We’ve given you the thinking woman’s guide to Fifty Shades of Grey, the “mommy porn” literary sensation that just sold to Hollywood for millions of dollars, but there is still one notable quirk we need to discuss. In the book, virginal Anastasia Steele is deflowered by the impossibly dashing, 27-year-old ginger billionaire Christian Grey, a sexual dominant who asks Anastasia to fill out an S&M contract a mere day after taking away her hy-hy. The contract stipulates that Anastasia must agree to “address him only as Sir [or] Mr. Grey,” and reader, that’s not gonna be easy: Anastasia (and author E.L. James) are positively obsessed with saying the full name “Christian Grey” at all times, a stylistic tic even more prevalent than the heroine’s hilarious habit of blurting out, “Holy crap!” Vulture has collected each and every time Christian Grey’s full name is used in the novel; consider it a literary supercut that also works as a CliffsNotes guide to what exactly goes down in this S&M sensation. Which Christian Grey sentence about Christian Grey is your favorite? (Christian Grey.)
“Miss Kavanagh.” He extends a long-fingered hand to me once I’m upright. “I’m Christian Grey.”
No man has ever affected me the way Christian Grey has, and I cannot fathom why.
I’m glad I can make my shift as it gives me something to focus on that isn’t Christian Grey.
We talk no more of Christian Grey that evening, much to my relief.
Then, for some reason, I glance up … and find myself locked in the bold gray gaze of Christian Grey who’s standing at the counter, staring at me intently.
Oh my. Christian Grey’s lost look.
When I glance up at Christian Grey, he’s watching us like a hawk, his gray eyes hooded and speculative, his mouth a hard impassive line.
“Er, Paul, this is Christian Grey. Mr. Grey, this is Paul Clayton.”
“Wait up — not the Christian Grey? Of Grey Enterprises Holdings?”
“Kate, he’s just trying to be nice.” But even as I say the words, I know they’re not true — Christian Grey doesn’t do nice.
“So, how come you know Christian Grey?” Paul’s voice is unconvincingly nonchalant.
“Christian Grey in Clayton’s. Go figure,” Paul snorts, amazed.
When she explains at reception that we’re here to photograph Christian Grey CEO, we are instantly upgraded to a suite.
Half an hour later, Christian Grey walks into our suite.
My heart slams into my mouth. A date? Christian Grey is asking me on a date.
“Christian Grey has asked me to go for coffee with him.”
I emerge from the suite to find Christian Grey waiting, leaning up against the wall, looking like a male model in a pose for some glossy high-end magazine.
I am going to have coffee with Christian Grey… and I hate coffee.
I’m in the street, and Christian Grey is holding my hand.
I simply can’t believe I’m sitting opposite Christian Grey in a coffee shop in Portland.
I’m staring at Christian Grey’s exquisitely sculptured mouth, mesmerized, and he’s looking down at me, his gaze hooded, his eyes darkening.
What was I thinking? I scold myself. What would Christian Grey want with you?
There was that guy in my chemistry class who liked me, but no one has ever sparked my interest — no one except Christian damn Grey.
Do I need a visual reminder of the beautiful Christian I-don’t-want-you Grey?
I have not let myself dwell on Christian Grey for the past week.
Christian Grey is swearing at me. I giggle again.
Holy crap, did I just call Christian Grey? Shit.
Only Christian Grey could sound so calm and so threatening at the same time.
Holy shit! Christian Grey, he’s here. How?
I have a few choice words for my so-called friend, none of which I can repeat in front of Christian Grey CEO.
The last thing I hear before I pass out in Christian Grey’s arms is his harsh epithet.
Oh shit. I’m in Christian Grey’s suite.
Christian Grey’s sweat; the notion does odd things to me.
I want Christian Grey. I want him badly.
The Christian Grey Inquisition is almost as irritating as the Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition.
I’d like to solve the riddle that is Christian Grey sooner rather than later.
I have my second date with Christian oh-so-mysterious Grey.
I’m going to Seattle by helicopter with Christian Grey.
