On a recent girls’ night out, I caught a showing of “Fifty Shades of Grey.” I wanted to see for myself what all the R-rated fuss was about. But instead of getting hot and bothered like I was supposed to, I just got, well, bothered.

To me, billionaire playboy Christian Grey wasn’t so much a sexy suitor as a creepy predator. He kept showing up uninvited in Anastasia Steele’s life and ordering her around. Though my daughter’s only four, I couldn’t help flashing forward and thinking that I definitely wouldn’t want her dating this guy when she’s a senior in college.

So, yeah, I’ve officially gotten to the age where instead of identifying with the young heroine in a movie, I imagine that she is my child. Which is why I was silently screaming, “Get off her, Christian—that girl is somebody’s daughter!” for most of the movie.

Let’s put aside the kinky sex for a moment and talk about Christian’s personality deficits. He’s got a temper, never smiles and doesn’t “do” relationships. A young woman should run from this man. But Anastasia does not, and I had a hard time understanding why. He’s definitely handsome and has a nice butt, but those dead shark eyes of his did nothing for me. In the hardware store scene, when Ana jokes that Christian must be buying all that rope and masking tape because he’s a serial killer, I thought, yeah, that sounds about right. He and Ted Bundy probably would have been pals.

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