My dad called me a disgrace for not being like my golden brother. Five years later, they’re pretending they’re proud of me and begging to reconcile. Hey everyone, before we jump into today’s video, I need your help.
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Sup, Reddit. So, I, thirty-five male, own this custom furniture business in Denver. Now, sounds like I’ve got my life together, right?
Well, my family had literally no freaking clue until a few months ago. This is going to be a long one, so buckle up. Growing up in our middle-class suburb, our household operated on one unwritten rule.
My brother, Larry, thirty-eight, male, could do no wrong, and I could do no right. Larry was three years older, had perfect grades, was captain of every sports team, and was treated like God’s gift to humanity. Meanwhile, I was the family disappointment, breathing valuable oxygen that could have gone to Larry.
I once overheard my dad on the phone with some neighbor talking about me like I was a mailroom intern. “Yeah, Alex works at Boeing. He’s doing something entry-level with wings or rivets or whatever.”
I was designing structural systems for defense aircraft.
But sure. Rivets or whatever. And the comparison started early as hell.
When I was six, I built this fort that my dad called structurally unsound before straight-up kicking it apart to show me how it was done. That same week, Larry stacked some Legos, and my parents acted like he designed the freaking Space Needle. Not even exaggerating.
My eighth birthday was when I first realized where I stood in the family hierarchy. Larry had a baseball game that day, so my parents rescheduled my birthday party without telling me. I found out when I came home excited for cake and presents, only to discover an empty house because everyone was at Larry’s game.
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