I created a dropshipping store sometime around 2020 or 2021. If I had to guess, it was probably toward the end of 2020. The timing is fuzzy now.
The path to that store actually started earlier. I think it was in 2019 when I bought a course from James Lee, back when it was called Affiliate Site Empire. I had never built a website before. I had zero familiarity with WordPress, hosting, or any of it.
At first, I struggled just getting a site online. I remember using Bluehost and having constant issues. I couldn’t get things set up properly and eventually asked for a refund. After that, I moved everything to SiteGround. That was my first real win. Their support was good, it felt more intuitive, and for the first time I felt like I could actually build something.
The downside was cost. The introductory pricing was great, but once the renewal hit, it became expensive, especially when nothing was making money yet. Still, that was the environment I learned in.
While I was watching YouTube videos and listening to podcasts about building affiliate sites, shiny object syndrome kicked in. I came across content about high-ticket dropshipping, taught by Joe and Mike Brusca. That grabbed me.
In my head, I wasn’t replacing one project with another. I convinced myself I could do everything at once. Build affiliate sites. Build a dropshipping store. Run multiple projects in parallel. In reality, the dropshipping store started taking priority.
One thing I did differently from their recommendations was the platform. They preferred Shopify. I chose WordPress with WooCommerce. At that point, I had already invested in hosting, themes, and tools, and the expenses were stacking up. I believed I could build something just as good with WooCommerce, and honestly, I think I did.
The store looked good. Even the guys teaching the course told me it looked solid. At one point, during a call about ads, Mike noticed something odd and realized I wasn’t using Shopify at all. That moment was awkward and kind of funny in hindsight.
This wasn’t low-ticket dropshipping. I wasn’t selling cheap items from overseas. These were high-ticket products. Saunas, steam showers, heaters, massage chairs. Items that cost thousands of dollars. The margins were real. One sale could mean a thousand dollars or more.
To make that work, I had to contact suppliers directly. I made calls during breaks at work, sitting in my car at lunch, early mornings, late afternoons depending on time zones. I sent links to the site. I explained what I was building. I eventually had eight or nine suppliers on board.
The store was called Heat Rejuvenate. I don’t really remember how I came up with the name. It was probably some domain tool. It just sounded right at the time.
I did almost everything myself. The site, the pages, most of the product uploads. I hired help through Fiverr for some uploads, but that became expensive quickly. A dollar per product adds up fast when you’re dealing with hundreds of items.
I even set up a separate business phone line that ran through an app on my phone so I could take calls. And people did call. I sold at least one heater. I sold a sauna stove. I had serious inquiries about high-end massage chairs.
One of the things that surprised me was how comfortable I became talking to suppliers and customers. At first it was nerve-racking. Later, it felt normal. One time someone asked if I was in Texas because of my accent. I was calling from Kansas.
Eventually, I ran ads. I ran them for a month or two. The problem was money. Running ads when your back is against the wall is brutal. When the budget ran out, I turned them off.
My fallback plan was SEO. I told myself I would write content, optimize the site, and let it grow organically. That never really happened.
When I turned the ads off, everything went quiet.
Without ads running and without any real SEO in place, there was nothing pushing traffic to the site. You could see it clearly in Google Analytics and Search Console. No movement. No momentum. No signs of life.
Once you see that day after day, it’s hard to stay engaged. I didn’t make a dramatic decision to quit. I just stopped logging in.
That was really it.
I had told a handful of people about the store. Two or three of them would check in from time to time and ask how it was going, whether I had made any more sales. Eventually, I told them I had stopped and put the store on hold.
After that, it just faded out.
I held onto the site and the domain for a while. I kept thinking I might revive it. At one point, I even considered rebuilding the store around a single supplier, leaning heavily into massage chairs and redesigning everything around that. I never followed through.
What sticks with me is the feeling that I stopped too early. There’s a story about being three feet from gold. You quit, sell the land, and someone else digs a little deeper and strikes it rich. Sometimes I feel like that was me.
My goal was never millions. I always said if it made a thousand dollars a month, it would be a success. Something I could duplicate. Something that proved it worked.
It never got there.
I regret stopping. But I also know that everything I learned from that store carried forward. The building. The systems. The confidence. The comfort talking to people. None of that was wasted.
Maybe I’ll build another one someday. Maybe not.
But that was my dropshipping journey.
