The Secret Life of Studs

Part 2: The Interview

There are 10 men and 7 women waiting in the metal folding chairs that line the walls of the bare conference room just down the hallway from the Studs production offices on Fox Television's Hollywood lot. Most are here because they called in, a few because friends dared them, a few because Olde snared them.

By the time he and producer Michael Canter walk in, all have filled out forms that ask, among other things, what they're looking for in a mate, and what their hobbies, interests, and three worst qualities are. They've also been asked to circle their characteristics in three categories: Spiritual & Mental (including Charm, Gallantry, Good Talker), Financial (Inheritance, Jewelry, Generosity), and Physical (My Walk, How I Kiss, Penis).

Olde looks over the forms and begins asking each applicant to stand in the middle of the room. "Alice," he says, addressing a woman with Frida Kahlo eyebrows and scuffed black Doc Martens boots, "it says here that you're artistic, creative, and destructive. What does that mean?

"Well, I like to break things," Alice says, staring just a tad too intently. "Mostly baby dolls."

Canter quickly scribbles the word spooky on his legal pad. Alice, it appears, won't be getting called back.

Twice a day, five days a week, herds of Studs hopefuls gather in this room, willing to be cross-examined and asked embarrassing questions in front of strangers, just for the chance of doing it again on national tv. If the applicants survive this round (and today only four will), they come back for a second grilling, when they will be placed in front of a video camera and questioned by a half-dozen producers and talent coordinators, including talent executive Jacqui Pitman, the woman most responsible for deciding who gets hooked up with whom. "This isn't a dating service, it's a television show," she reminds all those who survive the final round and will become one of the 120 people who are chosen to go on the air each month.

Part 3: The Show

Two hours before taping, Claudia Nieto, Kimberly Sheriff, and Kathleen Laughlin walk onto the carpeted Studs set for the first time. They should smile, the producer tells them, speak up, and, if at all possible, try to cross their legs in the same direction — left over right — to achieve maximum gam visibility for the camera.

Claudia, a 23-year-old cocktail waitress, has been waiting two months for this. Her date with Dan Trotter, a 26-year-old salesman, had been like a dream: dancing, heartfelt conversation, long meaningful moonlight kisses on his oceanside rooftop deck.

She liked the other Stud, a salesman and former Chippendales dancer named Sean Ireland, but with Dan there was something special — the "schmecken" that Mark DeCarlo is always talking about on the show. At the end of the half hour, when the contestants reveal whom they'd most like to go out with again, Claudia is going to pick Dan. And she's sure, even though they haven't spoken since the date, that he will choose her, too.

Dan, meanwhile, is just down the backstage corridor in a dressing room with the other Studs. They are all being briefed, one last time, about the questions they will be asked on camera, such as, "What's most likely to attract you to a woman?" Dan already has an answer for that one. "Hair," he says. "Long, ratty hair."

There are lots of briefings when you're a Studs contestant. Although AIDS isn't specifically mentioned, all participants must sign a waiver stipulating that the show is "not responsible for any physical harm" caused by the encounters. Before the dates, everyone gets a lengthy explanation of the rules: The show will reimburse each Stud up to $50 per date. The dates, which should all take place within a week of one another, must last at least three hours each and can't revolve around movies, concerts, or other passive spectator events. Contestants are not allowed to bring along friends or go to places where they're likely to run into them. Beyond that, they're pretty much on their own. Some people have picnics, some ride around in limos, and one guy's idea of a great date was having a woman accompany him while he had a car stereo installed.

Whatever happens, within days each contestant spends an hour or more on the phone with a Studs segment producer, being pressed for intimate details.

"They want to know everything," Claudia says, "like, how did I feel when I first saw Dan and how did his kisses feel?" It's during these conversations that the women supposedly utter all the outrageous quotes that later make the audience go into a whooping frenzy, stuff like "My eyes zeroed in on his butt like two heat-seeking missiles." What Claudia actually said was that Sean had shown up for their date wearing tight spandex shorts and, yes, she'd noticed.

"The quotes," producer Canter admits, "are slightly massaged."

Claudia spends most of the show looking straight into Dan Trotter's eyes. He looks back and smiles knowingly. Schmecken. Not that it all goes smoothly. Claudia looks a little hurt when she hears that Kathleen had been on the rooftop deck too, with hints that it might have been an overnight stay. And, hmmm, Dan was sucking on Kimberly's toe? But she had a splinter. That's certainly understandable.

Claudia tugs at her tight black shorts, crosses her legs the right way. Dan will pick her. She knows it. Right now, he is saying that if he wins the big date (the show gives a $500 voucher to winning couples), he wants to go to Ensenada and ride horses on the beach. Claudia can hardly wait.

"Well, I didn't pick Kimberly, even though she's a doll," Dan is saying. And then he drops the bomb. "And I didn't pick Claudia. I just didn't think I was the right type of guy for her."

He picks, instead, Kathleen, the one with the long, ratty hair. Claudia's face is frozen, unable to force a smile, not even when Kathleen reveals that her choice for a second date is "Neither."

The theme music kicks in, Mark DeCarlo stands up and in the mob scene that ensues, Dan pulls Claudia close. He was going to pick her, he says, but found out that Sean was going to choose her too, and, hey, he didn't think both guys should pick the same girl. "I'm an idiot," he says. "I can't believe I did that."

He is still explaining as they go down the back hallway together, past the dressing rooms and out toward the parking lot where Jeff Olde has parked his red Nissan Pulsar. But it won't be there for long. In a few hours, the sun will set, the nightclubs will fill, and the search will begin again.