Date #68: The Ashton Kutcher

Nick was the one who set us up.

I was on a date with his friend Chris, a guy he'd known since high school, and things weren't exactly going well.

CHRIS: I'm basically just bored with everyone.

Chris was a secondary education major about to finish college. He had an intellectual flair about him. One of those no-nonsense, I do my own taxes, wash the car every Tuesday types. He had a little bit to drink, and I think it was loosening him up to the point where he felt he didn't need to put on the usual dating facade.

CHRIS: It's just becoming so tedious to do this.
ME: This being?
CHRIS: Dating.
ME: Oh.
CHRIS: I'm sure you wouldn't understand.
ME: Maybe not 67 dates ago, but now--
CHRIS: I'm sorry, what?
ME: I've just been dating a lot in the past eight months.
CHRIS: Recent break-up?
ME: More like a reawakening.

Chris had another drink, and that's when the talk turned purient.

CHRIS: Can I ask you something?
ME: Why not?
CHRIS: Are you ever bored with sex?
ME: Um...

The truth was, the last sex I had was great, but it was with Scooter. I might have been avoiding sex's phone calls, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to text it sometime in the near future when my self-control finally surrendered.

I decided to go another route with my answer.

ME: ...I've been bored with sex, yes.
CHRIS: And then you weren't anymore?
ME: Then things got better.
CHRIS: How?
ME: Just like anything else. I kept at it.

Yeah, call me a whore, but it's true. Everyone has sexual highs and lows, but if you let it scare you off the field, the game will...the coach...yeah, gay men should not attempt sports metaphors.

CHRIS: The past three guys I've had sex with were just so boring.
ME: I'm sorry to hear that.
CHRIS: One of them was my boyfriend of three years.
ME: Ouch.
CHRIS: More like 'Eh.' It was so bland. Routine.
ME: That's natural after a long relationship.
CHRIS: It got 'eh' after the first week.
ME: And you stayed for three years?
CHRIS: Yeah, because people kept telling me it was natural...

Was that a dig at me?

ME: Hey, I'm just trying to perk you up a little till the check comes.
CHRIS: Yeah, clearly this is going nowhere.
ME: I wasn't going to be that harsh, but--
CHRIS: I mean, you're cute. If I thought I'd have a good time I would be trying to get you into bed right now. I could use a night of meaningless sex. But unfortunately, as I said, sex seems to do nothing for me these days.

It was the way he said it. So methodical. Like--"Sorry, Mr. Broccoli. The tumor seems to be malignant, and now I have a golf game to get to."

ME: This might sound a little egotistical of me, but maybe you just haven't had sex with the right person yet.
CHRIS: Oh, so you think you're going to break my streak?
ME: If that's a euphamism--
CHRIS: I suppose if you think you can wow me, it's worth a shot. Should I get the check?

I know what I should have done. I should have just told him he was an asshole and walked right out of the restaurant after throwing money on the table for the bill...but I didn't.

Have you ever seen someone so cocky that you just wanted to...have sex with them...? Plus, he was just so put-together, I wanted to see if he was even capable of letting loose a little. Part of me worried it would be like having sex with Mr. Roboto.

BRIAN: And was it?

Brian was the first to hear about my little escapade. I was hoping Chris 'Eh' wouldn't mention our little tryst to Nick.

ME: It wasn't actually all that bad.
BRIAN: Would you go back for seconds?
ME: Absolutely not. This was strictly to...
BRIAN: To what? Meet the challenge?
ME: I'm sorry, but when someone sits there and tells you he doesn't think you'd be any good in bed, what other choice do you have?
BRIAN: Inform him that he'll never know and then never speak to him again.
ME: I'm sorry. But I happen to be a little more competitive than you.
BRIAN: Wow, you've been getting sluttier and sluttier with each passing week.

And that was without him knowing about me and Scooter.

ME: It's probably just spring fever.
BRIAN: It's not spring yet.
ME: Fine. It's pre-spring fever. I'm peri-twidderpated.
BRIAN: Oh, that's just sad.
ME: The ending of the story is--I proved my point.
BRIAN: Did you? How do you know he enjoyed himself?
ME: Because a guy like that doesn't pull punches. Had I been awful, he would have taken great joy in letting me know that he was right about me.
BRIAN: And he didn't?
ME: No, he actually asked me out again.
BRIAN: And you said?
ME: Fuck off.
BRIAN: Bravo, Slutty.

After lunch, Brian and I went over to his apartment to help Nick and Turner move. Turner was moving out into his own place on the west side, and Nick was taking his room.

