Yes, we all know Fifty Shades of Grey is a total guilty pleasure smut read that is in no way quality literature, and many people find the book to have no redeeming qualities, but for the millions of people who do, I think they are drawn to because it gives them a touch of something they find appealing in a relationship.

Maybe it’s money.

Or dominance.

Or having your wrists handcuffed to your ankles.

I don’t judge.

For me, it was wanting Andy to be more dominant in the relationship, even if that meant he was the one to decide where to order take out from. I’m that easy, y’all.

So, as part of my birthday gift, Andy agreed to read the Fifty Shades books, and at the close of book one, I’m already seeing some marked changes.

Like last night when he tried to order for me at dinner, which, as you know, is a very Fiddy sort of thing to do.

And the pretty lady will have shrimp fajitas, no tortillas, and with no onion, she has gastric bypass.

What?

What?

I have gastric reflux, and we also don’t have to tell everybody.

It’s a process.

 

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