I recently learned there is now an official term for men like my friend Jay.
They're called Passport Bros.
Apparently there is an entire movement built around Western men who travel or relocate overseas in search of better dating prospects, more traditional values, lower costs of living, and lifestyles they believe are increasingly difficult to find in the United States.
The movement has generated plenty of criticism. Some see it as adventurous. Others see it as exploitative. Some argue it is a rejection of modern dating culture. Others view it as an attempt to find relationships where men hold more power.
Leave it to the internet to turn a complicated human story into a label.
The truth is, Jay became a Passport Bro long before anyone invented the term.
Actually, that's not true either.
Jay wasn't chasing women.
Jay was chasing a life.
I've known him for years. We were neighbors in Santa Barbara from roughly 2008 to 2017. Even after life took us in different directions, we stayed close. He is my brother from another mother.
To understand how Jay ended up buying a home in Japan, you have to understand where he started.
Like many Gen-X kids, Jay learned early that financial security wasn't something he could count on.
His parents loved him, but life happened.
His parents split up. His father was a Renaissance man, a ladies' man, and a serial reinventor. Careers came and went. Girlfriends came and went. New chapters were always beginning.
His mother had another child and eventually absorbed two stepsons into the family. Her attention was divided among the realities of raising a blended family.
Nobody was trying to fail Jay.
Nobody was withholding support.
Life was simply moving in ten different directions at once.
Gen-X kids know exactly what I'm talking about.
We were the latchkey generation.
We came home to empty houses.
We figured things out ourselves.
We learned how to solve problems because there was often nobody standing over our shoulder telling us what to do.
Some people became bitter.
Others became resourceful.
Jay became resourceful.
Instead of waiting for life to happen, he enlisted in the Marines.
That decision changed everything.
The military gave him structure, discipline, and his first real opportunity to see the world beyond his own backyard. His first overseas experience was Japan.
Years later, around age twenty-six, he found himself in Indonesia and Thailand.
What he saw surprised him.
He encountered women who seemed genuinely interested in men like him. There was warmth. Curiosity. Appreciation. Gratitude. Whether people agree with his observations or not, those were his experiences.
And those experiences stayed with him.
Back home, Jay continued building a life.
He wasn't drifting through adulthood.
He was investing in himself.
He went to school. He learned a trade. He built a career in water treatment and eventually became a highly certified technician working at one of the most advanced treatment facilities in Northern California.
Most people never think about water.
Jay became one of the people responsible for making sure it works.
He built expertise.
He built stability.
He built a future.
But like many single Gen-X men, he was also looking for companionship.
When he moved to Northern California, he was excited. Given his long-standing appreciation for Asian culture and Asian women, he assumed there would be opportunities to meet people with similar interests.
Instead, he found himself surprisingly lonely.
The way he described it, he might as well have been an albino Godzilla walking through town.
He wasn't broke.
He wasn't unattractive.
He wasn't lacking confidence.
He had a good career, energy, interests, and a genuinely good heart.
Yet he struggled to connect.
Frankly, I didn't believe him.
I thought he was exaggerating.
At one point I even contacted a former colleague in the area hoping she would prove him wrong.
Instead, she agreed with him.
Her advice?
Go to country music concerts.
Country music concerts.
I nearly fell out of my chair.
Nothing against country music, but if your entire romantic future depends on Luke Bryan tickets, something feels off.
Around that same time, Jay was navigating online dating while America was entering what I jokingly call the "Must Love Dogs Era."
COVID changed people.
Pets became companions.
Dogs became family members.
Entire identities seemed built around fur babies.
Then one day Jay read an article discussing a trend that fascinated him.
Here is the article American Women are giving up on Marriage
According to Wall Street Journal reports, projections suggest 45% to 50% of women aged 25 to 44 will be single by 2030–2035. This shift is largely driven by women prioritizing autonomy, financial independence, and higher standards in partners over traditional marriage.
Most readers would have moved on. Jay had an epiphany.
If women were turning away from marriage and turning to pets he saw the opportunity.
Instead of arguing about the trend, he invested in it.
He bought stock in Chewy (NYSE: CHWY).
His logic was simple.
If millions of Americans were spending more money on pets, somebody was going to make money.
It reminded him of the old Gold Rush lesson.
During a gold rush, don't just dig for gold.
Sell the shovels. Or in GenX Jay's case - Invest in the shovels.
The investment doubled.
Eventually those gains helped him purchase a home in Japan.
Think about that for a moment.
A Gen-X latchkey kid who enlisted in the Marines, learned a trade, invested in a pet company because he noticed a cultural trend, and used the proceeds to help buy a home halfway around the world.
That's not running away.
That's adapting.
Today Jay is fixing up that home in Japan.
He appreciates the culture.
He appreciates the cleanliness.
He appreciates the sense of order.
He appreciates the slower pace.
Most of all, he appreciates the feeling of peace.
That doesn't mean he hates America.
Quite the opposite.
My friend is a proud American.
He raised his hand and volunteered to serve this country.
He simply reached a point where he stopped waiting for society to become what he wanted and started building the life he wanted instead.
Ironically, he also found companionship here at home in NoCal.
Her name is Penny.
We call her Lucky Penny.
She has a career, friends, family, and her own life. She and Jay enjoy cooking together, eating well, staying active, traveling, and building a relationship based on mutual respect.
Good for them.
In the end, maybe the Passport Bro conversation misses the point entirely.
Maybe the real story isn't about where Jay went.
Maybe it's about what Gen X learned when nobody was watching.
We learned to adapt.
We learned to invest in ourselves.
We learned that nobody was coming.
And we learned that if we wanted a different future, we had to build it ourselves.
As Gen X enters the second half of life, perhaps the better question isn't whether Jay became a Passport Bro.
The better question is:
What's your plan?
Because peace of mind is still the best kind of peace.