BRIAN: My third roommate in under a year. I feel like I'm in the Real World: San Francisco.
ME: And who would Puck be?
BRIAN, NICK, and TURNER: Scooter.

Oh, Christ... I've had sex with the Puck guy.

NICK: So I just have one question for you, Mr. Broccoli.
ME: Shoot.
NICK: What the hell is the Ashton Kutcher?

I froze. Everyone stopped packing Turner's things into boxes and looked at me.

TURNER: The Ashton Kutcher?
NICK: I'm not one to discuss bedroom activity in public, but since we're all friends here--my buddy Chris told me that you did some sort of freaky-deaky move on him--
ME: Oh, come on, Nick.
NICK: --That he just looooooooved.
BRIAN: There you go, he was satisfied.
NICK: He was more than satisfied. He was fascinated. He's dying for more.
ME: Well, he's not getting any more.
BRIAN: What did you do to this guy?
ME: I'm not going to talk about this.
BRIAN: Nick, what did he do to this guy?
NICK: Chris was actually too shy to say it.
TURNER: Wow.
NICK: He did say that Kevin refers to it as the 'Ashton Kutcher.'
ME: I didn't mean to tell him what it was called. I wasn't thinking. It was one of those after-sex talkbacks where the audience gets to ask questions.
TURNER: It involves an audience?
BRIAN: Why is it called the Ashton Kutcher?
TURNER: Does Chris look like Ashton Kutcher?
NICK: He's black.
TURNER: Oh.
NICK: As a matter of fact, he and I were wondering if it's a white thing--to do whatever it is you did.
ME: Can we stick to the moving please?

And that was that. They all laughed and went back to packing. Truthfully, I didn't want to discuss it for several reasons.

1) To talk about a "move" is kind of cliche. Seinfeld did an episode about it, and so did L.A. Law ("The Venus Flytrap). The only difference is that those moves were just made up by writers, whereas the Ashton Kutcher is an actual move, but still--it's been done before and I feel like a hack just writing about it.

2) It's not exactly something that I'm comfortable describing to people. I'm not the squeamish type, obviously, but there are still things I'd like to keep sacred (this from the guy who publishes everything in a blog, I know, I know).

3) I know I'm not the only person whose ever done it, or knows how to do it, or anything like that, but as long as I keep what it is to myself, I feel like I know some hidden trick that nobody else does.

Of course, now that everyone knew there was a move, they weren't going to let up until they knew what it was.

ME: Hello?
TURNER: Hey.

I was at home watching television, and just enjoying some downtime.

ME: Hey Turner, what's up? How's the new place?
TURNER: It's okay. Hey question, does it involve the 70's?
ME: What?
TURNER: The Ashton Kutcher. Does it involve the 70's?
ME: How would something involve the 70's?
TURNER: I don't know. I just figured because Ashton Kutcher was on That 70's Show--
ME: Actually, it involves having sex and then screaming out 'You've been punk'd!' and showing them the camera crew.
TURNER: Kevin--
ME: Good-bye, Turner.

I got to watch ten more minutes of Dog the Bounty Hunter before the phone rang again.

BRIAN: Hey.
ME: Hey.
BRIAN: Nick and I want to know if it's that thing where you pull the guy's hair and--
ME: Have you two just been sitting around using your new roommate bonding time to discuss what my little sex trick might be?
BRIAN: We've been pooling our theories.
ME: Look, I obviously can't keep it from you, so just call up Chris and ask him.
BRIAN: He won't talk.
ME: Good for him. Maybe I should give him a second chance after all.
BRIAN: Normally I wouldn't care so much, but Nick said this guy is impossible to please sexually and somehow you did it.
ME: Did it ever cross either of your minds that maybe I'm just--I don't know--good in bed?
BRIAN: Yeah, I can't really see that.
ME: Good-bye.

I got another hour of quiet before the next call. This one wasn't as surprising.

SCOOTER: Hey.
ME: Hey.
SCOOTER: So...how have you been?
ME: Scooter, it's only been a couple days.
SCOOTER: Yeah, but the last time we talked...We didn't really talk, it was mostly moaning...
ME: I'm not really comfortable having this conversation.
SCOOTER: You're not going to cut me off, are you?
ME: Of course not. And if I do it'll just be because you're you, not because we had sex.
SCOOTER: Okay, fair enough.
ME: Okay.
SCOOTER: So do you want to come over?
ME: Scooter--

I assumed this was just the typical...Well, when referring to Scooter, the term "booty call" doesn't seem appropo--it's more like an ass yodel.

Wow, saying "ass yodel" really paints an ugly picture, doesn't it?

