“I’m just going to keep my expectations at the absolute lowest,” she said, “and then maybe it will be okay.” She’d read The Atlantic story about the BDSM community’s objections to Fifty Shades, and was worried she was in for two hours of artfully lit emotional abuse. When we met up for a quick drink beforehand, Lia confessed she wasn’t really looking forward to the movie. She said yes, with a shruggie emoticon - no contract needed. A willingness to endure potentially awkward movie screenings was the chief - probably the only - criterion I had for my plus one, so I asked her if she wanted to be my official Fifty Shades date. She’d read the Gone Girl post, and, coincidentally enough, had also seen the movie on an early internet date. Lia (not her real name) messaged me after we matched on Hinge. And so, when my Gone Girl first date went off without either of us slitting the other’s throat mid-coitus, my editor decided to raise the stakes and send me to another movie, one that he figured would be even more embarrassing to sit through with a stranger: the erotic hit of the season, Fifty Shades of Grey. The first rule of online publishing: If something works, keep doing it until it doesn’t. Jamie Dornan (left) and Dakota Johnson in Fifty Shades of Grey.
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