WHO AM I?
Trevor, a 31-year-old bookstore employee, aspiring author, online film critic (aka, guy who bitches a lot about movies) and Creative Writing grad student.
WHY AM I DOING THIS?
It’s time for a change. Don’t worry, I’m not making some bullshit political statement or anything – I’m talking about myself. After more than three decades on this earth, it’s recently struck me that I haven’t been living my time up to the fullest. Sure, most people could say that, really, unless you’re somebody really important like a Justin Timberlake, a Steve Jobs or even a Jared Fogle. Those guys are out there doing things, man, actually living life. Well, not Steve Jobs anymore, but you get the point. I, on the other hand, am a 31-year-old retail clerk. And hey, nothing against retail…well, no, actually, retail can sort of suck it on some days.
A recent bout of self-examination has led me on a path to finally start making something of this as yet squandered mess I call a life. I’m starting grad school in the fall, have begun eating healthier and joined a gym…basically, I’m starting all the shit that hopefully someday will be covered in a two-minute “this is when he finally got his shit together” montage in the movie they will one day make of my life. But good health, education and a career can only get you so far. There is still one area of my life that needs work. And that’s my standing with the ladies.
The phrase “unlucky in love” was coined for guys like me. And hey, I’ll be the first to admit a big part of that rests right on my shoulders. Nervousness, a lack of confidence, a tendency to over-think things beyond any sort of rational meaning, an inability to stop collecting comics or loving Doctor Who…I’m guilty of all of it. But through it all, I never really felt like I was that clueless. Until recently, that is, when I started an off-hand statement with the sentence “look, I know about girls,” and this prompted near-uncontrollable laughter from two of my female friends. Well…that just won’t do.
So if I’m going to truly begin this “Trevor 2.0” phase of my life, I know I need to finally get my act together in the romance department. And what better way to do that, really, than to get into the mind of women, and explore what it is they’re really looking for. Thankfully, I’m in luck, because something has recently come along that will help me do just that – the “Fifty Shades of Grey” trilogy of books by author E.L. James.
If you somehow don’t already know, “Fifty Shades of Grey” is the hottest thing going in the literary world right now. Seriously, I work at a bookstore, and at least every third transaction is selling one of these things. Dubbed “mommy porn,” the series is a kinky, BDSM-filled tale of the love affair between a recent college graduate and a young business magnate. Oh, and it also started as “Twilight” fan-fiction. I shit you not.
This thing has caught the publishing world by storm, and I can confirm from my own experiences how popular it is with women (not to mention creepy older men who say they’re buying it as “a gift,” but c’mon man, who are you fooling? I know, man…I fucking know). Although my initial inclination is to simply mock the whole thing, it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps these books are the key to unlocking the super-lover within me. Will reading “Fifty Shades of Grey” uncover some heretofore buried, primal side of me, unleashing a sexual beast that will cause the women of my area to both hide in fear and yet somehow not resist? Or, more likely, will I just make fun of how terribly written this crap is?
Only time will tell, but then that’s the point. This site is a chapter-by-chapter review of the books. I will be analyzing the book on multiple levels, including story, form, eroticism, etc. And I will also periodically rate how much better of a lover I am thanks to the book. Now, of course, you might say that’s not something I alone can determine, and you’re probably right. But, well, hey, shut up. If you’re really that concerned about it (and you’re a good looking girl), well, feel free to e-mail me and maybe we can figure something out. But, see, now that sounds sleazy, and I’m already off to a bad start. Shit, I guess I might need this book more than I thought.
One last thing – as already mentioned, I’m a 31 year old guy. I am NOT a bored housewife frustrated with my sexual life. I am NOT a hormonal “Twilight” fan disappointed that Stephenie Meyer didn’t have the guts to take her books as far as they needed to go. And I am NOT a creepy old man (at least I like to think I’m not…I guess the jury is out on that one). So I understand I am not exactly the target audience for these books. If you ever think I’m being unfair or too harsh or anything, you’re almost certainly right. But it is what it is.