Why Francejetequitte.com? The story of a name that scared everyone

In one sentence

Francejetequitte.com was born in 2016 from a mix of entrepreneurial instinct, a desire for freedom, and a deliberately provocative name — in an era when nobody was creating French-language content about expatriation, and when dropshipping could have made me rich if I’d persevered.

2014 — Dropshipping before the world knew what it was

Before France Je Te Quitte, there was another story. One I should have pursued.

In 2014, a contact in the United States shows me how dropshipping works. At the time, nobody talks about it in France. Nobody. The word doesn’t even exist in the French entrepreneurial vocabulary. Shopify is still a small Canadian tool that Europeans ignore. Oberlo doesn’t exist yet (it launched in 2015). AliExpress is an obscure site where only Americans go to find 40-cent jewellery.

My contact explains the principle: you create an online store, list products you don’t own, and when someone buys, the Chinese supplier ships directly to the customer. You keep the margin. No stock. No warehouse. No risk.

I try it. It works. Not massively, but it works.

And then I drop it.

Why I let go

It wasn’t laziness. It wasn’t lack of results. It was life exploding.

After 12 years together and 2 children, my relationship tears apart. The divorce hits. Proceedings begin. Lawyers, letters, hearings, sleepless nights. My head is elsewhere. Completely elsewhere. Impossible to focus on a business that demands daily attention, product testing, ad campaigns to optimise.

When your personal life collapses, you search for an outlet. Some fall into alcohol. Others into compulsive work. Others into anger.

I fell into travel.

Not postcard travel. Travel as escape. As therapy. As the only way to breathe when everything around you is contracting. Boarding a plane, landing in a country where nobody knows you, where your problems don’t exist, where the noise of the courtroom is replaced by the silence of a temple at sunrise.

That’s what killed dropshipping for me. Not the model. The timing of my life.

The regret

Today, in 2026, dropshipping is known to everyone. It’s denounced on YouTube, mocked on TikTok, regulated by platforms. But in 2014? It was virgin territory. People didn’t even know it existed. Facebook Ads cost next to nothing. Competition was virtually zero.

If I’d persevered, I’d have had a two-year head start on all of French-speaking Europe. As usual, Europe runs 2-3 years behind American trends. Those who held on in 2014-2015 became millionaires in 2017-2018 when the model exploded.

But I didn’t do it. I veered toward blogging. And from that detour, something else was born.

Meeting Olivier Roland — and the blogging epiphany

In 2016, I come back to the subject. I want to retry dropshipping AND blogging at the same time. That’s when I discover Olivier Roland.

Olivier is a French entrepreneur based in London (like me, later). He left school at 18, started his company at 19, and transformed his blog « Des livres pour changer de vie » into a real business. His book Tout le monde n’a pas eu la chance de rater ses études became a bestseller.

We exchange about blogging. His vision is clear: a well-built blog is an asset. It works for you 24/7. It creates an audience. It generates passive income. And above all — it positions you as an expert on a subject.

I think: OK, blogging speaks to me more than dropshipping. It’s more aligned with who I am — someone who tells stories, who shares, who expresses himself. Radio trained me for this. Dropshipping is pure execution. Blogging is creation.

One question remains: a blog about what?

« What can I talk about? »

2016. I’m already living abroad. My path is unusual — cooking, radio, music, expatriation. And I realise something: there’s virtually no French-language content about leaving France. No vlog. No personal blog. No raw testimony from a guy who left and tells you what it’s really like.

There are administrative guides. There are expat forums full of complaints. But nobody saying, in their real voice, on camera or in writing: « Here’s what it feels like to leave. Here’s what I discovered. Here’s what I don’t regret. »

TikTok doesn’t exist yet. Instagram is still a filtered photo app. French-language YouTube is dominated by gamers and comedians. The space is wide open.

And the name imposes itself as an obvious choice:

France, je te quitte. (France, I’m leaving you.)

It’s clear. It’s direct. It’s provocative. It’s a statement. Like a breakup letter addressed to a country.

« You’re crazy » — everyone’s reaction

When I announce the blog’s name, panic breaks out around me.

