Confidence has a reputation for being loud. In reality it is often quiet, steady and completely unapologetic. Here are twenty things that belong in that category.
- Liking red meat. A decent steak, rare or medium-rare, is one of life’s straightforward pleasures. No lecture about carbon footprints or plant-based alternatives will ever make a rib-eye taste worse.
- Owning more than one watch. Phones tell the time perfectly well, yet a solid mechanical watch on the wrist still feels right. Collecting them is not vanity; it is appreciation of craftsmanship.
- Enjoying a proper beer. Lager, bitter, stout, whatever the choice, raising a glass in a good pub with decent company remains a civilised ritual. The first sip never needs justification.
- Taking up space in the gym. Broad shoulders and heavy squats require room. Moving a bench an extra foot so a deadlift can happen properly is not arrogance; it is physics.
- Having a loud laugh. Some men laugh like a foghorn. Good. The world already has enough restrained chuckling.
- Knowing the offside rule. Football knowledge is not compulsory, but understanding why a goal was disallowed saves a lot of pointless debate later.
- Preferring action films to subtitled dramas. Explosions, one-liners and a clear bad guy provide honest entertainment. Nobody ever left Die Hard needing therapy.
- Keeping a pocket knife. A small, legal blade has opened boxes, tightened screws and rescued picnic cheese since the Bronze Age. Tradition deserves respect.
- Enjoying the smell of petrol. It reminds many of childhood trips in the back of a Ford Escort, of karting circuits, of motorbikes being kick-started on Sunday mornings. Nostalgia has its own aroma.
- Owning tools and knowing how to use them. Changing a tyre, bleeding a radiator or hanging a shelf badly once and then correctly the second time are all part of basic adulthood.
- Checking out an attractive woman. Appreciation of beauty is hard-wired. A glance that lasts half a second longer than strictly necessary harms no one provided manners stay intact.
- Wanting to win. Whether it is five-a-side, a pub quiz or a promotion, healthy competition keeps the blood moving. Second place is just first loser, as one NASCAR driver never tires of saying.
- Spending money on a good haircut. A sharp fade or a classic short back and sides can improve an entire month. Cheap haircuts look exactly that.
- Having mates who have known each other since school. Old friendships come with private jokes, zero filter and the comforting knowledge that someone once saw you vomit behind a bus shelter and still answers the phone.
- Liking fast cars. Speed, noise and the faint smell of hot brakes are visceral pleasures. A spirited drive on an empty road at dawn is cheaper than therapy and twice as effective.
- Refusing to dance when the music is rubbish. Shuffling awkwardly to please others is undignified. A firm headshake and a position by the bar preserve self-respect.
- Eating the hottest curry on the menu. Pride, machismo and mild masochism combine when the waiter asks if Madras will be spicy enough. The answer is always no.
- Supporting the same football team through relegation and ridicule. Loyalty is not conditional on success. Wearing the shirt when the team is bottom of the league builds character.
- Needing time alone. A few hours in a shed, on a motorbike or simply with headphones in cancels the noise of the world. Solitude is maintenance, not selfishness.
- Growing a beard when the mood takes. Facial hair arrives without consultation and leaves the same way. Between those points it acts as a built-in filter for people with strong opinions about other people’s faces.
These twenty things share a common thread. None harm anyone else. None require permission. They are small declarations of independence in a world that increasingly demands explanation for everything.
History is full of men who refused to say sorry for harmless preferences. Winston Churchill never apologised for cigars or brandy. Ernest Shackleton never apologised for wanting to reach the South Pole first. David Attenborough, now ninety-eight, has never apologised for preferring jungles to dinner parties.
The trick is knowing the difference between confidence and arrogance. One is quiet self-assurance; the other is noise designed to drown out insecurity. Real confidence does not need to announce itself. It simply gets on with enjoying a rare steak, a fast corner or a pint of bitter without footnotes.
Life is short. The list could easily stretch to fifty or a hundred, but twenty is enough to make the point. Some things are worth doing purely because they feel right. No apology required.
