Just Marry Rich
Just Marry Rich
My mom sits on the couch, drinking champagne and feeling festive.
"Just marry rich, and you can have all of this!" she announces proudly as I'm leaving our crappy two-bedroom Beverly Hills apartment, crammed with music equipment and oversized, dated antique furniture.
We'd moved from New Canaan, Connecticut, after my parents divorced. Back then, I had two houses—one for Mom and one for Dad. Now we live south of Santa Monica Boulevard, on the wrong side of wealth.
I look down at my $3 T-shirt from Thrifty's drugstore. I'm wearing nice jeans.
I feel puzzled and promptly ignore my mother's financial advice.
One day, walking up the stairs to our apartment, I see a pink notice taped to our door.
My heart pounds. Eviction?
No. Our phone is about to be disconnected.
I yell to my mom, "What is this?"
"Oh, I forgot to pay the bills," she says casually.
Dad sends Mom $2,000 a month, so I know she has the money. I find her checkbook and the unpaid bills, write checks for her to sign, balance the register, and mail everything.
I even hand-deliver our rent check.
Well, that was easy.
What isn't easy is dating.
I have crushes on rich boys who live north of Sunset Boulevard.
One is Larry, who's friends with Erik Menendez, who would later murder his parents for money.
I don't like Larry at first, but he's charming. By the time I fall in love with him, instead of taking me to senior prom, he rents a motorhome and takes a Playboy Bunny.
I'm crushed and think, rich boys don't date poor girls unless they're arm candy.
Senior year, I'm struggling with my college essay, so I ask Mom for help. When I read what she writes, I'm horrified.
It's entirely about her.
I need Dad's help and have a ticket to visit him at Thanksgiving. Dad lives in Tokyo but will be in Hong Kong on business. We don't tell Mom I'm going to Hong Kong because the last time I was there, I'd taken a taxi by myself, which Dad had suggested I do if I got tired of walking.
My mom was furious with my dad when she found this out.
The day before my trip, she searched my bag, discovered my paper plane ticket to Hong Kong, and forbade me to go.
We fight for three hours. I'm crying, feeling trapped.
I f***ing hate my mom.
Then I see a way out. I look her directly in the eye.
"I'm not the kind of girl who sneaks out to Hong Kong behind my mother's back."
The next morning at 6 a.m., I sneak out the back door with my passport and suitcase, drive myself to LAX, and collect a replacement ticket Dad arranged.
Terrified Mom will come drag me out of the airport,
I hide at a different gate, a few gates down.
At the final boarding call, I race across the terminal, sunlight is streaming through the airport windows, heart pounding, and make it through the jetway.
She isn't there.
Everything is going to be okay.
Mom calls the police, claiming Dad kidnapped me.
I'm eighteen. They do nothing.
When I return, she's destroyed my bedroom—clothes pulled from drawers,
bookshelves torn down, figurines broken, including my piggy bank.
And I'm the one who has to see a shrink because I lied to my mom.
After I get into UC Berkeley, I finally feel free.
I'm sitting in the back seat of my friend's convertible BMW with my two best friends,
driving down Wilshire Boulevard. my favorite song comes on the radio
"Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears.
Sunlight reflects off an office building and shines down on me.
It's the most perfect feeling—euphoria.
I can have all of this and not marry rich.
Thank you for reading!
I wrote this in Lizzie Smon's memoir class and read it out loud.
Lizzie taught the class that Belle Burden took three times!
My goal is to write about discovering your (alpha), the thing that makes you unique.
If you have a personal story to share in how you discovered what makes you unique, or
how you discovered your northstar, pls reach out or
reach out if you need financial advice!
Tiffany Kent
Your Friendly Wealth Engagement Guide
Disclosure: For informational purposes only. This material reflects general views and is not individualized investment, legal, or tax advice. Investing involves risk, including possible loss of principal. Wealth Engagement LLC is an SEC-registered investment adviser; registration does not imply a particular level of skill or training.
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