Could I Seduce Megan Gogerty? A Thought Experiment by Brad Pitt
I mean: probably, right? I’m Brad Pitt!
This is a response to How I Might Seduce Brad Pitt, by Megan Gogerty.
I could probably do it.
I dunno, though. Seducing. That’s a big concept. When was the last time I had to seduce someone? I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I don’t seduce women so much as star in movies with them, and then we inevitably get close through the process of movie-making — thrown together, war buddies, you get it — until eventually we’re going everywhere with each other and getting the same haircuts. Then we’re a couple until the pressures of fame drive us apart.
But seduction? Like, take a regular person I’m not starring in a movie with from, like, the parking lot to the bedroom? I’m not saying I’m not up to the challenge, I’m just saying, it’s tricky.
And Megan Gogerty has me at an advantage here, because she’s seen all of my movies (I presume) and I know next to nothing about her. I mean, I follow her on Twitter. I know she’s doing that rollerskating thing. That’s about it.
I was watching this concert film from 1971 or something, of Elvis Presley in Vegas. And this is when he was at the top of his game, doing karate, looking good in that jumpsuit. It was before all his back problems and everything. He was great, right? What a presence. And he’s cycling through all his hits, and when he gets to “Love Me Tender” — I think it was “Love Me Tender” — was it “Love Me Tender?” — let’s say it was “Love Me Tender” — he kisses all the women in the audience. All. The. Women. During the song. Mind blowing! He starts with the women at the foot of the stage, but then jumps off the stage and works his way through the audience, kissing everybody — old ladies, little babies, all the women. At one point he makes a joke like he’s gonna kiss a man (homophobia: I’m against it), and the whole time he’s singing and, like, sneaking kisses in between the lyrics. And understand, these weren’t little pecks on the hand. There were full on-the-mouth kisses! This is a guy who is NOT worried about germs!
And what a ride for these women, right? I mean, I’ve been in Hollywood for decades and I’m pretty immune to celebrity at this point, but if I had the opportunity to kiss Elvis friggin’ Presley, I would go ape shit, and so would you. He, like, transcends the Kinsey scale, you know what I mean? (Have you seen that movie? Kinsey? Liam Neeson? Mind-blower.)
So I’m watching this concert on HBO, right? And I’m watching all these women in their beehives and their cat-eye glasses having this erotic moment, right, getting macked on by Elvis Presley, and this is no doubt one of the hottest things that has ever happened to these women. Can you imagine? You, like, grow up with Bobby socks and pony tails and Elvis is your matinee idol and now you’re seeing him in concert and he’s all sweaty and so fucking good at singing, and you’re, like, in the presence of his flesh, and this thing you’ve been dreaming about, y’know, what must it be like to kiss Elvis is suddenly not theoretical anymore, you know? All four lips (your two and his two) are connecting. I don’t want to be crude, but you gotta carry that experience with you, right? You go home to, like, Henry the car salesman or whatever, but you have this experience you can revisit in your mind that really happened. That’ll get you through some cold nights.
But as I was watching it, I was thinking, what’s this experience like for Elvis? You gotta imagine he enjoys it. I’m sure it’s not in his contract, like he has to kiss all the women in his audience. If he didn’t want to do it, he wouldn’t do it. He must want to do it! Maybe it’s a fantasy for him, too, like: I could kiss all these women and then he does! You can tell he really digs being a sex symbol, and I get that. I mean, I know I’m a hot hunk of man meat, and that’s fun.
But Elvis is also, like, weird, right? Like, he was warped by fame. And I like to think of myself as a regular guy. A regular guy with a beach house, but still. Maybe it’s because I hang out with Clooney and those guys — sorry to drop names, but I am Brad Pitt, this is my actual life — and when we’re at Clooney’s villa in Tuscany, we just try to keep it chill and regular. It grounds me. Did you see Ocean’s 12? Terrible movie, but look how grounded I was! That’s because of those guys.
