Wes Glouchkov: The No-Bullshit “Older Brother” Guiding a New Generation of Wellness

“The Older Brother Effect” - Wes Glouchkov is the fitness coach who keeps it simple (meat, cottage cheese, training, mindset), refuses easy brand money, and wants to build a community that raises young men with character. He’s half Texas, half Bulgaria, and 100% authentic. The humor and reels are the hook; the message is deeper: health is the doorway to humanity. From Texas grit and Bulgarian roots to Bali resets, Versace shows, and online coaching, Wes is building strength that goes beyond the gym.

It starts like most good Roe conversations do, easy, unforced, a little sun-warmed. We’re in Barcelona; Wes is dialing in from Bali at the time of the conversation. He laughs about packing four outfits in Vietnam and collecting rice hats “to wear in Texas,” and then, almost mid-stride, he lands on the thing that matters to him most: doing life clean, simple, and honestly. “I’ve always been a coach,” Wes says. “Personal training came first. Content was an accident, one video popped, then another. Practicing what I preach was already part of my life, so the camera just followed.”

Roots: Texas × Bulgaria - two homes, one compass

Wes grew up straddling two worlds: Texas, with its Southern hospitality and Friday-night country songs, and Bulgaria, with grandparents, language, and the grounded pragmatism of Eastern Europe.

“My dad’s Bulgarian, 100%, and my mom is super Southern. Two families, two cultures,” Wes says. “Growing up, that split was hard to explain in Texas.”

Summers in Bulgaria were rituals, cousins, grandparents, real home-cooked food, and a different rhythm of life. Later, when his dad returned to the U.S. after having to leave for a while, the bi-continental thread stayed intact. At mom’s, there were line-dancing parties and old country staples (his great-uncle is the late country star Glen Campbell); with dad’s side, there was Eastern European directness, thrift, and family above everything.

“Now I feel more Texan day-to-day,” he admits, “but I hold tight to my Eastern European roots.”

That mixed identity shows up in his voice and values: the Texan warmth and easy humor; the Bulgarian no-nonsense ethic. He’s polite but precise, friendly but firm about what matters. It’s why he resists shortcuts, declines easy brand cash, and keeps his coaching simple: whole foods, hard work, integrity. He jokes about flashing an EU passport in Europe and flying back to Texas with rice hats from Vietnam, but underneath the humor is a clear center. Two cultures didn’t make him conflicted; they made him anchored.

The Accidental Creator - purpose born from play

Wes didn’t set out to become a content creator. There was no long-term strategy, no “growth roadmap,” no 90-day content plan. It began the way many authentic online careers do: as a joke.

“It started with a dumb spin-and-clap trend,” he laughs. “Then garage workout videos. I was just showing the basics: eat, train, be consistent.”

There’s something endearing about the way he tells this story - no glamor, no ego, no algorithmic calculations. Just Wes in a garage, sweaty, lifting weights, recording on a phone, sharing what he actually does. What he calls “dumb” was, in reality, the entry point to a voice people didn’t know they needed: straightforward, grounded, zero fluff.

“People complicate things, they think they need scoops and stacks,” he says. “You don’t. You need food and hard work.”

That philosophy is baked into everything he posts. Fitness is full of noise: shiny supplements, extreme protocols, pseudo-science packaged as shortcuts. Wes cuts through it with the kind of clarity that feels like a friend handing you the truth, not a guru trying to sell a miracle cure.

Today, his quick-hit reels take complex concepts and strip them down to real-life logic. “Complicated stuff in 60 seconds, but real. That’s how people learn.” No over-editing. No scientific jargon. Just simple, digestible explanations from someone who actually practices what he preaches. His consistency, in his lifestyle and message, is what makes viewers trust him. He’s not performing; he’s documenting. And ironically, this unplanned, unpolished start is exactly what turned him into a creator people take seriously.

The Code: natural, simple, real

If Wes had a manifesto, it would be three words: natural, simple, real. He treats his body and his brand with that same uncompromising clarity.

He doesn’t chase shortcuts, hacks, or shiny supplements. His philosophy is stripped down to the essentials.

“I don’t take powders. I’d rather eat steak and cottage cheese,” he says. “Protein powder is fine; it just doesn’t make me feel good. I keep it whole-foods.”

In an industry saturated with colorful tubs and affiliate links, this stance is borderline rebellious. Most fitness creators cradle a shaker bottle in every frame. Wes shows up eating actual food, meat, dairy, whole ingredients, never pretending a scoop of something sugary is the key to transformation. It’s refreshing to hear someone say, “Work hard and eat real food,” without turning it into a sales pitch.

The only exception? Red Bull. And not for the reason you think. “I love the brand and the people. It’s about the experience, not a paycheck.” Where others see a sponsorship opportunity, he sees culture, adventure, good energy, community. It’s the one brand he stands behind because it aligns with who he is, not what he could earn from it. This is where Wes’s code becomes more than preference. It becomes principle.

“I won’t lie to sell a pre-workout. Long term, it pays to be honest.”

Despite having the physique and personality to monetize aggressively, he refuses to promote what he doesn’t use. He values the quiet solidity of credibility over the quick hit of cash. The result? A community that trusts him, and a brand that grows organically without performing integrity. His income reflects that simplicity. No complicated funnels, no stacking revenue streams for ego. “I mostly make money off training people,” he explains. “Online coaching, a community. That’s it.” And even in that, he maintains perspective, something rare for a 24-year-old with influence.

“I don’t really care about money. I want to take care of my family and friends, sure, but we all die in the end. Money comes and goes like the wind. Purpose is the thing.”

In a space obsessed with hustle and scale, Wes’s code sounds almost radical: live with intention, fuel your body properly, tell the truth, build community, stay human.

