Review: It's Probably Just Me
Rating: 3 out of 5
Date: 09 11, 2013
Warning: There are spoilers in this review!This book is not a sequel. It is, in fact, the second part of the first book in this "series". So, if you want to read this book, you definitely should read "Same Page" first. This book continues less than thirty seconds after the last one ends, with no transition at all.In essence, this is a 748-page book divided in half and released under two titles - both of which, of course, you pay for.And that's what really bugs me. It shouldn't have been a 748-page book, it should have been a 200-page book. The plot is interesting, although hardly unique: rich, famous movie star meets artist and after many trials, they become lovers until, of course, they get outed. See what I mean? And, be advised, it even has the obligatory "attacked-in coma-in hospital-recovers" scene.But the story itself was well-written, involving, the characters at least interesting, and the obstacles they face create the opportunity for some real emotion to surface, both joy and tears.However, what is nearly unforgivable, in my mind, is that there are less than 200 pages (to be generous) of actual story and more then 500 unrelenting pages of sex, sex, sex. Repetitive sex. Absurd sex. "The Race Is On" should be subtitled "The Viagra Book".They wake up in the morning and have sex. Then they take a shower together and have sex. Then they make breakfast where they are likely to have sex on the tabletop. Then they go out to the veranda and have sex. Then they hike up the mountain and have sex at the top. Then they come back and shower and have sex. Which leads to dinner, and sex. Then they shower again and have sex. Then they go to bed and have sex, starting the cycle all over again.Boring, endless sex. Sex without end.And when the author runs out of ways to write a sex scene without lifting it, word-for-word, from the previous one, she introduces almost bizarre additions to their sex lives in a feeble attempt at creating "interest".For example, one of the pair (the actor) has never bottomed. He desperately wants his lover inside of him.Unfortunately, his lover (the artist) refuses to top, for fear he will hurt him. So, he orders graduated, designer stainless-steel butt plugs and insists that his lover wears them for a week before he will go near him. I mean, give me a break? If it required stainless steel butt plugs before a man could bottom, 95% of the gay men in the world would still be virgins today!!Another is the "intimate" moment in which the two clean each other out with enemas... that was a real "Ew!" moment for me, and I'm not squeamish, believe me. But it was an obvious reach - one more attempt to manufacture sex.You get the drift. A semi-interesting story with a few good emotional moments wrapped in endless filler sex scenes. As with other reviewers, it got so out of control that I ended up skipping thirty pages at a time (that's how long some of the back-to-back sex scenes lasted). I was so relieved to get to the climax of the actual story at the end of the book - a well-written appearance on Ellen! And then the book ended, of course, with a sex scene.By the way, I wasn't too thrilled by the fact that both main characters named their penises and had sometimes long, in-depth, conversations with them. I mean what? To add insult to injury, they give their butts names too. How cute? How bizarre!I must confess that I regret spending interminable hours reading this epic. It feels like hours that I will never get back.Therefore, I do not recommend it highly. It's up to you. If you like, literally, hundreds of sex scenes in a book, go for it. If you like a story about men together, their relationships, their character and their love, there are so many other books that cost a lot less and eat up far fewer hours than this one.