SCOOTER: C'mon, we'll have a good time.
ME: I'm going to have to pass.
SCOOTER: But...I want to know.
ME: Want to know what?
SCOOTER: ...What the Ashton Kutcher is.
ME: Who told you?
SCOOTER: Brian called me to see if I could get it out of you.
ME: What an asshole!
SCOOTER: I was more offended that you didn't do it with me.
ME: How do you know I didn't?
SCOOTER: Hey, don't get me wrong, it was great. But it wasn't anything...original.
ME: You've done so much with so many people, I doubt there's any chance of surprising you, Scooter.
SCOOTER: True enough. So did you do it with me?
ME: No!
SCOOTER: Well why not? Aren't I good enough for the Ashton Kutcher?
ME: If you knew what it was, you would know why we didn't do it.
SCOOTER: Does it involve peeing on the guy?
ME: Good-bye Scooter!
SCOOTER: Hey, one more thing--why'd you have sex with someone right after you had sex with me?

That came as a bit of a surprise. Was he actually hurt?

ME: I'm sorry. I didn't realize--
SCOOTER: Next time call, and we can all hang out together.

And there we go, ladies and gentlemen. Scooter is still Scooter.

ME: Goodnight, Scooter.
SCOOTER: Goodnight.

The next day I had nine text messages from Brian, Turner, Nick, Scooter, and a few other people who happened to be contacted by them--pleading with me to tell them what the Ashton Kutcher was. As someone who hates being left in the dark about things, I could understand the wanting to know, but I still wasn't going to give it up.

The only time I picked up my phone all day was when Dwight called.

DWIGHT: Hey.
ME: Hey.
DWIGHT: Don't worry. I'm not calling about the Ashton Kutcher.
ME: Who told you about it?
DWIGHT: I read Scooter's livejournal.
ME: Scooter has a livejournal?
DWIGHT: Yeah, it's pretty twisted. It's a little like reading the gay postings on Craig's list.
ME: Why is he posting about me?
DWIGHT: He put out a call to all gays that might know you to see what the AK is.
ME: Now it's being shortened?
DWIGHT: Do you call it that because after you have sex with the person you can't find your car?
ME: Dwight--
DWIGHT: How about this--show it to me.
ME: What?
DWIGHT: I want to know what it is. I figure if I can make it worth your while--
ME: Have you lost your mind?
DWIGHT: I'm sorry. I've been in this house with my mother for so long--I haven't been out on a date, or...had any kind of relief.
ME: Major TMI going on here.
DWIGHT: And now I read about all your crazy sexual antics--
ME: Um--
DWIGHT: --And it's just too much!
ME: Scooter doesn't mention any kind of...favorite blog or something...does he?
DWIGHT: No, why?
ME: I told him about this guy's blog that I liked, and I wanted to see if he mentioned it.

Hey, who knew what else Scoot was spilling?

I figured after awhile, the hubbub would settle down regarding the AK--Oh great, now even I was shortening it. I just couldn't understand why gay guys put so much stock into sexual prowess? It wouldn't matter if Chris told Nick that I was really charming, or funny, or sweet. Everyone would just shrug that off as someone else's perception. They wouldn't come clamoring to find out if I was charming, funny, or sweet. They wouldn't want to know what jokes I told, or what Chris and I talked about, or why he thought what he thought. But mention that something is interesting about someone sexually and suddenly you've piqued their interest.

And the move isn't even all that interesting. All I do is--

FRIEND: Please, bitch, I invented that move.
ME: Yeah right. Along with apple-tinis and sarcasm.
FRIEND: And don't you forget it.
ME: Why is this such a big deal to everyone?
FRIEND: Because charming you come across twice a day, but a man who knows how to work your headboard is hard to find.
ME: I don't think that's true.
FRIEND: Oh, go throw some pennies in a fountain and pray for true love then, Pollyanna. Daddy's being realistic here.
ME: I guess everyone's just going to stay fascinated forever then, because I'm not telling anyone what it is.
FRIEND: I'll give you a blowjob if you tell me.
ME: No.
FRIEND: Two blowjobs?
ME: You think I'm objecting due to the quantity?
FRIEND: It can't be quality. I've won awards.
ME: Good-bye Friend.
FRIEND: Bye Honey.

If it's going to cause this much of a ruckus, maybe I should just retire the Ashton Kutcher altogether...

...Nah.

PS. Since you're devoted blog readers, I'll give you a bit of info: I call it the Ashton Kutcher, because the first time I tried it, I was watching My Boss' Daughter. Now you can see why I'd be ashamed to admit why I named it what I did. Who wants to admit they were watching a bad Terrence Stamp/Ashton Kutcher comedy while having sex...or at all? Maybe I should just call it the Terrence Stamp...