Fifty Shades of Multiple Personalities

Dakota Johnson as the many-demeanored Anastasia Steele (Image source: www.fiftyshadesmovie.com)

Dakota Johnson as the many-demeanored Anastasia Steele (Image source: http://www.fiftyshadesmovie.com)

It’s almost here – the movie that every rabid, silly E. L. James fan has been dying to see, “breath hitching” and all. We, too, are eagerly awaiting this film, if only to see how this primo, magnificently ridiculous boner of a series will get its adaptation. We’re definitely hoping that the choicest of quotes make their way onto the screen, because we can barely contain our hilarity seeing them on the page. For the weeks leading up to the film’s release, we’ve found our favorite cringe-worthy, creep-tastic, and comical quotes from this tome. We hope you enjoy them as much as we did. 

As you may already know, Fifty Shades of Grey is first-person narrated by young, barely out of college, virginal Anastasia Steele. Anastasia is…Well, she’s a little naive at best, kind of dumb at worst, and she’s got some inner monologue that sounds textbook crazy. Her inner goddess/subconscious moments make for some of the weirdest running commentary (well, if they don’t talk does it still count as commentary?) we’ve ever read. The best is their seemingly split personalities and absurd taste in attire – spinster, cheerleader, red hula skirts…

  • “‘Books,’ I whisper, but inside, my subconscious is screaming: You! You are my thing!
  • “I flush at the waywardness of my subconscious – she’s doing her happy dance in a bright red hula skirt at the thought of being his.”
  • “Oh, he’s affected all right – and my very small inner goddess sways in a gentle victorious samba.”
  • Try and be cool, Ana, my tortured subconscious begs on bended knee.”
  • “‘Sugar?’ For a moment, I’m stunned, thinking it’s an endearment, but fortunately my subconscious kicks in with pursed lips. No, stupid – do you take sugar?
  • “My subconscious is figuratively tutting and glaring at me over her half- moon specs.”
  • “My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves.”
  • “My inner goddess sits in the lotus position looking serene except for the sly, self- congratulatory smile on her face.”
  • “My subconscious sounds sane and rational, not her usual snarky self. My inner goddess is jumping up and down, clapping her hands like a five- year- old.”
  • “This beautiful man wants me. My inner goddess glows so bright she could light up Portland.”

Ha! My inner goddess is thrilled. I can do this. I can fuck him with my mouth.”

  • “My subconscious screams at me. My inner goddess is doing back flips in a routine worthy of a Russian Olympic gymnast.”
  • “‘Right – bondage,’ he says, returning to the list. I examine the list, and my inner goddess bounces up and down like a small child waiting for ice cream.”
  • Go girl! My inner goddess has her pompoms in hand – she’s in cheerleading mode.”
  • “My limbs are deliciously heavy, sated. My inner goddess has a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the outside of her room.”
  • “He wants me to be embarrassed and ask for my panties back, and he’ll either say yes or no. My inner goddess grins at me. Hell… two can play that particular game. Resolving there and then not to ask him for them and not give him that satisfaction, I shall go meet his parents sans culottes. Anastasia Steele! My subconscious chides me, but I don’t want to listen to her – I almost hug myself with glee because I know this will drive him crazy.”
  • “My inner goddess sighs with relief. I reach the conclusion that she rarely uses her brain to think but another vital part of her anatomy, and at the moment, it’s rather exposed.”
  • “From his inside pocket, he produces my panties. I don’t grin as I take them from him, but inside I know – I’ve taken a punishment fuck but gained a small victory over the panties. My inner goddess nods in agreement, a satisfied grin over her face – You didn’t have to ask for them.
  • What did you expect – that you’d grow horns and a little pointy tail? My subconscious snaps at me. And what the hell are you doing? Touching is his hard limit. Too soon, you idiot. He needs to walk before he can run. My subconscious is furious, medusa- like in her anger, hair flying, her hands clenched around her face like Edvard Munch’s Scream. I ignore her, but she won’t climb back into her box.”
  • “I look to my subconscious. She’s whistling with her hands behind her back and looking anywhere but at me. She hasn’t got a clue, and my inner goddess is still basking in a remnant of post- coital glow. No – we’re all clueless.”
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