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I’m alive! Barely. My nose is full of snot, but that’s okay. No guarantees that I’ll be able to post on Wednesday, but I should be able to on Friday. We’ll see.
ALRIGHT. Recap time!
So, Chapter 2 was…a doozy.
Christian comes back to find Ana has fallen asleep without her swimsuit top on, and he. is. PISSED. Because she is his property, and how dare she expose herself without his permission on a topless beach where literally everyone else is topless. The nerve of her, right? So Christian is all pissed because the paparazzi could have seen, because apparently the paparazzi follow him around, even though he’s literally the least interesting person to follow (unless you know about his creepy murder room). Ana doesn’t even argue, she just meekly goes along with it and feels really bad. They get on some jet skis to go back to the boat, and I guess the jet skis just fix everything? And suddenly Christian is less mad? They get back to the boat, and Christian offers Ana a drink, and Ana asks if she needs one, and Christian encourages Ana to drink so that she’ll be more willing to take part in his weird punishment sex bullshit. Apparently Ana now LIKES punishment, even though she spent the last 2 books being FUCKING TERRIFIED OF IT, but she still has to pretend like she doesn’t like it or something? I have no fucking idea what is going on. Then we get a flashback to some family breakfast, where tensions run a little high because Christian’s father wants them to get a prenup, and Christian is all OMG NO DAD U DON’T EVEN KNO ME. ANA LUVS ME AND WE’LL B TOGETHER 4EVER. And Ana feels really uncomfortable during the whole thing. Cut back to the present, where Christian condescendingly tells Ana that she’ll “get used to” having money. They go to the bedroom, where Christian handcuffs Ana (after telling her not to pee), and then they have super intense 30-second (maybe they’ve graduated to a full minute) sex. They finish, fall asleep, and then Ana wakes up to go pee. As she’s washing her hands she freaks out and says “Holy fuck! What has he done to me?” Which I’m sure bodes well.
Let’s get this show on the road!
I gaze in horror at the red marks all over my breasts. Hickeys! I have hickeys!
Apparently Ana and Christian are in FUCKING HIGH SCHOOL.
WHEN THE FUCK DID HE GIVE HER HICKEYS. I DON’T REMEMBER ANY HICKEYS HAPPENING DURING THEIR WEIRD PUNISHMENT SEX. So, what, did Christian just give Ana a whole bunch of hickeys while she was asleep? How…charming.
Either way. They’re fucking hickeys. Who gives a fuck.
How did I not feel him doing this to me? I flush. The fact is I know exactly why–Mr. Orgasmic was using his fine-motor sexing skills on me.
You guys. This is a best-selling novel. It’s one of the best selling series of all time. And…that line exists. HOW DO PEOPLE TAKE THIS BOOK SERIOUSLY. People spent actual money on this book just to read that line…wow. What a time to be alive.
I gape at my reflection. My wrists have a red welt around them from the handcuffs. No doubt they’ll bruise. I examine my ankles — more welts. Holy hell, I look like I’ve been in some sort of accident.
THE ACCIDENT IS CALLED YOUR MARRIAGE.
No but seriously there is a reason people use fuzzy handcuffs instead of real ones. Real ones can leave some real bad marks. But oh, did Christian not really explain that to you? Were you never aware of the extent of the pain that the handcuffs could cause? HMM. IT’S ALMOST LIKE CHRISTIAN GREY IS EITHER DANGEROUSLY NAIVE (which I doubt, because he’s been doing this for a hell of a long time) OR HE’S KNOWINGLY WITHHOLDING INFORMATION ABOUT THE ACTIVITIES HE WANTS TO DO WITH YOU, THEREFORE MAKING INFORMED CONSENT IMPOSSIBLE.
WOW IT SOUNDS LIKE HE’S AN ABUSIVE MOTHERFUCKER. HOW. BIZARRE.
How dare he mark me like this, like some teenager. In the short time we’ve been together, he’s never given me hickeys. I look like hell. I know why he’s done this. Damn control freak. Right! My subconscious folds her arms beneath her small bosom–he’s gone too far this time.
WHY ARE YOU MORE UPSET ABOUT THE HICKEYS THAN ABOUT THE WRIST WELTS.
HICKEYS DON’T HURT. WRIST WELTS DO.
YES IT’S KIND OF SHITTY THAT HE DIDN’T ASK YOU IF YOU WERE DOWN WITH HICKEYS.
IT’S FAR MORE SHITTY THAT HE INSISTED ON USING A DEVICE THAT HE KNEW WOULD CAUSE VERY OBVIOUS PHYSICAL HARM TO YOU WITHOUT FULLY EXPLAINING THE AMOUNT OF PHYSICAL HARM IT COULD CAUSE.
WHY ARE HICKEYS “GOING TO FAR” BUT WRIST WELTS ARE JUST FINE.
NOTHING MAKES ANY FUCKING SENSE.
I guess Ana has just spent so much time with Christian that she’s lost her fucking mind.
“Anastasia,” Christian calls and I hear his anxiety. “Are you okay?”
I ignore him. Am I okay? No, I am not okay. After what he’s done to me, I doubt I’ll be able to wear a swimsuit, let alone one of my ridiculously expensive bikinis, for the rest of our honeymoon. The thought is suddenly so infuriating. How dare he?
DID WE JUST ENTER A PARALLEL UNIVERSE WHERE WRIST WELTS ARE TOTALLY FINE BUT HICKEYS ARE GROUNDS FOR A DIVORCE.
BECAUSE I AM HAVING A HARD TIME FIGURING THIS SHIT OUT.
I can behave like an adolescent, too! Stepping back into the bedroom, I hurl the hairbrush at him, turn, and leave–though not before I see his shocked expression and his lightning reaction as he raises his arm to protect his head so that the brush bounces ineffectively off his forearm and onto the bed.
Well that was an unnecessarily long sentence. Good job, E.L.
But seriously what the fuck, Ana. “I can behave like an adolescent too?” YOU’RE A FUCKING IDIOT.
THIS IS NOT HOW A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP SHOULD FUNCTION.
WHEN YOUR PARTNER DOES SOMETHING THAT UPSETS YOU, YOU FUCKING TALK ABOUT IT. YOU DON’T STORM OFF AND THROW HAIRBRUSHES. THAT’S CALLED BEING A FUCKING CHILD AND YOU SHOULD BE OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW BETTER.
Do you have the right to be mad? Yes. Should you take that anger out on Christian by throwing shit at him? NO, because that’s FUCKING STUPID, and doesn’t solve ANYTHING.
FUCK THIS WHOLE BOOK.