The Story of Millennial Bachelor: Far too humble beginnings (Part 1)

This took a lot for me to write but due to my uncertain future, I had to. Given how much some of my posts have been shared, I have helped some folks but I have also made a lot of enemies due to my controversial opinions. For years, I hid my own story because of fear of things like doxxing. Maybe I write an e-book or maybe I make it a private post but all I could say was no more my friends. For all I know, I regret sharing this with my readers but with my future so uncertain and my health not doing too well, I wanted to share my life story.

Part 1: Far too humble beginnings.

I was born into poverty in a third world country, this is where the story begins. At the time of my birth, my parents were going through a divorce as well. My mom was under a lot of stress when having me because of my dad, who I will talk more about later on in this story. The childhood years, I don’t recall them too well at all but I do know that my mom went above and beyond to provide for me on her own.

Sometimes I wonder why I never truly became fully Red Pilled or fall too hard into the Men’s Right stuff even when it was at its peak. Looking back at it, I was raised by a very strong and resilient woman. I saw my mom travel far distances for work and still make it back in time to put food on the table for me. For a while in my life, she is all I had to take care of me in my youth. My father was usually out in town gossiping or just fucking around, he never had much of a work ethic and always tried to cut corners.

My childhood would fly by but due to the fact that country I spent it in was quite misogynist, my lazy and mostly incompetent father got an opportunity. Somehow, he managed to get a job in France and when I was about seven or so, I went to Paris. From a third world country to France, there I was. Just the scene looked so different in France back in the 90s, it was far more different than it is these days.

In some ways, I guess I envy the people who were born in the 70s and 80s. Maybe it is nostalgia or something getting the better of me here but times were quite different then for sure. Europe was cleaner and a lot safer back then compared to what you see now. Hell, I even watch retro porn that was shot back then and it seemed far more intense and higher quality than the airbrushed garbage we have now. Yeah, I do this when I tell stories, I ramble and occasionally get away from points.

When I think back to my childhood in France, I become overwhelmed with nostalgia. Spending a bit of your childhood in Paris is something worth bragging about and for me, it sure was. The streets were so clean and it is one of the moments of my childhood I look back on with rose-tinted glasses. Given how much my family would move around after that, I almost wonder what happened to my elementary school classmates. As I look back on my past, I truly consider my childhood years in Paris to be heaven. The French get a bad reputation but I only witnessed kindness and class in my time as a kid.

I had a couple of good friends in my time in France, one was this Colombian kid (funny how that works even now huh, right Pablo?) and another was this Pakistani kid. The two kids would go on to be good friends of mines in my school days but when you think back to childhood, you don’t always remember much. You do not remember the details as much as you remember the big picture itself. I remember the massive playground and the nuns who ran the school but not every classmate.

One thing that sticks with me is how they did lunch for kids in Paris. You see, in Paris you could actually go back home for lunch instead having to stay for school. I remember walking to school with my mom every morning and getting a baguette I never finished all the way, having her become constantly pissed at me for wasting food. When I look back at it, Paris was the twilight of my life’s happiness. I remember almost always being happy there, it was just so romantic and scenic as a city in the 90s, almost unreal in a way.

Sadly, my time in Paris would come to an end because my dad’s boss caught on to his ways. Family drama and my Dad’s incompetence at work caused a weird rift of events. However, I guess my dad was a step ahead and somehow managed to get to the US. In the US, we would arrive in the city of Nashville because of an opportunity my dad managed to talk himself into.

From baguettes to fiery Fried Chicken I guess. However, Nashville held a special place in my heart back then too. I lived there in the early 2000s and it was also the city where my little brother would be born, lucky! Even when I think back to Nashville, I just remember so many good things. I barely knew English but my elementary school friends were cool people. I guess I naturally ended up fitting in a lot when I was that young.

One of my wildest memories was when the teacher left the class and a big ruckus broke out. We all started to throw things around and go full barbarian. All of this in a class about thirty kids. I laugh when I think back to this one instance where this really ghetto black kid and Chinese immigrant kid got into it. The Chinese kid said something loud in Chinese and put a headband on while randomly throwing Kung Fu kicks before having a table leg hit his shin. Poor kid went from bold Bruce Lee to crying in a heartbeat while the black kids laughed hysterically.

So they send the school’s police officer to the actual class itself since it got out of hand. No one got hurt but looking back at it, I kind of laugh. A cop to handle a bunch of kids that aren’t even 10 years old? Man! I remember a handful of friends from my time in Nashville but two stick with me in particular. One was this Korean kid and the other was this black kid. I guess we hung out but my memories are all on the fun of recess and fun on the playground. Fun playing dodgeball and baseball with my classmates back then.

However, I remember this one very sweet neighbor we had. The neighbor was this lovely Indian woman with a youthful appearance. I guess you could say she could easily pass for Brazilian or Latina. This woman played a role in raising me when my parents were not around and she was quite lovely. She had such a cheerleader vibe and was such a good and positive person. I also remember the circumstances of my childhood.

My parents were not rich by any stretch of the imagination and drove a very beat up car. I am not sure what my dad did but the man was always so paranoid or seemed like he was on the run from something. However, I guess the circumstances were so good for me as a kid that I never got impacted much by it. Neighbors, community, and my good time at elementary school kind of made all of that go away.

However, due to my dad’s antics yet again, Nashville did not work out and we had to go back home to the third world dump I grew up in. Come to think of it, in my return I would get jaundice for some reason, that sticks with me because of some of my health complications I am running into right now. I think it was the first time in my life I faced exclusion but not too much of it. However, that stay would be short lived as my dad found an opportunity in America yet again. That opportunity would be in a town called Augusta, Georgia.

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