I finished corporate work in 2020, at forty-five. That June I also stopped drinking, after twenty-seven years of drinking every day. I expected all of it to feel like loss. It turned out to be the first quiet I had had in twenty years.
What it looks like
I rent, for the first time since university, in a town in rural northern Tenerife. Three storeys, which sounds grander than it is, with a roof terrace at the top. Potted plants up there, and a washing line, which makes me one of a handful of people in town who actually use one.
I have no car. I walk, take the bus or get a taxi. I have worn a watch for a fraction of my life, and I wear no jewellery.
A day
Breakfast, water, work on my own body, then a two-hour walk through hills and heat. Proper clothes. Coffee on the square. Work in the afternoon. Sleep on time.
I say hello to at least ten people a day. I carry cash so I can tip. I change my clothes two or three times a day, and I never iron.
The best seat in the house
It is not in the house. It is sideways on the bus to Puerto de la Cruz, with the sea air coming in. I control nothing on that bus, and that is exactly why it works. Bus stops are incredible places to watch life. You will see more there in ten minutes than in an evening of scrolling.
None of it costs much. Most of it is free. It takes time, and time is the new currency.
Why any man
In nearly twenty years of headhunting, I found most men want the same few things: contentment, minimal fuss, no drama and no fakes. Meaning, purpose, and someone who listens. Not one of those comes from the size of the front door. The front door only needs to be as big as you.
I have lived what a lot of men imagine is better: the job, the travel, the rooms with famous people in them. I believe a man only needs to live those things for a while to learn that none of them, on its own, makes him content. We are more complicated than that.
The rude question
Lately I ask people whether they know anyone who is content with their life. Quite rude, I know. After a two-minute chat I can usually tell they are not quite there themselves.
For me, contentment is what is left when the performing stops. It is not a mood. It is a state your whole body is in or out of, and I was out of it for so long I had stopped noticing.
The ingredients are ordinary
I am not telling you to move to Tenerife. A walk, a bus, a coffee somewhere you are known, clean clothes, a few hellos, enough sleep. Most men have every one of those within reach. The hard part is stopping long enough to notice.
Life is hard. Life is long. Some days it is pretty boring. It takes effort, and I believe the men who make it will do well in what is coming.
This is my life, honestly reported. It is not a prescription for yours.
Written by James Roberts, with help from AI.