Deep Down

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There is a scene in BoJack Horseman that has stayed with me ever since I saw it the first time. In the episode 'Downer Ending', BoJack asks Diane whether she believes he is a good person deep down. He is not asking about his actions. He is not asking about consequences. He is asking whether, somewhere beneath the damage he caused and the poor decisions he made to his own and others' detriment, there exists a hidden core that redeems him. He is begging her to absolve him, to assure him, to soothe him. Diane doesn't answer him. Downer ending. A few days later, they sit on the roof together, she answers honestly with her distinct, calm demeanour. 'I don't believe in deep down. All you are is the things that you do.'

That statement and its sentiment align completely with how I am choosing to conduct myself. I do not believe goodness lives somewhere buried, waiting to compensate for behaviour that contradicts it. Character is not an internal fantasy. It is visible. It is enacted. It is constructed through repetition. What we practice becomes who we are.

Perhaps that is why I have always been drawn to art that refuses to flatter the human condition. German Expressionism is my favourite artistic movement for this very reason. Otto Dix painted faces marked by war and excess without softening their edges. Franz Marc translated turmoiled emotion into bold, almost spiritual colour. The poetry of Gottfried Benn and Else Lasker-Schüler carries despair, pain and intensity, fragmentation, longing, and defiance. None of them offered prettiness for comfort. They exposed fracture and insisted that we look directly at it. Beyond Expressionism, the stark moral landscapes of Cormac McCarthy operate with the same severity. His worlds are stripped to action and consequence. There is no hidden redemption waiting in the wings. There is only what a person does when tested.

This aesthetic has always felt honest and true to me because I see beauty in what is cracked. Not because I romanticise despair, but because I recognise something essential: light enters and exits through fracture. When someone has faced their own demons, met adversity head on, overcome obstacles and still chooses integrity - that light shines outward through the very places that once felt damaged. Perfection is static. Texture is alive. If there is no deep down, then there is no secret chamber of goodness waiting to balance repeated misalignment. There is only behaviour. There is only choice. This perspective is not harsh. It is clarifying. Identity is shaped by repetition, not by intention or self-image. We are formed by pattern. Patterns we have the choice every day to bring to live, to rearrange, to break and create anew.

I live by a principle that has guided me for decades, I even have this formula of how I live my life tattooed on my body: choose not default. The default setting is reaction. It is drifting into familiar habits because they are comfortable. It is explaining and excusing ourselves rather than refining and sharpening ourselves. The subversive paradigm asks something far more deliberate. What did you choose? Not what did you think. Not what did you feel. Not what did you mean. What did you enact? That question restores agency. It removes fantasy and replaces it with responsibility.

Berlin, where I lived for many years, offers this in a visceral way. She is not conventionally beautiful. Her surfaces are rough, layered with history, unapologetically textured - broken, reassembled, bombed out, rebuilt. But hatred turned into love, vast empty spaces gave way to artist communes and cultural centres, history is dense and a testament to taking action when it counts. She is one of the most magnetic cities in the world. Her allure lies in her raw honesty. Berlin does not polish her scars. She wears them proudly as a reminder of what she has overcome, what Europe and the world have overcome. She might not be pretty and beguiling, but she is alive, she is real, and she is exciting.

That is also what draws me to people. If there is a gap between language and behaviour, my mind, body and soul register misalignment and I withdraw. Intimacy grows through repetition of trustworthy acts, not declarations. I do not need to be dazzled by performance. I am drawn to coherence. A man whose actions align with his words. A man who honours his commitments and chooses respect repeatedly. Not because he performs virtue, but because he practices it until it becomes natural, his nature. There is something profoundly sensual about consistency. It allows full relaxation. It invites deepened closeness. It makes curiosity sparkle. When I sense alignment, I soften completely. I lean in all the way. I allow my innate playfulness to unfold completely.

I welcome imperfection. The polished façade does not interest me. A man who has lived, who has erred, who has recalibrated and integrated his fractures carries depth. However, there is a distinction between being cracked and being careless. Vulnerability is not the same as emotional spillage. Acknowledging pain is not the same as using it to justify negative behaviour. Light breaking through cracks is one of the most beautiful sights. I will never judge someone for their past, for what they have endured; I simply observe what they practice now. Does he choose kindness when cynicism would be easier? Does he take the principled path when the shortcut glitters? Does he remain present when discomfort surfaces?

To submit to the subversive paradigm is to interrupt our autopilot. It is to respond deliberately rather than impulsively. It requires discipline, yet it yields the biggest rewards. I have always played the long game in my own life. Hard work compounds. Choosing the right path over the easy one reshapes a life steadily and quietly. Love is the force that I desire to guide me.

In my coaching conversations, this becomes beautifully practical. We move away from an abstract identity and toward embodied practice. The question is no longer who are we deep down. It becomes what are we rehearsing. Are we practising avoidance or presence? Excuses or accountability? Distraction or connection? Identity ceases to be theoretical. It becomes visible and clear in our behaviour.

Desire follows the same principle. Attraction is not built on who someone believes themselves to be at their core. It is built on how they show up. How they listen. Whether they remain in integrity. Whether their actions carry weight. There is nothing more magnetic to me than someone who has chosen their direction consciously. Not flawlessly. Not perfectly. Consciously.

If you are what you do, then you are not trapped by an old version of yourself. You are not defined by a past mistake, nor rescued by hidden virtue. You are free to act differently. You have a choice. Small shifts alter trajectory. A promise honoured. A conversation approached with care. A boundary respected. A habit refined. Over time, these accumulate. The cracks remain, but they begin to glow and eventually shine.

Wealth and taste have many different faces. Wealth and taste are discernment. Recognising that depth outlasts spectacle, that presence outlasts performance, that integrity outlasts a brief flutter of charm. I am drawn to those who understand and value this way of life. Men who value alignment over applause. Men who prefer substance to display. Men who are willing to choose not default and to submit to the subversive paradigm of deliberate action. Do you recognise yourself, or are you interested in that quiet discipline, in that preference for longevity and integrity over impulse? We will likely understand one another if you do. Would like to explore what that feels like in conversation, in presence, with a fast woman practising and being devoted to the slow life? I welcome you to my world, right here in my heartland, my Melbourne.

There is no hidden chamber of goodness waiting to be discovered. There is only what we choose right now, today. And that, to me, is where the real fulfilment lives - in the connection of mind, body and soul.

Come close, stay close, fulfil your desires.