No Valentine for Mr. Grey on this comely, winterly day

Remember when everyone was just happy to “do it” and then take a little nap afterwards? Now expectations of love and sex have risen to levels of unreasonable — and even impossible — absurdity. Why? Because of a silly Brit-lit/chick-lit novel (and series) called Fifty Shades of Grey.

Now hearts and flowers and declarations of love aren’t enough. Now lovers must put on blindfolds and drip molten wax on each other. Now they must be bound in silken cords and play games of power and control in the boudoir. No, wait. There isn’t a real boudoir anymore — it’s too “romantic” for Mr. Grey and his issues.

Needless to say, healthy, well-adjusted people don’t have to inflict pain to show their love.

Let’s break it down further for readers who have trouble separating what fictional characters do in chapters vs. what real people do in real life. There’s love. There’s sex. There’s sex as expression of love. Then there’s sex that leaves you hurt and sad and black and blue.

Be smart: Always pick sex that’s an expression of true love.

Take the love and romance and joy of loving and being loved. Keep the hearts and flowers and happiness. But please, leave the freaky, hurtful crap for fictional characters — not real-life people like you and your sweetheart.

And if that special someone doesn’t want to smack you around and treat you like dirt, please, please don’t be disappointed. Be glad you’ve found a real Valentine.

Here’s a Valentine’s Day poem for everyone who’s fed up with the soft S&M porn from Fifty Shades of Grey that masquerades as a journey of love:

Unchain my heart — NOW!

Who knew that Fifty Shades of Grey
would completely ruin my Valentine’s Day…

Poor Dan Cupid’s surely aghast
Oh, how long will these shenanigans last?

Sweetest love stories ever told
got side-tracked and kinky, then put on hold,
when something nasty stuck to that blindfold!

It’s not enough to fall deeply in love,
now you must be freaky with feather-glove.

Alas and Alack! Hot wax burns my back!
And motorboating with no lake to splash,
invites Love to injury and to rash.

Love’s comely arrows make me cringe,
with expectations for S&M binge.

But if I have to tie thee up
instead of just loving thee up,
we might as well pack it up tight,
then go do our grocery shopping tonight.