There is a polite fiction we are sold as young men: that to be a "gentleman" is to be harmless. We are taught to make others happy, mind our manners, and keep our voices at a civil decibel. Or we simply learn to be “nice” because people are nicer to us that way. 45 years into life I can testify this strategy is not working.

Locking the Sailor in the basement

When you take the raw, salt-crusted sailor (nod to one of my grandads) of your soul and lock him in the dark of the basement, you don’t eliminate the storm—you simply build a stage for two major crises down the line.

First - when the sailor finally gets out to see what is out there in the world, prepare for a massive takeover, and an intergalactic parental-advisory labeled version of Pirates of Caribbean meeting Wolf of Wall Street reality show.

Second - you will be served situations where you are progressively feeling as a doormat or a people pleaser, in both cases unable to guard your own borders. And that will make you realise that you simply cannot prosper in this world without integrating your “Wild Sailor” because it is your life force that you locked away.

Setting my stage

I grew up a gentleman because I felt my mom wanted me to be a gentleman - a man that she deserves. This was reinforced by my grandad (the only one that was alive still) being a gentleman himself. He would garden in a tie, spoke several languages, traveled around the world and brought us candy and gifts from those trips.

Subconsciously I picked up ice hockey - where I felt alive, and could channel my wild side without me knowing. At a young age, I onboarded in an ice hockey school - an environment that, much like the army, prizes discipline, order, and the suppression of the individual impulse above all else. Training two times a day. Discipline and self-restraint.

I started to build my career during University already. Driven by my discipline, competitive spirit, and assertiveness I climbed up the ladder fast enough.

Because I had spent decades denying my "wild side"—that primal, essential masculine power—it didn't just go away. It fermented. When I finally reached 31 years, I had enough money, power and decided to see "what was out there," the basement door didn't just open; it exploded off the hinges.

The Chaos of the Mad Sailor

In Singapore and Malaysia, one of the local names for white men is “matsalleh” which originates from “mad sailor”. Describing the exact state in which the locals would experience white men after getting off the ships after months of “self-restrain”.

I dove headfirst into a relentless chase for the next high: too many women, too many drugs, and a calendar of parties that never seemed to end. In my quest to finally "live," I left a trail of wreckage and hurt people in my wake.

Double Whammy

The irony of this "double whammy" is that once the dust settles and you see the damage you’ve caused, your instinct is to amputate that power even more severely. You tell yourself,

"See? I am dangerous. I cannot be trusted with my own strength."

So I pushed the wild side deeper into the dark, becoming even more frustrated, more hollow, and—crucially—bitterly resentful of any man who dares to display the very fire I’ve extinguished in yourself.

The Wake-Up Call in the Boardroom

The realization hit me not in a moment of debauchery, but in the sterile environment of corporate consulting. I was across the table from men who were what I called “sabretooth tigers”—aggressive, arrogant, mean, powerful. Always ready to take advantage of the weaker ones.

I realized, with a sinking gut feeling, that these men were stepping on me. Or rather I allowed them to do so, because they simply had too much "teeth" for me. They sensed my "nice guy" energy and they banked on it.

This was the wake up call I needed. Running down the staircase with the keys to bring the sailor back. This time doing proper shadow work to integrate what I feared and denied and transform that inner fire into a protective, assertive strength. Gaining the necessary gravity to hold my ground.

Tony Azuaje, who initiated me into my own power and who is my role model for integrating gentleness and immense strength.

True Kindness is a Choice

The epiphany was this: True strength lies in integration, not suppression.

There is a profound difference between a man who is "kind" because he lacks the capacity for violence, and a man who is kind because he has his inner beast on a short, disciplined leash.

The world respects the man who can be dangerous but chooses to be gentle. You see it in his eyes; you feel it in the weight of his presence. It’s the energy of a seasoned captain who knows how to navigate a gale but chooses to keep the ship steady for his passengers.

We must stop locking the sailor in the basement. We must bring him up to the deck, become friends with it. And together sail towards horizons we never dreamt of.

Only when you acknowledge your capacity for the wild can you truly claim the title of a gentleman.

The Sailor and the Storm: Why a Man Must Master His Inner Wild