He was no Britney, but he did have Britney money.
Money that came fast. And the things that come with money fast too.
Big home. Big car. Big boat. Even got himself a big plane. To take big trips.
Not to common locations. I'm talking exotic locations. Locations whose names I couldn't even pronounce when we caught up the other day.
A rare chance to sit down with a grad school friend of mine who had made it big.
But something in my pal had changed.
He wasn't so happy. He still had the money — lots of that.
But not the wife or the kids. They split. He split. I don't remember. I know I didn't ask.
I guess his parents had since passed away, and as an only child he told me he was pretty much the only one enjoying his good fortune.
I joked, "Well, maybe that's until your divorce is finalized."
He stops me.
"She can have it all, Neil...not that she's asking, but she can."
I'm surprised. He goes on to say how he's been battling depression, and loneliness, and now, a bad weight problem.
I laugh, "Let me know how you figure the weight thing out."
He shrugs, then discusses our college days, when we were much younger, much thinner men.
Where did the time go, he asked.
I reminded him he always wanted to be rich. And he succeeded. He should be happy.
But clearly he was not.
My friend's no Britney, but like Britney, I do sense he is alone.
With his money, and none of the security and happiness he thought would come with it.
It built him a grand home.
Sad, these days it seems a grand fortress.
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