It usually takes me a while to get into whatever the hottest trend in books is. I didn’t read the Twilight series until all the books were out (should have kept waiting). I didn’t pick up Harry Potter until right before Deathly Hallows came out (Loved it, can’t believed I waited so long). Picked up The Hunger Games an entire year after Mockingjay came out (best. books. ever.)

Well, with all the furor over 50 Shades of Gray, I decided…not to read it. First, I’ve read enough around romancelandia to believe that it wasn’t the kind of book I’d be into anyway. I’m not really a BDSM kind of girl, despite having control freak issues.

Anyway, so if you haven’t already read it, the Romance Man did a post called 50 Shades of Murder where he talks about him and his wife’s foray into playful BDSM. If my husband and I ever tried it, I imagine it would be something hysterical like the Romance Man’s description.

But, I was curious now about all this BDSM floating around out there so I picked up a BDSM book. I’m not going to name names because that’s not the point of this post. The point is, I read it. The writing was really solid so it wasn’t some poorly written drivel. The characters were believable.

Maybe it’s just me, but the idea of having a clothes pin attached to any part of my anatomy, let alone my girl parts just doesn’t do anything for me. The idea of being completely tied up and called a whore while someone did really freaky shit to me doesn’t appeal to me.

Days later, I still felt…like I’d done something bad. Maybe it’s the Catholic girl in me but I felt like I’d crossed over and read something I wasn’t meant to read. And the reason I couldn’t get it out of my head was because…well, I’m not built that way.

Back in 2004 when the Iraq war was just getting down and dirty, the video of Nick Berg being beheaded was going viral on the internet. Honestly, I had no desire to watch it but some folks in the officer turned it on and well, there I was. So I stayed. And to this day, I cannot get the sounds of his screams out of my head.

I want to be clear that I’m not equating BDSM novels or the lifestyle with a snuff video.

My point is that maybe I’m not meant to read certain things because they have a stickiness factor. I don’t want to hear Nick Berg screaming in my head. I don’t want to keep visualizing the feeling of having a clothes pin stuck to my girl parts. I’ve seen enough bad shit in my life that I don’t need any fantasy adding to the echoes in my head.

So I’m not reading 50 Shades of Gray. Because I’ve discovered that I’m perfectly fine being plain old vanilla.