Last weekend I was on vacation (yes, again!), and spent some time by the pool. I noticed at least three people reading the book Grey by E. L. James. For those of you on another planet, this book is in the group of the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy. It’s an extra book the author has floated in.
So of course I had to download the book to see what all of these young suntanned people were reading.
These books are novels which contain a lot of sex. I mean a LOT! The trilogy is told from the point of view of the heroine and the Grey is told from the man’s point of view. I’ll let you guess which one is loaded with more sex talk and which one is more romantic. If you don’t care for the words “f***” or “baby”, Grey is not for you. But if you like a good old-fashioned sex story with whips, chains, and graphic sex, this is your novel.
Actually, I wasn’t that shocked. The author has sort of taken bondage, etc. and made it vanilla enough for the general public. They made a movie out of this thing and I’m sure there will be sequels.
This is not a book review. I just wanted to share a little about sex and how I process it. Because I think it is a little different when you are bipolar.
As an aside, have you noted some weird things on Viagra and Cialis commercials? First, they spend a lot of time on the beach just strolling along. Second, the woman usually looks quite a bit younger than the man. Weird, huh? Okay, well back to my sex story.
My mother had me when she was 18. So the first thing I learned about sex was “don’t do it, you’ll get pregnant and ruin your life.” Now this was a mixed message. After all, did I ruin my mom’s life? I think not…she did that all by herself.
When I was in high school, I didn’t have a lot of opportunities for sex. I was thought of as a “goody-goody” and no one approached me. (No one approached me for drugs either and this was around 1976.) I think our school was too poor for drugs…I don’t know. I do know that there was a lot of talk about the girls who had sex. Some of these were even my friends who had sex with their regular boyfriends. This sort of made me mad and wary. I mean, gee, did guys have to blab everything? I thought the whole thing was embarrassing.
On the other hand, I was extremely depressed during much of high school. I’m sure my moping around did not encourage a sex line. But I did have my manic times. I would get “crushes” on guys and stalk them all around school and drive by their houses. Fortunately, looking back, none of these guys liked me.
College was different. I was chased by an assortment of guys, but no one really interested me. I finally got bored with the whole sex thing and decided to “do it” with this good natured guy I met through friends. I don’t think I was manic, but the next part sure was. I decided that since I had sex with this guy, I had to MARRY him. I was 19 and boy was this ever a bad idea.
I whipped together a quick but nice wedding and off we went. I knew as we were pulling away from the church I had made a mistake. So sex had a big influence here…a bad one.
Fast forward four years. We are separated and I am manic. I start hitting on everyone…my best friend’s husband (I know he thought I was nuts), a guy where I worked, a girl where I worked (didn’t want sex but wanted her to “like” me), and my dentist. I also chased my boss around even though he had six kids and was grossly overweight. (I was pretty good looking at this time). The guy I worked with took the bait. He was sorry as I made his life hell.
So the divorce was final and I never saw my ex again. Good riddance. He was seriously the most boring guy on the planet and not just in bed.
I met my current husband while manic. After my divorce, I had the idea I should get married again and FAST! This time I hit on two guys at a different job, the mailman (don’t ask), a neighbor (he was single), and an old friend from high school. The old friend from high school became the victim this time. But I met my husband and he was willing to put up with the mania. He had no idea about bipolar, but I think he thought I was exciting. I had a good job at that time and was making good money.
I crashed the same day the Challenger did. (I remember sitting in a doc’s office watching it on TV.)
I’ve been married thirty years and have stayed with my husband. But when “manic”, I develop crushes on people, male or female. This always kills friendships, causes job loss, and endless grief. And these poor victims of my mania don’t deserve it. Neither does my husband, although he doesn’t usually know what is going on.
So there you have my sex story. No whips or chains. No novels about it. No movies, either.
BTW, since this is a bipolar blog, I forgot the depressive side. That’s okay, as I forget about sex then too. If it’s not the depression, it’s the meds. Sigh.
Back to my sexy novel I go. Yeah, baby!