« The tax authorities will come after you. » — Because apparently, publicly saying you’re leaving France is like waving a red flag at the taxman. People were convinced it would trigger a tax audit.

« Your ex’s lawyer will use it against you. » — The divorce. The children. The blog as evidence that I « wanted to flee. » That I wasn’t a responsible father. That I was putting personal projects before my kids.

« You’ll have legal problems. » — As if blogging about expatriation were illegal.

Everyone was afraid. Except me. Because I knew one thing: this name would provoke reactions. And in the content world, provoking reactions means existing.

What actually happened — the negative

The pessimists weren’t entirely wrong.

The blog was indeed used against me in divorce proceedings. Not directly for the content — but for the principle. The opposing lawyer obtained a territory exit ban for my children. A Frenchman who has « no family in London » doesn’t have the right to take his 4 and 7-year-old children out of France, according to the initial judge.

My father lives in Qatar. But that didn’t count. The court’s logic: no family in the UK = risk of non-return.

I appealed. And I won.

European law (and post-Brexit, British law) is clear: an identity document is sufficient to travel in Europe with your children. The solution found: she keeps the children’s ID cards, I have the passports. The judge ruled. The children travel.

But it took months. Energy. Money. And a level of stress I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

What actually happened — the positive

And then there was the remedy.

You know, when you come out of a devastating separation after 12 years, when the proceedings are eating you alive from the inside, when you no longer quite know who you are or where you’re going — you need something. Something that reminds you the world is bigger than the four walls of a courtroom.

For me, that was travel. And the blog became its journal.

Thailand. Laos. Vietnam. Cambodia. The temples of Angkor Wat at sunrise, when the mist lifts from thousand-year-old stones and you’re alone facing something more ancient than all your problems. Floating markets where women smile at you while handing you a bowl of soup at 6am. Buddhist monks walking barefoot in the silence of dawn. The deserted beaches of Ko Phangan on a Tuesday morning, when it’s just you and the sound of waves.

This wasn’t tourism. This was reconstruction.

Each trip put me back on my feet. Each departure reminded me that life doesn’t boil down to legal documents and courthouse hearings. That my children deserved a father who gets back up, not a father who crumbles.

Memories built and shared with them, with my loved ones, in an era when the world was doing better. When local commerce wasn’t dying. When people travelled without worrying about health forms or vaccine passports. When you could still buy a plane ticket without feeling like you were filling in a tax return.

The blog documented all of it. On video. In text. With the voice that radio had given me. No filter. No staging. Just the truth of a man rebuilding himself one country at a time.

And people followed. Because it was authentic. Because they could sense this wasn’t an influencer posing in front of a sunset to sell a dream. This was someone who needed that sunset to survive. And people recognise that.

Francejetequitte.com was the first French-language blog about « leaving France. » Before digital nomads. Before travel influencers. Before the expatriation coaches everywhere today. Born from the pain of a breakup. Nourished by the beauty of the world. Became a brand.

2026 — The blog has evolved. Like me.

Today, the blog no longer talks about backpacking. It talks about entrepreneurship. Tech. Building. Because my life has changed. And the blog follows life.

But the name stays. France, je te quitte. Because it’s still true. I left. I live in London. I’m building Komby. And the blog has become the logbook of a French entrepreneur who chose to build himself elsewhere.

The name that scared everyone in 2016 has become a brand. An identity. A legacy.

And honestly? I’ve never had a problem with the tax authorities.

What I learned from this adventure

• Timing matters more than talent. I should have persevered with dropshipping in 2014. The 2-3 year head start on the market was priceless.
• A provocative name works. People told me I was crazy. But that name — they all remember it.
• Authentic content always beats corporate content. No expat insurance website can tell what I’ve lived. That’s my strength.
• Legal problems get resolved. The blog was used against me — and I won. Other people’s fear should never dictate your decisions.
• When you create something first, you keep a head start. Even 10 years later, the domain authority, the history, the lived experience — it all counts.

Francejetequitte.com was created in 2016. It’s the first French-language blog about « leaving France. » Today, it documents Alexandre Auger’s journey — from radio to SaaS, from Bangkok to London, from expatriation to tech entrepreneurship.

Last updated: June 2026.