Considering all of the hype, I wanted this book to transport me to a sexual fantasy theme park where my wildest dreams involving Ryan Gosling would come true. But it pretty much succeeded in doing the exact opposite (and I’m not even talking about the Gilbert Gottfried reading). There is a very specific moment in this book where Fifty Shades of Grey took a turn from exciting anticipation to wondering if Justin Bieber was ghostwriting for E.L. James: right about when “Laters, baby” entered the situation.
That, along with countless other scenarios that made my reproductive organs want to run screaming from my body:
1. Christian pulls Ana’s bloody tampon out of HER ACTUAL BODY before boning. That scene alone made me never want to have sex again.
2. Gliding. Soaring through the air in a plane with no engine. If any man ever suggested that to me I would punch him in the head.
3. Two silver, metal balls on a string meant to be shoved up one’s body cavity for sexual pleasure? The last time I shoved an inanimate object in an orifice was to stimulate a bowel movement. I’ll pass, thanks.
4. These 70-year-old women love this book.
5. Why is this Taylor guy always lingering around, and what’s the deal with his side job as a car salesman?
6. There is a time and a place for helium-balloon gifts from your paramour. And it’s called Valentine’s Day in the 6th grade.
7. Belt lashings remind me of Roots, not knocking boots. Hey-o.
8. The last time I had to hear so much about someone’s “inner goddess” was in college when I was reading The Mists of Avalon.
9. Christian is otherworldly attractive, well-groomed and incredibly particular. I know a number of fellows just like this. And they are all Fifty Shades of Gay.
10. And finally, “Laters, baby.”
What does “laters, baby” mean? Yahoo! explains: Basically, it means “See you later, baby.” I also guess that since it was pretty much the first time Christian said “Goodbye” to Ana, and called her “Baby” (from Ana’s perspective), then that could be the significance. I don’t know why people think there is a deeper meaning to it.
“It would be most ungallant of me to say, and I have already been chastised for that. But if you behave yourself, I may tell you this evening. I do have to go into a meeting now. Laters, baby.”
“You know me so well, Miss Steele. I’m having dinner with an old friend now, so I’ll be driving. Laters, baby.”
Two relatively harmless words that make me want to break someone’s neck.
After spending five years as a hedge-fund assistant, Katie Ligon now has a wealth of time on her hands. She lives in Brooklyn.