ana to promise that she’ll eat. She agrees, even though she shouldn’t because it’s none of his fucking business what she does with her body, but whatever.
Honestly, the audacity of this man–this man who has put me through hell over the last few days. No, that’s wrong. I’ve put myself through hell. No. It’s him. I shake my head, confused.
FIFTY SHADES DARKER: THE MOVIE. STARRING ANDY SERKIS AS GOLLUM AS ANASTASIA STEELE.
I would pay so much money to see that.
SO. MUCH. MONEY.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Anastasia. I want you back, and I want you healthy,” he says softly.
What? What does that mean?
IT MEANS HE WANTS YOU BACK, IDIOT. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK IT MEANS.
“But nothing’s changed.” You’re still fifty shades.
Okay, I get it, that’s the title of this series, very clever.
Except that I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT FUCKING MEANS.
Are you trying to say that he’s still fucked up?
JUST SAY “YOU’RE STILL FUCKED UP.”
ENOUGH WITH THIS FIFTY SHADES BULLSHIT.
IT’S NOT CLEVER. IT’S NOT INTERESTING. IT’S JUST STUPID.
Ugh I’m going to murder whoever allowed this book to happen.
So Christian says he wants to talk after José’s show, so they go inside.
The place the photography show is at is fucking huge, and Ana thinks something about how José has realized his dream.
I want to live in the world that this book is set in. I want to live in a world where an English major can graduate from college without having an email address or a computer and can still manage to land a full-time job at a publishing company a week or two after graduation. I want to live in a world where a photography student who hasn’t even graduated college can land a photography showing at a really huge, nice gallery where rich people will come and pay for his work.
I want to live in that world because IT IS CLEARLY A FANTASY THAT DOES NOT EXIST.
I graduated with a degree in Creative Writing about…oh…2 months ago? I had a 4.0 GPA, connections to relatively well-known authors, aaaaaannnndddd I’m still looking for any job that will pay me. I never even had hope for a full-time job, especially not one with a publishing company.
These things can happen, but you have to put in A TON of really hard work, and even if you do put in all that work, a lot of times things still don’t work out.
E.L. James has invented a ridiculous fucking fantasy land in which nothing makes sense. There’s nothing even remotely realistic about half of this stuff. Everyone is rich. Everyone is realizing their dreams. Nothing bad ever really happens.
Fuck. This. Book.