Gents Journey
Helping Men become the Gentleman they deserve to be. This Podcast is part inspiration part motivation. We discuss what it takes to be a Gentleman in the 21st Century. We also talk about how to deal with the internal and external battles that life throws at us. So come be apart of the Gents Journey!
Gents Journey
The Key To Everything: The Hollow Crown.
Have you ever noticed yourself changing for an audience that wasn't even in the room when your journey began? This powerful episode explores the quiet, almost imperceptible drift from authentic presence to polished performance.
Through a compelling narrative about a man whose growing success gradually disconnects him from meaningful relationship, we witness the subtle transformation that happens not in dramatic moments of betrayal, but in the small choices to pursue recognition over connection. The story centers on a cafe relationship between the protagonist and Lena, who notices his shift before he does—how his words become headlines, his attention fragments, and the genuine exchange they once shared fades as external validation grows louder.
The heart of this episode lies in its unflinching examination of modern success. We're asked to consider when our relationships began waiting for our availability rather than receiving our attention. When did we start performing clarity instead of living it? And most powerfully, who stopped writing to us because we stopped listening?
This isn't just philosophical pondering—it's a practical exploration of how we inadvertently sacrifice depth for breadth in our connections. As the protagonist discovers, "the higher you go without presence, the quieter it gets, until the applause no longer echoes, it just surrounds you like insulation."
Between the captivating narrative and thought-provoking monologue, you'll find yourself questioning where in your life you might be collecting moments rather than experiencing them. The episode concludes with six reflection prompts that will stay with you long after listening.
Want to continue the conversation? Reach out through the description link, email anthony@gentsjourney.com, or connect on Instagram @MyGentsJourney. With over 260 episodes available, there's a wealth of insight waiting for you in the Gentleman's Journey archive.
"True mastery is found in the details. The way you handle the little things defines the way you handle everything."
Hello and welcome to the Gentleman's Journey podcast. My name is Anthony, your host, and today we are in episode four. It's crazy, these things just go by so, so fast. We're in episode four, to the key to everything, so let's go ahead and let's jump into the cold open. It started with a reply, not even a long one, just a subject line that read we'd love to have you. He read it twice, then again, like the words might disappear if you blink too long. It was from someone he used to admire, someone who once wouldn't have noticed him in a room full of applause and all they wanted was his thoughts, his story, his face on their stage. He stared at it for a long time. He didn't smile, didn't screenshot it, didn't even answer. He just sat there and for some reason he didn't think about Lena. He thought about the cafe, but not her. That was the first crack, the part where presence stopped being the point. It became something he assumed he would come back to later. But presence doesn't wait, it doesn't pause, it doesn't write its name in pencil so you can erase it when something shinier arrives.
Speaker 1:And that morning he replied let's talk, I'm interested. He didn't tell anyone, not even her, when he walked into the cafe ten minutes later he felt normal, still early, still smiling, still him. But something had already shifted, not in the room, not in her, in him. And that's how it begins, not with betrayal but with momentum. It started with a compliment. It was short, it was clean, it was measured. Your voice carries weight. That's what they wrote. An editor, someone he once followed silently online. They read his piece, they said it had clarity, asked if he considered being on a panel, he didn't hesitate, he didn't weigh in, didn't ask if it would cost him something, he just said yes. And then he said yes again to a podcast, then a brand inquiry, then a coffee meeting with someone who loved his tone. It doesn't feel like selling out, it feels like momentum. And momentum doesn't ask for permission, just calendar space.
Speaker 1:He still went to the cafe, still showed up before the rush. But now he came in mid-conversation, airpods, still in voice, slightly elevated, like he forgot where he was. Lena noticed, of course she did, but she didn't say anything, just poured the coffee, set it down. No second cup. He ended the call, dropped the earbuds into his pocket sorry brand thing trying to throw the needle between real and polished. She raised an eyebrow, half smiled, while you're getting better at the polished part. He laughed. Wait that. She tilted her head. It's either that or you're rehearsing for someone. That line stayed with him, but he played it off. Ah, nah, maybe I'm just becoming what I was always meant to be. She smiled, not wide, just enough. Well, let me know when you figure out what that is.
Speaker 1:He sat down at the window, same table, same seat, but his notebook stayed closed. He scrolled instead, answered a few messages, checked stats on a quote someone had pulled from a last essay. Then he looked up hey, how's your research going? She dried a mug, didn't look over. It's not research anymore, it's a paper. Then, after a pause, I'm writing about how people subtly change how they speak the moment they know they're being watched. He blinked so like created identity. She nodded Exactly, mask, without malice. He leaned back and smiled Sounds like something I should read before I go on this panel. She looked at him. Now I think you're already living it Still gentle, still Lena. But it wasn't a joke, not really. He left earlier than usual, said he had a meeting, said it casually. She didn't ask with who, didn't ask what for, just slid a napkin towards him as he stood. It said Remember who was listening? Before the room started clapping Al. He folded it quietly. He didn't respond and for the first time since they met he wondered if maybe she was starting to see through him and not all the way.
