The Beautiful People

I have two female friends that will be attending the 77th Oscars this Sunday. I thought it would be fun to put together a little pre-oscar gift bag for them with some items that might come in handy. I put in some gum, lip gloss, and clear nail polish in case they got a run in their panty hose. As a gag, I also included some flavored and scented condoms. The joke being that they might find themselves in a situation where they could sleep with a famous movie star. This kind of got the wheels in my rusty old head turning. If I were going, and I started getting cozy with Keaunu at an after party, would I accept the offer to go back to his place? Now granted that's a notion that probably seems too fantastical to entertain. How many of us, women and men, have thought about "doing it" with someone that we saw on TV the night before, or up on the big screen last weekend, all the while knowing it would never happen. But here in Hollywierd, that fantasy becomes a little less ridiculous.

I had a co-worker who was at a dinner party with Topher Grace. An acquaintance who was being romatically pursued by Jamie Foxx. A friend who dated one of the stars of The Usual Suspects. In this town, things get a little fishy. And if you're young, and you're cute, and you're in the right place at the right time, you never know just what might happen.

What could be a righter time and a righter place than the Oscars? Could it be as easy as slipping into a utility closet at the Kodak theatre? Hot, lustful, completely meaningless sex? Let's analyze further. It isn't that I don't care about Christian Bale, I have always thought he was very attractive and quite a good actor. But I also don't really know him from a hole in the wall. I have no idea what kind of person he is. And most likely in the scenario we are talking about, he probably wouldn't be focusing on anything else other than my cleavage. So why do it? Well, he's hot, so there's the whole physical attraction factor. But what if he's an asshole? Refuses to kiss me on the mouth? Only acknowledges "his needs"? How do you look at yourself in the mirror the next morning when you know you've been just one in a hundred, maybe one in a thousand of women he's had in the past year. You are no more than a droplet in the ocean. Not even big or important enough to make a single wave.

Sleeping with Mr. Hot Movie Star would certainly be something that I would remember for the rest of my days, right? So is that why I would do it? For the memories? The stories? So I could tell my daughter one day that I got down with Tom Cruise in the back of his limo? That when he said goodbye to me, he asked me to tell him my name again because he had already forgotten it?

Makes you think doesn't it.

Still...