Friday, June 22, 2012
50 Shades of Embarrassment: Naiveté in the Local Bookstore
My older sister, bless her heart, is a very devout (although liberal and equality-championing) Christian who is extremely active in all things related to her church. She is the girl who has never smoked a cigarette (although she did dress her husband in a thong and take pictures of him when he drank too much and passed out on their honeymoon). She is the woman who channels her nursing background into a Diabetes support group every Thursday night (and one time when I was little, she tried to shove my face in the cat litter box). The point being, she's a very upstanding citizen with great intentions (who is sometimes too innocent for her own good).
Case in point: Yesterday she shared a story with me and some other family members about how she went to our cute small-town bookstore to ask for a donation for her church's upcoming charity auction and, after the owner happily obliged, she decided to pay the store back by purchasing a book of her own.
Naturally, she asked if they had that "Fifty something" book.
The owner's teenage daughters looked at her funny and tried to recommend something else.
"No, I know my cousin and all her friends are reading that 'Fifty shades' book—or whatever it is," my sister insisted.
Suddenly the owner appeared and asked, "You mean 'Fifty Shades of Grey'?"
"Yes! That's it!" she exclaimed. Victory.
"Do you know that's an adult book?" the owner asked in a lowered voice.
Sister, horrified replied in a hushed voice, too—"Like pornography?"
"Yes, we don't even keep it out on the floor. It's back behind the counter."
Then my sister proceeded to turn fifty shades of purple and try to explain that she had no idea what the book was about—just that everyone was talking about it so it must be interesting.
I'm sure the bookstore owners thought it was unsettling and unfortunate that the nice donation-seeking church lady was actually a full-fledged pervert porn addict.
I hadn't shared this story with Mr. W yet, but today he came home from Costco with a copy of the book for me to read. I wasn't planning on buying it myself, but if my husband wants to try to make me all randy, I guess I have to obey, lest he bust out a ski mask and a whip.
Like the bookstore in Montrose, we'll be storing our copy somewhere out of sight.