Speaker 1:In the next morning he came in later, not enough to be rude, just enough to feel it. The window seat, his seat, was already taken. Someone younger, talking louder, dressed, like they were trying. He waited at the counter. Lena was already busy, didn't glance up, Didn't say good morning first, and when she looked over her shoulder it was brief. She said usual. He nodded. She didn't ask how he was, didn't ask about the panel, didn't mention the last napkin. That was the flinch, not a shove, just a pullback.
Speaker 1:He sat at a side table, opened his laptop. He browsed without purpose, replied to three emails he didn't care about. She brought over his coffee anyways, set it down. No comment, no smile. He looked up, tried to recover something, trying to keep me caffeinated. She tilted her head.
Speaker 1:You've been speaking in headlines lately, figured, I'd help you keep up. He smirked. Hey, that's a good one. You should write that down. She didn't laugh. She just blinked slowly. She didn't laugh. She just blinked slowly, I do, you just don't read them anymore. The air changed. He tried to hold her gaze, but she was already walking away. That's when he realized the silence wasn't warm anymore. It was observational, like she was studying something that used to be familiar. He tried to write, opened his notebook, stared at the last page he'd written and it felt foreign, like it belonged to someone who hadn't been performing it. He forced out a paragraph, then crossed it out, closed the book. When she stopped by again, he asked You're always this blunt with people. She looked at him, smiled soft but not sweet, only with the ones who used to hear me the first time. Then she was gone again back to steaming milk.
Speaker 1:For the rest of that morning he sat alone in the room that used to be a sanctuary, and now it felt like he was waiting for him to wake up. He didn't, but he promised himself he'd try tomorrow. It wasn't that he stopped showing up, it wasn't that he stopped arriving. He came most mornings, still walked through the door, the same rhythm and a step, still ordered the same thing. But something else had taken his focus, something quieter and louder. His calendar was full Brand calls, panel prep, strategy briefs. He was now being called on for insight, for a voice. They said he was the kind of grounded we needed right now. Grounded, that word used to mean something different. Now it meant available, smart, on brand.
Speaker 1:He told himself it was a good season, that Lena would understand that when things settled he'd be back more present, more himself. But the thing about excuses is the better they sound, the harder they are to notice sound, the harder they are to notice. She was quieter now, still kind, still precise, but no longer offering space, no longer waiting to be a part of the conversation. One morning he asked about her paper, not to reconnect but to redirect the mood. How's the um identity thing going? She didn't look up right away. I'm writing about ambient applause. He blinked. That sounds abstract. She finally met his eyes. It's not. It's what happens when someone changes, not because they believe something different, but because they start getting rewarded for being a version of themselves they don't recognize. He nodded, smiled like a panelist. That sounds like something I'd quote on stage. She didn't smile, didn't nod. I wasn't offering it for the stage. And that's when he realized she had stopped showing up. She had just stopped translating.
Speaker 1:That afternoon he posted a clip from a green room captioned Quiet Before the Story Begins. He didn't tag her, didn't think of her, not because she didn't matter, but because she no longer fit the shape of the story he was telling. That night he opened his notebook and found her last napkin tucked inside Remember who was listening? Before the room started clapping. It looks smaller now, as if it had been written by someone trying to leave a message on the way out. But she hadn't left, not yet. He just wasn't giving her a reason to stay.
Speaker 1:He came in just before noon, not late exactly, but not early enough to be a part of the morning rhythm. She was wiping down a table. He didn't glance up, didn't pour the coffee ahead of time. He stood at the counter longer than usual. There was a couple ahead of him. They were laughing about something he didn't hear.
Speaker 1:When it was his turn she looked at him like a customer, the usual. He hesitated, unless I've become something else or someone else. She just gave a small smile. I'm sure I'd notice it should have felt warm, but it didn't. It felt like the kind of thing you say to someone you're no longer checking for. She brought the coffee to his table, set it down, didn't sit, didn't linger, just set it down and started walking away.
