The good news is the event was just a book signing, not a reading. A reading from Fifty Shades of Grey would be the most cringe-inducing half hour I could imagine. And the way it's written, it seems possible that James can't read.
Look, I've read it. It's smut. And while I have nothing at all against smut, what I can't understand is kind of person who would say the words "Can you autograph this copy of my dirty fantasies?" Even Wm.™ Steven Humphrey wouldn't do something that base—and he's the worst.
Thus, while I was skulking around the incredibly long line at Powell's, I kept wondering to myself, "Who are these people?"
According to my sources at the store, people started lining up at 9am. So for starters, these are morning people. When they have faux-kinky sex, they do it first thing or, as I like to call it, Breakfast of Champions.
It goes without saying these were mostly women. There were some men, although I counted only two that were unaccompanied. More than once I heard the phrase, "My husband is holding my place in line." Since these women are so turned on by this book about a domineering man, I wanted to tell each of these guys that it would really wind up their wives if they had said "no" to baby-sitting their spot in line. I didn't, though—because I was afraid of their wives.
The lack of men actually produced an amazing opportunity. If you were a single dude looking for a patient, newly kinky woman, you couldn't have done better than the ladies waiting all day to get Fifty Shades signed. There were more horny, jealous women here than a dozen bachelorette parties.
More surprisingly, there were as many children as men. The creepiest thing I overheard from the line was "Mommy, can we go to the pink room after this?" Golly, I hope the pink room has books on parenting.
Similarly, there was at least one woman wearing a shirt for the preschool she works at. That seems like a bad idea at a smut signing, but is definitely better than bringing the preschoolers along.
There were also older women. No surprise there; old women are filthy.
So to answer my question ("Who are these people?"), I have a few observations.
-> They were the kind of women who make friends with other people in long lines.
-> They could safely be described as "giggly."
-> They were the kind of women who cry after a brief interaction with their favorite author.
-> This was their first exposure to erotica. (Good news, ladies. All of it is better than this.)
-> All of them, including James herself, seemed really nice.
Overall, I think it's great for society that this many women are willing to publicly wait to meet the author of kinky starter-smut. I'm not judging anybody. Well, except the women who brought their kids. I'm judging the shit out them. And Wm.™ Steven Humphrey, who is the worst.
