January 29, 2009--Dating a Banker Anonymous
I had an unexpected reaction to an article that appeared in yesterday’s New York Times, “It’s the Economy, Girlfriend.” (Linked below.)
It was pointed out to me by a relative who suggested it was a good piece of schadenfreude, knowing that I have an occasional, difficult-to-overcome, appetite for learning about and enjoying the troubles of the overprivileged.
The piece reports about a support group, Dating a Banker Anonymous, formed by young women to help them cope with the relationship fallout that is a consequence of the collapse of the Wall Street economy.
Here’s Christine Cameron’s not-so-anonymous story: She was dating a financial analyst who after losing his job would get drunk and disappear while they were out together and then the next day have the temerity to accuse her of being the one to abscond.
Then there is 26 year-old Dawn Spinner Davis who when her private-wealth manager boyfriend lost his job and became so distraught that he stopped playing golf, which had been his passion, and there was fear that he wouldn’t live to reach his 35th birthday, she cried out to the sympathetic members of DABA that “This is not what I signed up for!”
These are women who had wealthy boyfriends or spouses who would leave them alone with credit cards while they were out there making a killing. Now they are forced to live more modestly, not only having to forego dinners at Masa or Megu, but in many cases those credit cards have been maxed out or, worse, cancelled.
Their sex lives, too, they report, have also taken a beating. Some are being pressed to have sex every day so their boyfriends can relieve work-related tension (these seem often to be guys who can no longer afford their mistresses), and in other cases sex once a week or once a month has become the new norm.
Thus the new organization and its accompanying blog site, which invites women to join “if your monthly Bergdorf’s allowance has been halved and bottle service has all but disappeared from your life.”
When they meet in person, usually Sex And the City-style, at a bar or restaurant, they follow their own unique 3-step version of a 12-step program—Step 1: Slip into a dress and heels; Step 2: Sip a cocktail and wait your turn to talk; Step 3: Pour your heart out. Repeat as needed.
Just as I was chortling my way through the article, thinking how shallow and regressive these women feel, so 1950s in their expectations and values, and thus enjoying reading about their fall from well-kept Stepfordness, I caught myself unexpectedly feeling a little sad for them.
It’s really rough out there. Not just for the people I meet down here in Florida who are struggling to hold onto condos and relationships by working three or four part-time jobs. It’s also brutal for the private wealth managers and corporate real estate investors and their wives and girlfriends.
Sure they’ve been over-indulged and sound so superficial, but at least they appear to have retained their sense of humor. You’ve got to admit their 3-step program is pretty droll.
It was pointed out to me by a relative who suggested it was a good piece of schadenfreude, knowing that I have an occasional, difficult-to-overcome, appetite for learning about and enjoying the troubles of the overprivileged.
The piece reports about a support group, Dating a Banker Anonymous, formed by young women to help them cope with the relationship fallout that is a consequence of the collapse of the Wall Street economy.
Here’s Christine Cameron’s not-so-anonymous story: She was dating a financial analyst who after losing his job would get drunk and disappear while they were out together and then the next day have the temerity to accuse her of being the one to abscond.
Then there is 26 year-old Dawn Spinner Davis who when her private-wealth manager boyfriend lost his job and became so distraught that he stopped playing golf, which had been his passion, and there was fear that he wouldn’t live to reach his 35th birthday, she cried out to the sympathetic members of DABA that “This is not what I signed up for!”
These are women who had wealthy boyfriends or spouses who would leave them alone with credit cards while they were out there making a killing. Now they are forced to live more modestly, not only having to forego dinners at Masa or Megu, but in many cases those credit cards have been maxed out or, worse, cancelled.
Their sex lives, too, they report, have also taken a beating. Some are being pressed to have sex every day so their boyfriends can relieve work-related tension (these seem often to be guys who can no longer afford their mistresses), and in other cases sex once a week or once a month has become the new norm.
Thus the new organization and its accompanying blog site, which invites women to join “if your monthly Bergdorf’s allowance has been halved and bottle service has all but disappeared from your life.”
When they meet in person, usually Sex And the City-style, at a bar or restaurant, they follow their own unique 3-step version of a 12-step program—Step 1: Slip into a dress and heels; Step 2: Sip a cocktail and wait your turn to talk; Step 3: Pour your heart out. Repeat as needed.
Just as I was chortling my way through the article, thinking how shallow and regressive these women feel, so 1950s in their expectations and values, and thus enjoying reading about their fall from well-kept Stepfordness, I caught myself unexpectedly feeling a little sad for them.
It’s really rough out there. Not just for the people I meet down here in Florida who are struggling to hold onto condos and relationships by working three or four part-time jobs. It’s also brutal for the private wealth managers and corporate real estate investors and their wives and girlfriends.
Sure they’ve been over-indulged and sound so superficial, but at least they appear to have retained their sense of humor. You’ve got to admit their 3-step program is pretty droll.
posted by Steven Zwerling at
10:03 AM
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