Never tried. Never even approached a girl. Once in college, a girl approached me and asked if I remembered what time classes reconvened after the exam break. I was reading or something; I looked up, and my brain said, "Dude, a girl's talking to us. What do we do?"
Hopelessly, I searched my data banks for any indication of how to proceed in this situation and came up with an elegant series of "um," "er," and various other unintelligible, monosyllabic grunts.
Eventually, my brain got around to attaching some jumper cables to my synapses, and I blurted out, "12:15." She laughed, thanked me and walked away. All in all, pretty smooth, I'd say.
I wish I could start a conversation with a woman. I wish I could have a thought about a woman without being overcome with tremendous guilt and self-loathing. Today in the gym, I saw this fair-skinned red-head. The architecture of her physique was astonishing: broad shoulders, lean, yet shapely. Strong and beautiful. I wanted to say something to her. What, I don't know. Guess I was figuring on making it up as I go.
I couldn't, though. Brain said, "There's nothing there. It's just sexual attraction. You don't really want to know her." I don't know if that's true. I don't really know what I want. So I believed it.
To make it even more awkward, I was on the leg extension in between sets, and she gets on the leg curl machine right next to me. If you don't know what that is, you lay on your stomach when you use it, and there was a mirror right in front of us... BEHIND her, I should say. I looked at the ceiling and asked, "Are you that BORED, God?"