This is a further explanation of one of the titles included on my “semi-retired” business card. (Crypto Yield Farmer)

I have another blog dedicated to the seedier parts of my existence, but this particular facet of my personality requires a formal explanation.

Before you read any further, please remember: I attend church regularly. I am a responsible citizen. We pay our taxes, we give to charity, and we even host hockey boys during their junior season. My daughter still lets me babysit my granddaughter, which is the highest character reference I can offer.

I say all of that to soften the blow of my darkest secret: I bought—and still hold—cryptocurrency.

The Oklahoma Learning Curve

If you’re still reading, it’s likely out of pity. This “investment” has caused me more stress than almost anything else in my life. I thought moving to Oklahoma was a challenge, especially learning the local terminology. In the Midwest, you have a “basement” to hide in when the sky turns green. In Oklahoma, we don’t have that luxury; we have “storm shelters,” which are essentially just holes in the ground where you go to think about your life choices while the wind howls.

But even a spring tornado season is less volatile than my portfolio. To put it bluntly: The crypto hurt my feelings.

The Rebound Relationship

This wasn’t even my first digital heartbreak. My foray into crypto was actually a “rebound” relationship. I had been “dating” an algorithmic trading bot—a passive investment strategy that was supposed to make money while I slept. Instead, it just gave me insomnia.

When the bot turned toxic, I thought I’d get smart. I told myself, “I’ll do this crypto thing the right way.” I even tried to hedge my bets, telling myself that as long as one stayed up while the other was down, I’d have something to cheer about.

Then, they both took a synchronized dive into the abyss. That was the moment I realized that semi-passive, “out-there” investment strategies are not my spiritual gift.

The Cost of the Unicorn

With us both being so close to “official” retirement age, I’ve realized the crypto game is better reserved for people who still have something to prove. I’m just a guy who turned a hobby into a sophisticated way to lose money.

My wife, bless her, has been through 35+ years of my “bright ideas.” She knows I bought a couple of unicorns. She also knows the unicorn is life-support, and the veterinary bill isn’t going to be cheap. Yet, she still chooses to focus on my good decisions. Her inability to remember a movie plot for more than a week serves us well here; she looks at the red charts and seems to think, “I remember you mentioning something about that… as long as the financial advisor isn’t screaming, don’t worry about it.”

Choosing the Right Legacy

In the end, this isn’t really a story about blockchain; it’s a story about destiny. I wasn’t meant to be a digital tycoon. I was meant to be the grandpa who majors in family, not finances.

The potential gain of a “moon shot” isn’t worth the stress it subtracts from my Sunday afternoons. I will choose my grandkids over my Coinbase account every single time.

That said, if I ever get my hands on a time machine, I’m going back three years to find my younger self. And right before he pulls money out of our sensible, boring financial advisor’s account to buy a digital coin, I’m going to smack him. Really, really hard.