State your hypothesis in the form of a prediction that can be verified by the results of the experiment.

I can be quite the charming fellow once I've been introduced to a girl through mutual friends. Using our friend-in-common as a neat segue into polite conversation, I make a few observational quips, throw out a couple of compliments, find out about what she does for a living, make a sly mention of my unorthodox day job, lube it all up with a few drinks and let my outrageous accent do the rest. It never fails. Well, it succeeds more than it fails, I guess.

But I always fail — quite miserably, I might add — at going in cold. Striking up a conversation from zero is daunting. But with ten winning lines in my pocket, and Nerve picking up my bar tab, I should be golden, right? Right?

Please list all the materials required for this experiment (including, if applicable, how they were obtained).

Pick-up lines (ten)
Sake (three flasks, warm)
Pinot Grigio (one glass, large)
Gin and tonics (four, strong)




In this portion of your report, you must describe, step-by-step, what you did in your lab. It should be specific enough that someone who has not seen the lab can follow the directions and recreate the same lab.

click image to view gallery "There actually is a party in my pants".

I've never really used a pickup line before, mainly because I think they're creepy. Regardless of how much booze I've downed, I've always thought that beer-burping, "How'd you like your eggs , scrambled or fertilized?" in a stranger's ear at 3:15 a.m. is wrong. Wrong with a side of upsetting.

Why do people use pickup lines? As I was reviewing hundreds of contest entries, I found myself asking this question over and over. Here's what I came up with: it's a cruel world, and sauntering up to someone and saying, "Hello, I think you are very pretty, and based on that drunken appraisal, I'd like to buy you more alcohol and engage in some open-mouthed kissing before the bar staff turns on the lights and we realize we're woefully different leagues" . . . well, it's just too much information. The line is a quick, efficient, combination offense/defense mechanism. But couldn't a line actually work? Our contest winners were picked for their absurdity, sure, but isn't humor supposed to be attractive?

I asked my friend Brian, a seasoned philanderer, about pick-up lines and the dirtbags who wield them. He gave me these insights. "Look, here's the deal. Whenever you're approached by a complete stranger, you're going to put your guard up. That's what people do. The pick-up line is just a device to show that you're comfortable with yourself and comfortable striking up conversation with total strangers. It's a projection of positivity!"

Actually, it seemed more like a mental Riverdance, and I generally lose patience with that kind of shit. I'm not the only one. I once met a wily old Noo Yawk music executive who would hang out on a streetcorner in the '50s and ask any woman who walked past, "D'ya wanna fuck?" He said that for every fifty women he propositioned, one would take him up on his crude offer. That, he said, was worth all the slaps.

To me, it's ultimate proof that if you throw enough shit at the wall, something is bound to stick.

So I decided to give it a go. The parameters of the experiment were set. Instead of going to some dive bar at 2:30 a.m. , where I could try the lines out on someone who was so drunk that she wouldn't remember anything the next morning anyway , it was decided that I would go to a Ford model party. That's right. A gathering of scary, high-visibility, coke-fueled glamazons looking to network and be seen. Exactly where I should be cutting my teeth. Talk about being thrown in at the deep end.

A few hours before the party, I thought would be wise to try some of the lines out on Carrie. I readied a cheat sheet of the winning contest entries:

    1. "Look. I hope you won't take this as any sort of 'line,' but there literally is a party in my pants, and you actually are invited. I know how it sounds . . . "
    2. "I'm going outside to make out: care to join me?"
    3. "I have a window office."
    4. "I may not have gotten your virginity, but can I have the box it came in?"
    5. "You give me the hardest semi I've ever had."
    6. "Hey baby, wanna go halfsies on a bastard child?"
    7. "Do you believe in sex before the first date?"
    8. "Honey, your dad doesn't have a penis. He's got a paintbrush!"
    9. "You are the most interesting piece of ass I've talked to all evening."
    10. "So . . . when are you gonna let me up in them guts?"

click image to view gallery You are most interesting piece of ass".

Brian volunteered to coach. While Carrie mimed smoking a cigarette and looking disinterested, I walked right up to her and stammered, "Er . . . Do . . . do . . . you believe in . . . er . . . sex before the first date?" "Time out!" screamed Brian. "Say it like that, and of course you're going to get a bad reaction. Watch!" He swaggered up to Carrie, who lit up another imaginary Galouises. "Look at me. I'm approaching from the side. Don't square off with a stranger; that connotes confrontation. Remember this: confrontation. You can lightly touch her elbow, you know. Now, it's going to be loud in there, so you're going to have to strike a balance between getting yourself heard and invading her personal space. Okay, space!"

With that, Brian used his hands to section off an area around Carrie's head and torso. "Confident stance, deliver the line." He turned to Carrie and, in the style of Kenickie from Grease, oozed,"Hey! [beat] Lemme ask you somethin'. [beat, beat] Do you believe in sex before the first date?"

Carrie, the cynical Manhattan native and scar-bearing bar veteran, damn near swooned. Within seconds, she was closing her imaginary bar tab and searching her pockets for the ticket for the imaginary coat check.

"SCENE!" said Brian, clapping his hands and looking smugger than ever before.

"That's how it's done, Grant," offered Carrie, fanning her face.

I tried again. This time, all of my colleagues were yelling encouragement and criticism: "Stand up straight," "Saunter!" "Lightly touch her elbow. You're cutting off her circulation!" I tried to inject more life into the line, but I sounded like Oliver Twist asking for more gruel. Carrie looked as if she'd caught a whiff of something horrid. "No," she said in answer to my question and turned her head.

I realized that I had to give this positivity thing a helping hand. An hour before the party, I met up with a friend for a light dinner of edamame washed down with a sumo-sized helping of sake. After a glass of white wine for the road, I was projecting positivity all over the place. In fact, I almost projectile-vomited all over Second Avenue.