Handling the internet (and its noise)

Wes approaches online criticism the way he approaches diet: read the label, keep what’s useful, throw out the junk. Nothing more. He doesn’t romanticize it, and he doesn’t pretend he’s immune. He’s honest about the sting.

“Some hate comments question your character, that's what stings,” he says. “But if it’s not from a close friend, it holds no weight.”

It’s a simple filter, but a powerful one. If someone doesn’t know him, their opinion can’t shape him. And if someone does know him, their feedback is rooted in love, not projection. His rule is strict and non-negotiable: Never respond. Not even once.

“When you respond, you invite more. Leave it. Let the internet argue with itself.”

There’s a quiet maturity in that, a refusal to feed the algorithm with his peace. During our conversation, Camille jumps in with something we’ve seen across creators of every size:

“People try to humble you when you step out. Unhappy people drag; people doing well don’t have time to.”

Wes laughs, because he’s lived it. “They only try to knock you down when you’re up.” It’s the unspoken law of the internet: visibility attracts projection. The better you do, the louder the noise. But Wes stays rooted. He doesn’t chase validation or defend himself to strangers. He’d rather pour his energy into building something real than fighting shadows online. In an industry where many creators spiral under scrutiny, Wes’s approach is almost serene, disciplined, detached, and grounded in self-awareness.

The Mission: build an “Older Brother” community

Wes doesn’t chase follower counts, contracts, or the traditional influencer playbook. His vision is quieter, deeper, more human. When we ask him about his long-term mission, he pauses, a rare moment of reflection in a conversation full of humor and quick answers.

“I’m still shaping it,” he admits. “But I want a community that inspires people to be human, capable in all areas, not just fitness.”

This is where his story shifts from content to calling. Wes isn’t trying to lead with abs or aesthetics. He’s more interested in grounding a generation that feels uprooted. The next sentence comes out with intention:

“I want to help younger guys with mindset, be the older brother I wish some of them had.”

It lands instantly. You can feel the weight of someone who grew up navigating two cultures, homes, and identities, someone who knows the loneliness of figuring it out alone. Camille, always quick to catch the emotional thread, gives it a name: “The Older Brother.” Wes’s face lights up, the concept clicking immediately. “That’s it. That’s the vibe.”

Not a mentor from a pedestal. Not a guru. Not a fitness bro selling shortcuts. An older brother, the one who tells you to show up for yourself, to stop comparing, to ignore the noise, to eat real food, to believe you’re capable.

The one who teaches you that taking care of your body is the first step toward taking care of your life.

And that’s what makes his mission powerful: it’s not about him. It’s about who his community becomes through him.

Living light: relationships, alcohol, and the art of not forcing it

Unlike many fitness creators who live in extreme restriction, Wes’s approach to life is refreshingly moderate. He drinks on occasion, never excessively, and mostly to share a moment, not escape one. “Nothing good comes from drinking… except a good time,” he grins. Relationships? He keeps them simple. Open-hearted, but not attached.

“I like women a little older, 27 to 30. It’s the maturity,” he says with a playful smile.

“At 24, I still want deep conversations, not sorority talk.” 

Behind the humor is a clear standard: connection over chaos. The more Wes speaks, the more his stance becomes clear: he’s allergic to performative living, no flashy displays, no pressure to flex. He has seen both extremes, Texas hustle culture and Eastern European resilience, and he gravitates toward substance. On wealth and status, he cuts straight through the noise: “Chasing millions to prove something? It’s empty.” For him, real wealth is measured differently: “Health, family, character, those cash out forever.”

I echo his sentiment: “Money as freedom, not identity. That’s the point.”

And that’s exactly where Wes lives, in the sweet spot between ambition and authenticity, growth and grounding, simplicity and depth.

Advice to new creators: the forge and the mountain

Wes doesn’t sugarcoat the journey. His advice to anyone stepping into the creator world is equal parts brutal honesty and poetic wisdom, a reflection of who he is: grounded, disciplined, and deeply reflective.

The forge: heat, pressure, pain, progress

He compares the early days of content creation to forging steel, raw material meeting fire and impact.

“At first, you’re thrown into the furnace. People laugh. You get one view, two views. Your friends giggle. You feel ridiculous.”

But that’s the point, he insists. The discomfort is not a sign to stop, it’s the necessary pressure that shapes you.

“Take it like steel, heat and hammer. Keep going. Fake it until you make it, then you’re a forged sword.” There’s resilience in his tone, but also a quiet confidence earned from doing it himself. He has lived the rejection, the awkwardness, the slow growth. He has stayed through it long enough to see the payoff. And then comes the mountain. Where others might end the analogy at the sword, Wes layers it with something more reflective, something more aligned with his personal philosophy.

“All the beauty is on the way up, the leaves, the rocks, the flowers.”

He pauses, then threads the metaphor into his bigger message.

“Fall in love with the climb. When you reach the top, look back and appreciate how far you’ve come.” 

It’s not about the summit, not the numbers, not the validation, not the applause. The summit is just a moment. Barely a breath. What shapes you is everything between step one and the view. Wes teaches it the way he lives it: Work with intention. Ignore the noise. Embrace the heat. Enjoy the climb.

Writer’s Note: Sophia

Meeting Wes felt like a breath of clean air, no shortcuts, no performative health. Just discipline, humor, and integrity. He’s the kind of creator who reminds you that consistency is the ultimate flex, and mindset is the muscle that moves everything else. What stayed with me most wasn’t the training tips or the travel stories, but the way he carries himself: grounded, gracious, and truly down-to-earth. We loved this conversation because behind the reels and the coaching is a young man who cares about people becoming better humans, not louder brands.

If you’re looking for an “older brother” online, someone who will tell you the truth, keep it simple, and make you stronger from the inside out - Wes is it.