Now that I have read all three books of Fifty Shades of Grey, twice, and nobody in my house has had anything to eat for at least two weeks, I have decided to leave my husband for Christian Grey.

First of all, as far as pornography goes (or “erotica” as this is called), it actually wasn’t that good.

FYI: If you are going to be my fantasy man, I do not want to have sex seven times a day. Really, I am good with two or three solid rolls in the hay, after which I will probably want a nap.

However, there are some very compelling reasons why Christian Grey was the best sex I ever had, and why if he shows up at my door, my husband is in trouble.

Men, take note:

Ladies first.

And second. Almost every time, he was a gentleman in the sack. Love that.

The R8.

Oh my God! He gives Ana a white Audi R8 for her birthday. He had me at vrooooom.

The staff, especially Mrs. Jones.

If I never had to make dinner again, I’d be delighted.

The publishing company.

No more fussy editors or dealing with Amazon.com.

The house in Aspen.

This would be very handy for a Colorado family.

However, the main reason I will probably not run off with Mr. Christian Grey is that he’s not George Clooney. And everyone knows I am saving myself for him.

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Editor: Brianna Bemel