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Dare Me? What...s a Party Without Trying Some Lines?

By Sarah Buckley

You ever read those articles in “Cosmo” about “How to decode your man’s behavior?” They make it seem like guys are these multifaceted creatures full of complex desires and varied interests — as if the subtle nuances of a man’s smile could belie his true, innermost feelings.

It’s time that “Cosmo,” women, and gay men realize that guys aren’t really that hard to figure out. I see men as those old computers: all big and clunky and capable only of the most binary thoughts. Now, before you go accusing me of being a hairy feminist, realize that (a) I just shaved my pits and (b) I think men are better that way.

At least they don’t waste countless hours analyzing situations with their male friends, wondering what a girl’s shade of lipstick says about her. (And while we’re on the topic of feminism, did you guys see those promotional posters lining the Infinite with students and staff wearing “I am a feminist” T-shirts? Wouldn’t it be wicked funny to get some topless chick pictured with that slogan written in lipstick across her boobs? But I digress.)

I was chatting with some girlfriends the other night. After the naked pillow fight, we got to talking about what a guy looks for in a girl when first meeting her. I proposed that the interests are entirely shallow. It doesn’t matter what you say as long as you adopt a sensual tone of voice and look fit. “But Sarah,” said my friend, “you couldn’t just go up to a guy and say anything! You couldn’t say something totally disgusting and ridiculous and leave him interested!” Whoa there, that sounds like a dare to me.

So I went to a frat party across the street the very next night to strut my stuff. And by “strut my stuff” I mean “make a complete fool of myself.” And the fruits of that labor are a compiled a list of pickup lines and their relative effectiveness.

“Most people would agree that society these days has lost a bit of it’s civility. It’s a shame. You have excellent posture.” This one works, ladies, trust me. Drunk guys totally take it as a compliment, as they should!

“In my spare time, I sculpt asymmetrical ass cheeks. You’d be a perfect model for me.” This one actually worked equally well, but then again I am pretty hot. It just goes to show: it’s not what you say … it’s whether you’re showing cleavage while saying it.

But before you go thinking I’m conceited, I’ll admit that I couldn’t pull off all my lines successfully. The following, for example, yielded a zero percent success rate: “Hi, I’m Sarah. Can I pee in your butt?” Don’t try this one, ladies. I guess guys are on to the fact that women can’t aim.

In the end, everyone’s favorite line was, “Hey babe, you wanna break my other foot in private?” (See, it’s lucky I have a broken foot or this wouldn’t have made any sense.) One guy was like, “Oh, yeah, just stay there. I’ll be right back.” Then he ran off to get God knows what — likely some prop that could be used both for foot-breaking and sexual play. Like a sledgehammer.

I tried a number of other lines as well with varying degrees of success. They ranged from the absurd (“Baby, I burned a techno mix CD that reminds me of your face”) to the disgusting (“My ovaries are about ready to burst — can you relieve the pressure?”) to the patently true (“Don’t you sometimes wish there was a Leatherman with a tampon attachment?”). No added commentary on these, you’ll have to try them out for yourselves.

Now the pickup lines were all well and good, but I’d have to say, the highlight of the night was when my friend became a man. B’s this freshman in my dorm, and he’s sooo cute in that “I’d-rather-play-NetHack-than-have-interpersonal-relations” sort of way. At the end of the night I dared him to dance with a girl. No big deal you’d think. You’d be wrong, wrong like that woman who was arrested recently for super-gluing her boyfriend’s penis to his chest. B was standing around the dance floor with arms folded, shifting nervously from foot to foot, intent on not dancing with anyone and certainly not having a good time.

I saw these three girls on a raised platform shakin’ it like they were backup in a rap video, just getting alls up in each other’s business and being generally hot(t). So I approached them and explained the situation, “Ladies, that’s my friend B over there. He’s a freshman and he has no idea how to dance. I can’t teach him because I have a broken foot … can you girls help out?”

Maybe they were just good sports, or maybe they were drunk off their asses, but they grabbed him and pulled him up on the platform and one of the girls shouted, “Let’s give it to him!” The expression on B’s face was priceless — somewhere between utter shock and an epileptic seizure. Then the girls proceeded to rub themselves all over the poor kid. The best part was when he got so frazzled that his glasses popped off comically.

All in all, a good night. I don’t think I proved anything one way or another about the male psyche. But, uh … have you ever shaved a drunk monkey’s testicles? Because you’re hot.

Got suggestions for Sarah’s next adventure? She dares you to e-mail