And it dawns on me that I have slept with Christian Grey, and I kick myself — what would I have given to be conscious to watch him sleep?
Christian Grey, Greek god, wants me, and I want him, here… now, in the elevator.
“Wow. Ana Steele, finally falling for a man, and it’s Christian Grey — hot, sexy billionaire.”
My inner goddess glares at me, tapping her small foot impatiently. She’s been ready for this for years, and she’s ready for anything with Christian Grey, but I still don’t understand what he sees in me … mousey Ana Steele — it makes no sense.
Yes, I want to be in Christian Grey’s bed.
Please him! He wants me to please him! I think my mouth drops open. Please Christian Grey.
Christian Grey thinks I’m beautiful.
Finally, after all this time, I’m going to do it, with none other than Christian Grey.
Christian Grey’s feet … wow … what is it about naked feet?
Christian Grey has a sad side.
Beside me, Christian Grey is fast asleep.
I have to try and categorize and analyze my feelings for Christian Grey.
I came here to spend the night in Christian Grey’s bed, and managed it, even though he doesn’t let anyone in his bed.
My tongue swirls around the end. He’s my very own Christian Grey flavor popsicle.
Quickly, he clambers out of the bath, giving me my first full glimpse of the Adonis, divinely formed, that is Christian Grey.
“José? And Christian Grey? Ana, your pheromones must be working overtime.”
MR. CHRISTIAN GREY of 301 Escala, Seattle, WA 98889 (“The Dominant”)
Christian Grey likes scale — I think of his living area, in fact, his whole apartment.
I have an e-mail from Christian Grey.
He hangs up, and I go back to restocking the paintbrushes and thinking about Christian Grey and his contract.
Christian Grey just sent me a winking smiley … Oh my.
Christian Grey is sitting on my bed.
My sigh is exasperated. He’s not going to let this go. “Christian Grey.”
“You have a date with Christian Grey?” he says finally, once he’s over the shock.
“Must be Christian Grey.”
“And also a major benefactor to our university, please welcome, Mr. Christian Grey.”
Ethan has his arm around my waist when I look up into the frosty gray eyes of Christian Grey.
“Have you met Ana’s boyfriend? Christian Grey.”
Holy cow… my mouth drops open, my subconscious is in shock. Christian Grey is up for more!
Holy cow. Christian Grey is sleeping with me, and in the comfort and solace of his arms, I drift into a peaceful sleep.
I open my eyes, and I’m draped in Christian Grey.
Christian Grey is late and flustered.
Oh my, Christian Grey spent the night with me, and I feel rested.
Yes. I’m an adult, thank you for reminding me, Christian Grey, and it is my choice.
And the biggest change of all is Christian Grey. Taylor thinks he’s a good man.
Ladies, Good luck in your new home, Christian Grey. Kate shakes her head in disapproval. “Why can’t he just write ‘from Christian’?
Holy crap. I’m in the paper. I check the caption. Christian Grey and friend at the graduation ceremony at WSU Vancouver.
No man is an island, I muse — except perhaps Christian Grey.
Oh, the many faces of Christian Grey. Will I ever be able to understand this mercurial man?
I am in Christian Grey’s vast bed minus one Christian Grey.
“And where do you see yourself in five years’ time?” he asks. With Christian Grey, the thought comes involuntarily into my head.
Damn Christian Grey, interfering control freak — he just can’t leave well enough alone.
I hit Google images and enter ‘Christian Grey’ into the search engine.
He gives her the heart-stopping, Christian Grey patented, full-blown-no-prisoners-taken smile.
Hmm, another piece of Christian Grey’s underwear — a trophy to add to my collection — along with the car, the BlackBerry, the Mac, his black jacket, and a set of old valuable first editions.
Seven minutes later, I am in the living area, scrubbed, brushed and dressed in jeans, my camisole, and Christian Grey’s underwear.
Who would have thought … ? Christian Grey at IHOP.
Gah! Like the fool I am, I cannot resist the lure of Christian Grey’s words.
I need Christian Grey to love me.