Speaker 1:He reached for something anything I'm giving a talk next week. She turned halfway. That's great. He waited for a question. That didn't come. They said I'm the only one who doesn't sound like I'm selling something. She nodded that's a great trick, sounding real when you're performing. He blinked Is that what you think I'm doing? She didn't answer right away. Then, gently, I think you're starting to believe your own echo. She didn't say like an accusation. She said like a nurse reading someone their test results no anger. She sat like a nurse reading someone their test results no anger, just facts. He sipped the coffee. It tasted the same, but it didn't land. He looked at her across the cafe. She was laughing Again, but not at him, she wasn't being cruel, she was just being somewhere else.
Speaker 1:Now that night he opened the drawer where he kept the key, held it in his hand. It still felt heavy, still cold, still the same object that started all of this. He started it for a long time Then whispered Don't let me disappear. But the key didn't answer and neither did she. The room wasn't big but it felt full A velvet backdrop, two chairs and a moderator with a clipboard and an audience full of people who looked at notebooks in their dreams. They introduced him with a bio he hadn't approved. He didn't correct them. It sounded better than the truth.
Speaker 1:He took the mic with a half smile, a nod and a kind of polish that made him feel like he did this all the time now and the he did. He was asked about voice, about clarity, about why his essays felt like they were written from the inside out. He answered like a man who'd been practicing becoming natural. He said things like most people confuse momentum for movement. Where presence isn't found, it's returned to. Clarity is what happens when you subtract applause. They nodded, they scribbled, one woman wiped a tear.
Speaker 1:He kept talking, but somewhere in the middle of his third answer, something flickered, not in the lights, but in his memory Lena laughing at a joke he hadn't meant to make. But in his memory, lena Laughing at a joke he hadn't meant to make, not in a green room, not in a post, just in a moment, a real one. He blinked, it passed. He kept going, told a story about struggle, made it sound cinematic, heard his voice get deeper at the right moments. He's seen someone mouth his words like lyrics. He hit the end of the segment with a standing ovation. It was clean, it was professional, it was effective and for the first time in weeks he didn't think about her during the speech.
Speaker 1:As soon as he sat backstage, glass of water in hand, his name on the bottle label, he felt something twist. Not pain, not regret, just a pull, like the pause had landed in his ears but missed his chest. He pulled out his notebook, wrote one line I'm starting to miss who I was before I knew what to say. Then he closed. It Didn't share the quote, didn't post, didn't tell anyone.
Speaker 1:That night he skipped the cafe again. Another call, Another call, another strategy. He told himself it was temporary, just another climb. But the next morning when he looked in the mirror, he didn't see a man getting closer to himself. He saw a man getting better at distance.
Speaker 1:He returned to the cafe on Wednesday Mid-morning. No rush, no plan, he told himself. It was just a routine. But he knew better. He hadn't seen her in five days. Not really. She was there, of course, moving through the cafe like breath, quiet needed, easy to miss if you didn't stay present. Presence had come, something he dipped into, not something he lived in. The chime on the door was the same. So was the bell above the register, so was the hum of milk being steamed, spoons clinking, pages turning, but the space between them wasn't.
Speaker 1:She glanced up when he walked in, didn't pause, didn't pour in advance, just a small nod. Nothing withheld, but nothing offered either. He took the window seat. It was open, but it didn't feel saved. She brought the cup a few minutes later, sat it down like a normal person. No ceremony, no second cup, no napkin, no napkin. He paused. He looked at her for a long moment. He looked at her like he was waiting for a spark that used to ignite just from eye contact. It didn't Thanks, he said. She nodded, wiped her hands on a towel, didn't sit, didn't ask how he was. He waited. But waiting without invitation is its own kind of silence. After a minute he cleared his throat. I spoke last night.
Speaker 1:The panel went well, that's great. No follow-up, no spark, just a statement. He tried again. Hey, someone told me I reminded them of someone they used to trust. She looked at him for the first time, really looked. Do you, do I what Remind you of someone you used to trust? He blinked. He didn't answer. She sat down across from him. She sat down across from him just for a moment, just long enough. Do you know why I stopped writing the notes? He stayed still, he didn't blink, he didn't even breathe, because I realized you weren't reading them, you were just collecting them. She wasn't angry, she was gone, still there, but gone.
Speaker 1:Words aren't gifts if you only open them when you need a quote, that one, that one hit really hard. He reached for his notebook. He didn't open it. She stood, wiped her hands again and nodded. I hope you remember who you were before you started getting all this work. Before he started getting all this work, he opened his mouth but nothing came. She walked away, didn't look back, didn't pause, just moved.
Speaker 1:That night he sat in the dark, key in hand, notebook open. For the first time in a long time he didn't write for the room, he wrote for her. But more than that, he wrote for the part of himself she had been speaking to all along, not the man on stage, the one in the chair, the window seat, before the world ever clapped. So let's go ahead and let's get into the monologue. You know you don't ever lose yourself all at once, right, it happens in applause, in praise, in the tiny addictive moments where people tell you you're everything they've been waiting for and a part of you believes it, because you really want to right as I hit the mic, sorry guys Because the part of you that once felt invisible, you finally are feeling seen right.