So my fantasy is not to get with a movie star — that’s my reality. But it’s also not let’s kiss all the women in the audience. That’s, like, too much. That’s weird.
What’s my fantasy? I’m not sure. Let me think about that.
In the meantime: Megan Gogerty. How would I go about it? I don’t think I’d pull an Elvis, just show up and be like, “See my abs? Let’s get sexy.” I’d like to approach it in a more normal way.
Maybe I’d cast her in a movie.
In the movie, I would be a burn patient (I gotta get freaky in my movies, otherwise it’s not interesting to me) wrapped in bandages like a mummy, right? And she would be my doctor. So, like, she couldn’t even see my abs. Maybe my abs were burned away! No way of telling at this point. And as she heals me, we make this soul connection, because all she can see of me is my eyes, and she feeds me soft foods with this long spoon, and there’s lots of shots of me eating the pudding on the spoon. Keep in mind my face is wrapped in bandages, so it’s very art-film. Then in the third act, she takes off my bandages real slow, almost like stripping, only it’s tender, and — surprise! My abs were there all along! And they’re totally healed and we get sexy on the operating table or whatever.
I know, I’m describing the plot of the movie, not the real-life seduction. But it’s important that we’re lovers in the movie so that we have lots of scenes together and lots of reasons to get intimate. For research purposes, you understand. You don’t even want to know how I prepped for the Oceans movies! (Okay: I played poker with the guys and that’s it. It was cool! We should make another one of those.)
So we’re in a movie together, and there’s some rehearsal, and the shoot, and we’re on location away from everything. And there’s nobody really to hang out with on location, it’s just the movie people. So it becomes like summer camp, you know how you would form these intense bonds over camp in, like, a week? That’s how it is on location.
This is my shot.
And I know she’s married, but, like: who hasn’t been married once or twice? And if a marriage can’t weather an on-location affair with a movie star, is it even a good marriage? Think about it!
I’m not talking down the institution of marriage; I would never say a bad thing about any of my exes. I’d just have my publicist leak unflattering stories in People Magazine. I’m kidding!
You know what? This is a thought experiment. Let’s sweep away the ethical implications for now. Let’s take marriage off the table. (No, for real! Let’s end the concept of marriage! I’m joking.) She’s not married, I’m not married, nobody’s getting in trouble here. We’re just two consenting adults, starring in a burn-victim romance movie being shot in Tuscany, hanging at Clooney’s villa and living our best lives.
And we’re just talking normal stuff: protein powder recommendations, and haircuts (“I like your haircut,” I tell her, and she loves this), movies we’ve seen and starred in. Regular talk.
And she’s smart, right? A professor, I think? See: here’s what I know about smart people. They’re never as smart as they want you to think. They go around going, “Oh, I’m smart!” They think that will protect them. But you can’t outsmart a six-pack and the confidence of a guy who made 12 Monkeys. You know what beats smart every time? Lust. Every time. It undoes you.
We are animals. We have passions we don’t fully understand. We’re motivated by the tides, and pheromones as much as, or even more than, cold logic. What does logic get you? You wanna talk about wisdom? Let’s talk about the wisdom of the body. The body knows what it wants, even if what it wants is forbidden or impossible — maybe even especially then. We are beholden to ourselves.
Boom! And guess what, suckers! I did it! I just seduced Megan Gogerty! It was so easy. 1.) Cast her in a movie. 2.) Get her relaxed. 3.) Bring the conversation around to sex, but in a cultured way. 4.) Show her my abs. Done. Let’s get sexy.
Brad Pitt! Seduction champion!
I gotta admit, I love being desired. It’s a thrill. I mean, yeah, the paparazzi is a pain, and I don’t like the intrusions into my personal life, and fame is a prison, and I don’t have normal stuff like a Costco membership or an “email address,” but you know what I do have? Everything else.
Give my love to your mom.
(Note: You understand this wasn’t actually written by Brad Pitt, right? You understand satire and stuff, right? Also I don’t have the rights to that Thelma & Louise picture. The Internet! It’s wild out here!)
