I am a big fan favourite of the TV series carlifornication for more than what people think but especially because I see myself in the shoes of Hank Moody the star who is a writer with a million issues going through his life but he always reminds us that family is the best thing that any man needs to keep him sane and to never forget his morals especially the write woman and the product of your loins i.e. your offspring.

Below is one of the most emotional parts of that series and to me its the best scene yet:

Dear Karen,

If you’re reading this, it means I actually worked up the courage to mail it, so good for me. You don’t know me very well, but if you get me started, I have the tendency to go on and on about how hard the writing is for me. But this, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write. There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it: I met someone.

It was an accident. I wasn’t looking for it. I wasn’t on the make. It was a perfect storm. She said one thing, I said another. Next thing I knew, I wanted to spend the rest of my life in that conversation. Now there’s this feeling in my gut that she might be the one. She’s completely nuts in a way that makes me smile. Highly neurotic, a great deal of maintenance required. She is you, Karen. That’s the good news.

The bad is that I don’t know how to be with you right now. That scares the shit out of me, because I have this feeling that if I’m not with you right now, we’ll get lost out there. It’s a big, bad world full of twists and turns and people have a way of blinking and missing the moment. A moment that could have changed everything. I don’t know what’s going on with us and I can’t tell you why you should waste a leap of faith on the likes of me. But damn, you smell good, like home, and you make excellent coffee. That’s got to count for something, right? Call me.

Unfaithfully yours,

Hank Moody

Californication – Season 2 – Episode 10


So don’t get the implication that californication is just for the sex but the story line always made the cut.


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