I began lurking Seddit in the fall of 2012 during my freshman year of university. Nearly every night before bed, I would scroll through the top posts, digesting knowledge, observations, and opinions of those who had the ability to experience what I couldn’t.

At the time I was riddled with anxiety. I was living in a dorm of students, but felt alien to everyone around me. Just leaving and entering the building, I often became tense, paralyzed by the fear of judgment.

Up until that point in my life, I had prided myself on putting others before me. People would often comment on how nice I was, and I loved hearing it. But because I was so overly willing to accommodate others, my neediness quickly became transparent to anyone I became close to.

I believed my niceness set me apart from others, and that acting in such a manner would eventually reward me with women, friends, and success in my career.

It didn’t.

Nobody respected me. I would meet someone at a party, introduce myself, and they would want nothing to do with me. Whenever someone in a group talked, they never looked at me or included me in the conversation. I became bitter, angry and further engrossed in the idea that my niceness made me better than other men, who were often crude, brash, and treated women like shit.

I was dumbfounded around women. Never thought I was good enough, and was always trying to project myself as the idea of what I thought women wanted—something that was in no way a representation of my true self. And although I tried to hide my insecurities whenever possible, they undoubtedly stuck out like a sore thumb. My life was based on the opinions of others.

I sought change. Seddit provided me with reading lists and a framework for interacting with women. I wasn’t old enough to drink (USA), but I incorporated aspects of what I’ve read from the community and from the referred books—Models, No More Mr. Nice Guy, The Game, etc—into my daily life and slowly noticed improvements. Although I was faking confidence, people responded positively, and I think that made me more comfortable; I never believed the mantra ‘fake it ‘til you make it’, but it was ringing true.

I never saw night game as a possibility. I didn’t consider myself conventionally attractive and although I scrutinized over my appearance, I often hated the way I looked. I didn’t know how to dance and the idea of picking up women in a club was probably the scariest thing imaginable.

As a result, I became fascinated with daygame. The idea of approaching a beautiful stranger on the street signified the ultimate form of confidence. I nearly filled my laptop’s memory with motivational quotes and clippings from Seddit’s top posts in an effort to muster the courage to make my first approach.

After a few months, I finally went to a nearby park between classes with the intention of approaching someone I found attractive. Plenty of girls passed but I came up with any excuse not to approach. She’s too fat, ugly, short, tall. Wouldn’t be interested. Probably has a boyfriend. Out of my league. After about thirty minutes of this, I went home. Self-loathing consumed my thoughts and I vowed to not approach anyone until I had read every reputable book on seduction. Then I would have a better chance.

A few months later, still having not approached anyone, I made my way back to the park. It was a warm summer day in the early afternoon. Kids were playing ball and tourists snapped photos. I sat on a bench in the middle of the park where I could see people coming by from both directions. Fifteen minutes passed as I sat idly, paralyzed. I was ready to quit and go home.

Then a beautiful blonde slowly strutted into the park, alone. She was somehow gracefully aware of her beauty without being pompous. A small black leather jacket hugged her body and she wore matching black Aviators. Before she sat down about twenty feet away from my bench, a group of kids in front of me, probably my age, nodded to each other in approval.

I was fed up with myself for waiting this long; not just for the past fifteen minutes, but for the months lurking seddit without making just one approach. I decided I wouldn't respect myself if I didn’t at least go up and try.

Thankfully, I couldn’t even come up with an excuse to not approach her. What was the worst that could happen? I stood up, brushed off my pants, and made my way to her. When I got close enough, she turned her gaze, and we locked eyes.

“Would you like some company?”

She hesitated for a second.

“Uh, sure.”

Game on. I sat down next to her, filled with a combination of adrenaline and fear.

I introduced myself and we exchanged a few words before I noticed her subtle accent. After a few wrong guesses as to her background, she told me she was Norwegian and only in town until the end of the month. I was surprised at how normal this was. It was just a conversation, and she was just a person. This was different than what I had imagined.

She asked what I did for work, and I told her—as I had read on Seddit—that I was an underwear model. She laughed and responded, “me too”. I thought she was just playing along until she pulled out a thin binder and showed me some pictures. Holy shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen on my first approach. She took off her sunglasses, smiled, and asked if this is what I did all day, chatting up random girls in the park. I couldn’t believe this was going well. Nobody would believe this.

Somehow we naturally started talking about our own physical insecurities. I had read about vulnerability in Models and confessed I was insecure about my nose, but I was learning to accept it. I think my willingness to be vulnerable brought out something in her, because soon after that she mentioned she had always been uncomfortable with her small breasts as she felt they made her look like a boy. I looked down at her white blouse and uttered, “They look fine to me.” She laughed and confessed she gotten implants to both help out her self-esteem and to help with her modeling career. The fact that a girl this beautiful could find something to nitpick was surprising.

We talked for another fifteen minutes or so, and I tried to get an insta-date. I asked if she wanted to get coffee, she said she had just had some. Pizza? She just ate about an hour ago. “How about some ice cream from the cart over there?” I grinned. She laughed at my persistence and agreed.

As we walked, I fake-coughed loudly and stuck out my arm. She laughed and grabbed it. I was walking arm-in-arm with a stunning Norwegian underwear model, and felt like the most badass person in the world.

She had to go meet a friend. My phone was dead, so I put my number in her phone and we hugged goodbye.

She never called. Although I beat myself up about what I did wrong, eventually I accepted it. Towards the end of our conversation, I felt a need to impress her, which I think sabotaged any chance I had; my nervousness inevitably broke down my façade of confidence.

But the rush was amazing. I kept approaching in the following weeks, and probably approached about seven more girls. I ended up hooking up with a girl I approached in that same park a week later for about four months.

My life was improving. I became more comfortable with myself. I started dating multiple girls (non-exclusively), and finally felt like I had the option of picking which girls I wanted to spend time with, as opposed to making do with whatever one wanted to spend time with me.

Going to bed now, will follow up in the next few days.