Speaker 1:See, this episode wasn't about a fall. It was about the drift before the fall, the slow, almost imperceptible shift where presence becomes performance and performance becomes protection. He didn't abandon who he was. He didn't abandon who he was. He just started feeding the version of himself that got rewarded, got quoted, you know, received admiration. At first it's harmless, right? You say yes to a few more things, you polish a few more sentences, you give answers, you know will land right.
Speaker 1:And then one day you're at a table with someone who used to know you and they don't lean in anymore because the conversation is no longer with them, it's with your audience. That's what Lena felt. That's why the second cup stopped arriving. That's why the second cup stopped arriving, that's why the napkin stopped coming, because presence doesn't chase you, it waits quietly until it no longer can. And I should say the haunting part of that is that think about it. He was still rising, still getting invitations, still being introduced with words that once felt about it. He was still rising, still getting invitations, still being introduced, with words that once felt like dreams.
Speaker 1:Right, but the higher you go without presence, the quieter it gets, until the applause no longer echoes, it just surrounds you like insulation. That's where many of us live now. We perform clarity instead of living it. We talk about authenticity like it's a brand position. We remember moments as content, not connection. But Lena remembered. She remembered who he was before the world clapped and when he stopped being that man not to grow but to perform she didn't push him, she stepped back. She didn't leave to teach him a lesson, she just stopped writing for a version of him that wasn't listening. And that's what this episode was trying to say. Sometimes you get everything you wanted and you still miss the thing that mattered, because the thing that matters can't be captured in a quote or a stage or a perfectly lit moment.
Speaker 1:It's the coffee before the day begins and the pause between the replies and the notes someone writes by hand, hoping you still know how to read between the lines. So ask yourself when did you become or I should say, when did your life become something to manage instead of something to feel? When did your relationship start waiting for your availability instead of your attention? Have you traded presence for praise? Have you forgotten what it feels like to be in a room without performing? And, more than that, who stopped writing to you because you stopped listening? There's still time, time to sit down, time to go back, to open the notebook again, not to create something for the world, but to remind yourself that before the climb, there was someone who sat with coffee and just existed. And that version of you still waits at the table, quiet, unpolished and honest.
Speaker 1:So let's go ahead and let's get into the reflection prompts. Reflection one when did you start performing instead of being present? You know, I think a lot of people you know, I think a lot of people just my personal opinion perform instead of being present because we're always trying to appease people and we don't want to be by ourselves. So a lot of time we're performing instead of being present. This is my personal opinion. Number two what's the cost of being admired by people? You don't know. That's a big, big question. Number three have you ever been applauded for a version of yourself that doesn't feel real anymore? A lot of us have. Number four who did you stop listening to when the world started paying attention? Number five what moment in your life felt like applause but echoed hollow afterward? And number six who would you like to return to without announcing it? So you know I'm going to be honest here with you guys, like writing this. You know I'm going to be honest here with you guys, like writing this. You know this couple. You know Lena and our main guy.
Speaker 1:This happens a lot in relationships Romantic relationships, plutonic relationships when one person stops showing up because maybe they get better, they start making more money, they start achieving success. Or it's the other way, where something happens in their life and they take a downturn right, and we stop being present for the people around us and after a while they kind of return the favor. You know a lot of people don't understand like relationships have an ebb and flow to them, and this one does too. But the more present you can be in a relationship being plutonic or romantic you're giving the biggest gift of all to them, which is your time and presence. That's why presence and giving presence sound the same. Because they are, it's the biggest present you can give to anybody. Your time and your focus is the best thing you can really give anybody, because it's something you can never give back or get back. I should say so well, there's gonna be another one coming right after this and I'm telling you this is where man, this is where things start to really change for him. But I wanna thank every single one of you for giving me your time and listening today. I cannot tell you how much it means to me that you take your time and being present in this series and in this podcast. It means the absolute world to me as we talk about that.
Speaker 1:If you have any questions about this episode, this series, the six or seven other series I have out there and the 250 plus episodes I have now, please never hesitate to reach out to me. There's three different ways. First way is going to be through the description here, where it says let's chat. You click on that. You and I can have a conversation about this series, this episode and the 260 other plus episodes I have out there. A second one is going to be through my email. My email is anthony at gentsjourneycom. And then, last but not least, you can always reach out to me on my Instagram. My Instagram is MyGentsJourney. So again, thank you so, so, so, very much for listening today. And remember this you create your reality. Take care Bye.