“What’s the quickest way to become a millionaire? Borrow fivers off everyone you meet.” ~Richard Branson
Here’s Richard Branson at age 27 on a boat on the Thames for the launch of the Sex Pistol’s God Save The Queen. The police chased the boat, people were arrested, and everyone had a jolly good time.
I once conducted a thought experiment to see if I could imagine hooking up with a celebrity. This is a pastime I never quite got into. I don’t look at pictures of strangers from TV and think, gee, I sure would like to kiss that guy. Just thinking about it now, I get that old familiar feeling of revulsion. On some fundamental level, I don’t really even get the impulse. I explained why early in my blogging life in a post titled If You Knew Branson Like I Knew Branson.
Practically everyone I know has a celebrity crush, so I began to wonder what my malfunction was. I like to use my imagination. I like people. I’m not a prude. So, I tried to think of celebrities as objects of desire rather than entertainers and dancing monkeys.
It took a long time, but I finally made up my mind that Richard Branson was the only possible choice. It helped that I once had a dream that I was married to him, and I was really happy. But that’s besides the point…no, wait, maybe I didn’t even do the task properly. My imagination stole from my dream. My waking self is a rotten thief.
Ok, I know what you’re saying…Branson’s not really a celebrity, or it’s because he’s rich, or ew, that guy’s 20 years older than you. But, I refute all of these statements (except for the 20 years my senior one, that’s true). First off, he’s celebrity enough. Secondly, I’m not that shallow to pick someone for their money. If that were the case, I’d have it bad for Bill Gates or Warren Buffet or Carlos Slim Helu.
But what I’ve realized about my journey to Sir Richard is that I only chose him because I want to be like him. He’s the only famous person whose life I envy. He seems happy and fulfilled and fun. Not the kind of fun only money can buy, but truly fun. Someone who’s up for an adventure. Who’s not afraid to take a risk. Who treats waitstaff well. Who will fly a hot air balloon around the world but will also kick it on the couch and watch a DVD or read a book or talk about ideas. So, really, I ended up picking who I’d like to be if I couldn’t be me. But, whatever. I did the assignment!
I didn’t know then that my fantasy relationship with Branson would fester and return. He was profiled in The New Yorker last month and by chance someone mentioned it to me. I don’t get The NYer, so I haven’t read it yet. But I’m getting it. A copy of the article is on its way! And when I do, I’ll be sure to share some of the best stories about him. Stay tuned. Oh, and when you get a chance, can you send me 5 bucks?
