Doesn't it feel like everyone is watching you?
You're already nervous about approaching a woman you're attracted to.
Then you notice someone sitting ten feet away.
Now you've got a second problem.
What if I get rejected in front of him?
Suddenly you're not just worried about what she is going to think.
You're worried about what everyone around you is going to think.
I used to struggle with this badly.
When I first started approaching women, the idea of someone else watching made an already difficult thing feel impossible.
I'd see a woman I wanted to talk to, notice someone nearby, and think:
Fuck, they're going to see me.
And sometimes that was enough to make me walk away.
I lost count of how many opportunities I let disappear because I was more afraid of being judged by some random stranger than I was afraid of never seeing the woman again.
And the funny thing is...
I had no idea what these people were actually thinking.
I was just making it up.
I was imagining some invisible audience sitting there, waiting to watch me embarrass myself.
But here's the thing I've learned:
Not all judgment is bad.
Sometimes, the person watching you might actually be rooting for you.
I found that out in a mall.
I saw this woman who was absolutely stunning.
I remember thinking she was an 8, maybe even a 9.
My exact thought was basically:
She's way too pretty not to talk to.
She was sitting in one of the seating areas in the food court, working on her computer.
About two tables away — probably seven feet from her — there was a guy sitting at his own computer.
He was probably around 35.
Well dressed. Sharp suit and tie.
And, importantly, he wasn't wearing headphones.
The mall was pretty quiet that day.
There was no question in my mind:
He was going to hear me.
Every word.
At this point, I'd already done thousands of approaches.
I wasn't worried about what this guy thought of me.
Honestly, I didn't really give a shit.
I was completely comfortable being seen approaching a woman. If someone wanted to judge me for it, that was their problem.
But I did notice him.
And I remember thinking:
Well, looks like I've got an audience for this one.
That's it.
There wasn't some big internal battle.
I wasn't standing there thinking about whether I had the courage to approach.
I had already made that decision.
The only thing that crossed my mind was that this guy was sitting about seven feet away, wasn't wearing headphones, and was almost certainly going to hear the entire conversation.
And my thought was basically:
I'd rather talk to this girl with an audience than let the opportunity slip away.
So...
Fuck it. Guess I'm going to have an eavesdropper on this one.
And I walked over.
I said something to her.
We ended up talking for somewhere between 45 seconds and a few minutes.
I honestly don't remember exactly what we talked about.
I don't remember whether I got her number.
I don't even remember exactly how the interaction ended. I just remember she started getting ready to leave, packed up her stuff, and eventually walked away.
And then I stood there for a second.
But I knew one thing.
That guy had heard everything.
So I looked over at him.
And he was already looking directly at me.
For a split second, I had no idea what was coming.
Then he gave me a little smirk and said:
"That was very nice, dude. Very nice."
I laughed.
I said something along the lines of:
"She was way too hot to let the opportunity pass."
He laughed too.
And that was it.
Two complete strangers had a ten-second conversation about the interaction.
Then I went on with my day.
I still think about that interaction.
Not because I got the girl. I don't even remember if I got her number.
I remember it because of what it taught me about the person sitting seven feet away.
He wasn't waiting for me to fail.
He was enjoying watching someone shoot his shot.
And that completely changed the way I thought about spectators.
Because when you're terrified of approaching a woman, it's easy to imagine everyone around you as part of the threat.
You imagine the guy sitting nearby.
You imagine the group of friends at the next table.
You imagine people noticing you walk over.
And your brain fills in the blanks:
They're going to think I'm weird.
They're going to laugh if she rejects me.
Everyone is going to see me embarrass myself.
But you don't actually know any of that.
You're writing a story about people whose thoughts you can't possibly know.
And here's the part I wish I'd understood when I was starting:
Some of those people might actually be rooting for you.
They might see you walk over and think:
"Good for this guy."
They might be a nervous wreck themselves and find you inspiring!
They might not care at all.
And sure, maybe someone will judge you.
Maybe someone will think you're weird.
Maybe someone will laugh.
Who cares?
You don't need unanimous approval from the food court.
You just need to be willing to take your shot.
And this is where the fear of being watched can become especially destructive.
If you're already struggling to approach, having other people around can give your brain one more perfectly reasonable-sounding excuse to change it from difficult to impossible.
Not now.
Too many people around.
I'll do it when she's somewhere quieter.
I'll catch her another time.
And then she walks away.
You tell yourself you'll do it next time.
But there might not be a next time, at least not in this lifetime.
And meanwhile, the stranger you were so worried about probably went right back to whatever he was doing.
You gave someone you've never met the power to make a decision about your own life.
And he didn't even ask for it.
So I'm not going to tell you that nobody is watching.
Sometimes they are.
I'm not going to tell you nobody will ever judge you.
Some people probably will.
And I'm definitely not going to tell you that you should magically stop caring what anyone thinks.
That's not realistic.
Instead, remember what I learned in that mall:
The person watching you might not be your enemy.
They might be rooting for you!
They might be thinking:
"That guy has some balls."
And even if they're not?
Who cares?
Because you're not approaching her for the approval of the guy sitting seven feet away.
You're approaching because you wanted to talk to her.
That's the only decision that matters.
So the next time you see a woman you want to approach and notice other people around, don't automatically assume you've got an audience waiting for you to fuck up.
You might.
But you might also have an audience that's quietly rooting for you.
You don't know.
And you don't need to know.
Walk over.
Say hello.
Take your shot.
Let them watch.
And if you're reading this thinking:
"That's easy for you to say. You make it sound so simple."
I get it.
It wasn't simple for me either.
There was a time when I could stand twenty feet away from a woman I wanted to talk to and I would never have gone up to her.
I spent years knowing exactly what I wanted to do and being completely unable to make myself do it.
Eventually, I broke through that.
Not overnight. Not easily. Not without serious pain along the way.
And definitely not because I suddenly stopped feeling nervous.
It happened through all sorts of uncomfortable experiences, awkward conversations, rejections, small wins, and lessons I couldn't have learned by sitting at home watching videos.
I wrote the whole story down.
If you're struggling with this right now, you can read it for free.