Dating a Banker Anonymous-DABA's now have their own support group online.
http://dabagirls.com/
Check out some of their posts:
...OK I’m not in my 30’s I’m in my 40’s, so me and my banker have a lot to lose - the apartment with private roof deck, 2 kids, opera tickets, the wine club. We agreed to pretend nothing would change (though we wouldn’t do anything lavish - we stayed in Manhattan for Christmas and finally saw the Nutcracker, for example) until he got his number in January, and then we’d adjust, whatever.
Number is in and it’s a 75% cut, ladies. We’re looking at just enough money to make our mortgage payments, paying none of the principle down. So we aren’t going to lose the house yet, but we aren’t going to think about THAT until NEXT January. Meanwhile: My own dinky-by comparison salary, which had been my own since I went back to work so I could have the company of grownups, is no longer my own. It all will be spent on family expenses. The sitter’s hours are cut, both the family and my private credit card are cut in half, and I’m switching from having my facials and massages in my earthy, yoga-and-wine serving downtown spa to a midtown been-in-business-forever place with ladies in cubbies wearing pink jackets and lots of make-up giving facials only. I know, I know, only old people and gay men go there these days, but congested skin isn’t an alternative for me, so I have to go someplace. I’ll do it once every 6 weeks instead of monthly, and it is 1/3 the price of the facials at the spa. And I remember from the 80’s that they do a good job.
It gets worse. I’ll now be doing my pilates with others, in class, on the mat instead of on the machines with my private instructor. This truly frightens me. I could hurt myself competing with you 20-30 yr-olds. Private was so much less humiliating....
...Thanks to the recession, I now have a completely devoted BF, which is exactly what I wanted. So I should be happy, right? Wrong. I’m bored and can’t stop thinking about my perpetually unattainable Euro ex-boyfriend who is recession proof courtesy of an offshore trust account. To be honest, I’m only with my BF because I just don’t have the heart to change my facebook status from “in a relationship” to “I ain’t saying I’m a gold digger, but I ain’t messin’ with no broke banker...
....Suddenly, I found myself being taken out less and less frequently. A recent argument went along these lines:
Me *pouting*: You haven’t taken me on a trip since we went to Bermuda in September. What’s going on?
Charles: Honey, finances are tight right now so my wife has taken it upon herself to check up on all of our accounts. She will notice any big expenditures.
Me *cute voice*: Wellllllllllllll, what are you going to do to make it up to me?
Charles: Can we talk later sweetheart? I’m really busy right now.
Me: No. Give me an answer NOW. Don’t you realize what you have? I’m way too hot to be treated like this. (Disclaimer: Yes, I come across as bratty here, but it typically works when trying to get something out of him)
Charles *yelling for the first time in our almost two-year relationship*: I’VE GOT TO FIRE TWENTY PEOPLE BY THE END OF THE WEEK. Z has four kids, X just had a baby girl, Y just sent his son to college and I’ve got to get rid of two of those guys… and you’re complaining about vacations and dinner? God, you are so 24! GROW UP!
Me *stunned*: Okie dokie, let’s talk later lover.
He apologized a few hours later. He promised my age was one of the things that endears me to him the most, but that I just don’t understand the tremendous amounts of pressure he is under right now. Fair enough. But damn, it’s tough to date a banker, even for the girl on the side...
Read them and you'll understand why these bankers think they deserve their bonuses!
http://dabagirls.com/
Check out some of their posts:
...OK I’m not in my 30’s I’m in my 40’s, so me and my banker have a lot to lose - the apartment with private roof deck, 2 kids, opera tickets, the wine club. We agreed to pretend nothing would change (though we wouldn’t do anything lavish - we stayed in Manhattan for Christmas and finally saw the Nutcracker, for example) until he got his number in January, and then we’d adjust, whatever.
Number is in and it’s a 75% cut, ladies. We’re looking at just enough money to make our mortgage payments, paying none of the principle down. So we aren’t going to lose the house yet, but we aren’t going to think about THAT until NEXT January. Meanwhile: My own dinky-by comparison salary, which had been my own since I went back to work so I could have the company of grownups, is no longer my own. It all will be spent on family expenses. The sitter’s hours are cut, both the family and my private credit card are cut in half, and I’m switching from having my facials and massages in my earthy, yoga-and-wine serving downtown spa to a midtown been-in-business-forever place with ladies in cubbies wearing pink jackets and lots of make-up giving facials only. I know, I know, only old people and gay men go there these days, but congested skin isn’t an alternative for me, so I have to go someplace. I’ll do it once every 6 weeks instead of monthly, and it is 1/3 the price of the facials at the spa. And I remember from the 80’s that they do a good job.
It gets worse. I’ll now be doing my pilates with others, in class, on the mat instead of on the machines with my private instructor. This truly frightens me. I could hurt myself competing with you 20-30 yr-olds. Private was so much less humiliating....
...Thanks to the recession, I now have a completely devoted BF, which is exactly what I wanted. So I should be happy, right? Wrong. I’m bored and can’t stop thinking about my perpetually unattainable Euro ex-boyfriend who is recession proof courtesy of an offshore trust account. To be honest, I’m only with my BF because I just don’t have the heart to change my facebook status from “in a relationship” to “I ain’t saying I’m a gold digger, but I ain’t messin’ with no broke banker...
....Suddenly, I found myself being taken out less and less frequently. A recent argument went along these lines:
Me *pouting*: You haven’t taken me on a trip since we went to Bermuda in September. What’s going on?
Charles: Honey, finances are tight right now so my wife has taken it upon herself to check up on all of our accounts. She will notice any big expenditures.
Me *cute voice*: Wellllllllllllll, what are you going to do to make it up to me?
Charles: Can we talk later sweetheart? I’m really busy right now.
Me: No. Give me an answer NOW. Don’t you realize what you have? I’m way too hot to be treated like this. (Disclaimer: Yes, I come across as bratty here, but it typically works when trying to get something out of him)
Charles *yelling for the first time in our almost two-year relationship*: I’VE GOT TO FIRE TWENTY PEOPLE BY THE END OF THE WEEK. Z has four kids, X just had a baby girl, Y just sent his son to college and I’ve got to get rid of two of those guys… and you’re complaining about vacations and dinner? God, you are so 24! GROW UP!
Me *stunned*: Okie dokie, let’s talk later lover.
He apologized a few hours later. He promised my age was one of the things that endears me to him the most, but that I just don’t understand the tremendous amounts of pressure he is under right now. Fair enough. But damn, it’s tough to date a banker, even for the girl on the side...
Read them and you'll understand why these bankers think they deserve their bonuses!
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