This is a multiple series article, so if you're just popping in here, don't forget to read the other parts.
- Part 1: You gotta know who I am first
- Part 2: How many women I’ve been with
- Part 3: I was a loser with acne
- Part 4: I had no game
- Part 5: Dating stories while I battled acne
- Part 6: Wait … I had acne? I never had acne!
- Part 7: Better dating stories
- Part 8: What my life is like today
- Part 9: Do girls care about acne? (... and other things I've learned)
PART 4: I HAD NO GAME
Eventually I would get so fed up with having acne that I would discover how to clear my skin naturally through food and then date many beautiful women.
But before that, I would first have to learn a something about myself ...
I didn't know women, I didn't know how to attract women, I basically had no game.
Sure, I was a good guy, I had smarts, I had a sense of humor, and I was sweet but MAN ... did I have weird quirks too.
Years later, after dating more women than most men need to and getting married, I would create a program of everything I've learned in dating beautiful women out of your league, dating multiple women every week, inner game, outer game, style, relationships, breakups, and more called "Charisma Engineering."
But before all this, MAN, did it get awkward at times ... heck, I should say did "I" get awkward at times.
And it wasn't like I was some weird creeper that stalked women and masturbated from locks of their hair either. No, I wasn't anything like that.
But looking back now, I did weird quite a few women out with my insecurity and my neediness.
I just wasn't comfortable in my own skin, I was in my head too much, and I wasn't ... well ... I wasn't attractive.
I wasn't born naturally alpha either.
It's not like I was 6'2", muscular, with a chiseled jaw, deep voice and blue eyes. If I was born with those features, I probably would have never needed to learn anything about having game.
I would've probably been able to waltz right through most of my life and just had women fall into my lap most of the time.
No, I was average height, average build, had glasses, tons of acne, self conscious, and carried the geeky stigma of an asexual Asian boy.
Genetics weren't exactly working in my favorite here.
I knew pretty early on that I would have to rely on my smarts and personality rather than looks.
But boyyy ... did it take some time to get there. It took years and years of practice ... failing and getting rejected over and over again.
Sometimes there would be years before I would put myself out there again for yet another rejection. And of course, I would always blame it on my acne.
I would always think, "She probably thinks I'm disgusting." I'd be staring at myself in the bathroom, just six inches away from the mirror looking at the giant pores in my face.
I'd examine each giant pore and then after a few minutes, get fed up and try to squeeze out each black and white head only to create a bigger red swollen mess on my face.
With that, I'd then stand back and study my enlarged, swollen nose that I just tried to squeeze the living daylights out of.
"I'm ugly. Of course these women aren't attracted to me," I would tell myself.
I did this for years.
And if you've suffered from acne, you might have done something like this too.
Once in a while, I would muster up the courage to go talk to a pretty girl who was out of my league at the time.
Let me tell you about this one girl in college that I had a crush on.
THE STORY OF BEING CALLED THE C*@$@ WORD
She was Asian, athletic, tan, and pretty. I heard she had been adopted by a Caucasian family so she only dated white guys, so I knew the chances were slim she would be interested in me. However, she did have some Asian friends so I thought maybe I'd take a chance.
It went terribly.
In fact, it went SO BAD that it actually shook up my confidence (or whatever little "confidence" I had) that I shied away from women for several years.
Here's what happened ...
It was freshman year of college. It was a weekend afternoon and I was at the University administration building with a check paying for my tuition.
The place was virtually empty and I recognized her working behind the help desk counter that was in the center of this huge open building. She seemed preoccupied reading a book or something and didn't really notice me looking at her.
If you're wondering what I looked like, I was wearing my typical sandals, sweats, and a t-shirt. My hair was spiked and I had my glasses on. It was the typical freshman, engineering, weekend lounge around attire. Definitely nothing impressive.
I had seen her a few times at club events, but never really mustered up the courage to talk to her. And normally, I would've just went about my business and then kicked myself later for not having tried to talk to her but this time ... THIS TIME ... it was going to be different.
Plus, no one was around in case I messed up so there wasn't too much pressure about feeling stupid.
Boyyy ... was I wrong.
So what could I possibly have done that went this bad, you're asking?
The funny thing is ... nothing.
Even when I look back today, I really didn't do anything colossally terrible because all I did was go up and ask her a few questions about stupid stuff.
"Hi, how's it going?"
"So you work here huh?"
"It's pretty quiet today, isn't it?"
That's pretty much it!
But the entire time, I was so nervous that I started sweating heavily. I'd ask a question and she'd give me a one word answer, then I'd panic think, "QUICK! Ask another question to keep the conversation flowing! Otherwise, it'll get awkward ..."
Obviously, the conversation didn't flow well at all. It was clunky, weird, and there was no chemistry. A few minutes later, I politely excused myself and tucked my tail away in defeat.
I felt bad but in a few hours, I moved on. Days passed, weeks passed, months passed. I forgot about the whole thing.
Up until a few months later I bumped into a friend at his birthday party and somehow he knew about me talking to this girl ... and so did a bunch of other girls.
He told me they called me a "creeper."
I was crushed.
Why was I a creeper? All I did was ask her a few questions because I wanted to try to talk to her. It's not like I tried to grab her ass or do weird shit like spy on her through her bedroom window or something like that.
I just tried to talk to her and now I've been branded by her and all her friends as a CREEPER.
I was hurt and I was sad. And it was all because of the "breakouts and the acne on my face," I thought.
I hated my acne. I can't wait to get clear so I can be normal. I just want to be normal. I just want have clear skin so I can move on with my life so I can act normal with people and not be thought of as ugly.
Turns out, it didn't really matter what I said.
It was how I said it.
Hell, it was who said it.
The problem was me.
It was only after I would clear my acne that I could really allow myself to progress emotionally. Let me tell you another story about hitting on women with acne ...