By now it would seem that everyone on the planet, and beyond, maybe even Mars, all generations, all ethnicities, has heard about the ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ phenomenon. There are three in a series of novels that chronicle the sexual adventures of a wealthy young man and his virgin girlfriend. They engage in an exploration of dominance and submission and erotic play that has the whole planet rocking.
Blogs and mainstream articles and discussion groups have sprung up all over creation seeking to understand the amazing appeal of this story. Most agree that the writing is sophomoric, the erotica soft, at best, the characters not well drawn, but the popularity lingers. The New York Times Best Seller list rates all of the books in its top ten.
So here’s my observation, no my overwhelming sense of amazement, that the adoration of these books by women of all ages has not inspired the curiosity of men. That’s right. Despite the facts, men appear totally intimidated and ego challenged that they cannot read it themselves.
Honestly, how weird is that. Women are practically screaming, “Read this!! I love this! This makes me horney!” What? No takers.
I have asked some men when the book comes up in conversation if they’ve read it. They pretty typically look at me in awe. Of course not, that’s chick lit. Or, haha, what? You think it’s going to teach ME something?”
Now maybe they’re reading it on the sly, under the cover of brown bags, but I really don’t think so. It seems like the whole idea just terrifies them or at least offends their maleness. They so resort to stereotype, know it all “Studly”, it’s just laughable.
And, by the way, not to single out anyone, or be pin- holing, but the black men I’ve had a few words with at the bar, are the worst. They think it’s just hysterical. They, who many women find the essence of phallic perfection, are just plain offended at my suggestion
So, yes, Yellow, as in cowardice.
And by the way, I don’t think any clinical or sociologic interpretation of why these books are so popular really matters.
The books are fun. Plainly, fun. They’re just good stories. A diversion. And if it puts women in touch with their aroused selves, it’s worth every ca-ching of the bookseller’s cash register.
And to you Yellow guys, What a missed opportunity.