I always thought wealth would feel different. Like waking up with a six-pack or suddenly knowing how to dance salsa. But after mining 350 Bitcoin, my life didn't exactly change. I was still the guy with expired ramen packets and socks that didn't match.
But then came Emily.
She was the kind of girl whose perfume you smelled before you saw her—luxury, sweet, intimidating. Her Gucci bag cost more than my entire semester's tuition, and her smile could convince anyone to switch majors.
She wasn't in my league.
Correction: She wasn't even playing the same sport.
We had one class together—Marketing Psychology. I sat in the back like a shadow. She sat front and center, next to a guy who always wore cologne that could murder plants. His name?
Brad.
He had the jawline of a superhero and the personality of wet toast. Always talking about "networking" and "family money" and "startup culture" like he invented breathing.
One day, I overheard Emily say something that triggered me more than any alarm clock ever could:
"Ugh, crypto? Isn't that just internet money for broke nerds?"
I blinked. Was she talking about me? Okay, maybe not me directly. But emotionally? Yes.
I needed to prove her wrong.
That night, fueled by Mountain Dew and passive-aggressive resentment, I crafted a plan.
It was… half genius, half unhinged.
I created a blog called "CryptoCaveman", where I pretended to be a mysterious early adopter giving "insider tips." I wrote articles like:
"Why Bitcoin Is the New Oil—And You're Already Late"
"This Digital Currency Will Change How You Date, Party, and Flex"
I even photoshopped a picture of myself wearing sunglasses on a yacht (stolen from Google) and added the caption:
"Bought this with 200 BTC. Tip: Never trust anyone who still uses PayPal."
The blog went viral. Well, "viral" in 2009 terms—like, 400 shares on Facebook and a Reddit thread where someone asked if I was Elon Musk's cousin.
But that wasn't the win.
The win came when Emily shared one of my posts.
Her caption?
"Okay, low-key this is kinda interesting."
Low-key? Low-key?! That was a high-key miracle.
The next day in class, I mustered the courage to sit one row closer to her. Not next to her—I'm not insane—but close enough to enter her line of sight. That's flirting 101.
Then it happened.
After class, she dropped her pen. I picked it up.
"Hey," I said, handing it to her, trying to sound casual. "You're into crypto stuff now?"
She raised an eyebrow. "A little. That blog, CryptoCaveman? He's kinda funny."
That's me, Emily! I'm the Crypto Caveman! I screamed in my head.
Out loud, I chuckled. "Yeah, I read that too. Total weirdo. Probably lives in his mom's basement."
She laughed. "At least he's honest. Way more interesting than those guys who just flex their Teslas on MySpace."
I swallowed hard. This was it. My opening.
"So... if you're free sometime, maybe we could talk crypto? Over coffee?" I asked, trying not to sweat through my hoodie.
Then came the punch.
Her smile dimmed slightly. "That's sweet. But… I'm kind of seeing someone."
Of course. Brad.
That cologne-spraying spreadsheet of a man.
"Oh," I said, trying to sound cool. "Totally. No worries."
She gave me a soft look, the kind you give to a puppy that's about to walk into traffic.
"I'll see you around," she said, and walked away.
That night, I didn't code. I didn't mine. I didn't even pretend to study.
I just sat there, staring at my laptop screen, watching the Bitcoin ticker slowly tick up from $0.01 to $0.015, and feeling absolutely… ridiculous.
I had future knowledge. A financial time machine. 400 BTC and counting. But I still couldn't get a date.
Somehow, heartbreak in 2009 still felt the same as heartbreak in 2024.
Worse, even.
Because now I knew that one day I'd be rich… and she'd regret everything.
The next morning, I woke up with a new mission.
No more hiding.
If Brad was the shiny object, I'd be the mystery. The underdog. The wildcard she never saw coming.
Crypto Caveman? He was just the beginning.