Financial crisis inspires vapid, gold-digging whores to birth whiny website about perils of vapid, gold-digging whoredom

(From left, Dawn Spinner Davis, Christine Cameron, Laney Crowell, Alexandra Pennington and Megan Petrus, members of Dating a Banker Anonymous.)

As a few of you may recall, in December of 2007 I created a minor ruckus when I posted a fake Craigslist ad posing as a young, recently single, Goldman banker with a fat bonus and a cock "like a baby's arm" looking for someone to lavish with money and gifts during the holidays in exchange for, well, a vagina to fuck. The responses flowed in by the hundreds over the next few days as the ad was circulated around the Internet and reported on in the "mainstream media." In the ad, I created a character who was about as big of a loathsome jackass as a loathsome jackass can be without becoming a complete cartoon character, yet the sheer mass of ladies seeking to curry favor with such a twatwaffle just to score a rich boyfriend was startling. This wasn't exactly a new revelation to me, as it's hard not to notice the power that money has in the way of attracting women living in the financial center of the world, but still, it was somewhat shocking. And I'd be lying if I were to sit here and tried to deny that it'd didn't effect my view of women in New York City, because it did. I became much more cynical and hardened of heart. Again, I'd be a liar if I said that it didn't. And I defy any guy to read through the emails that I received, many of them sent from corporate email addresses with full contact information available in their signatures (I mean, they didn't even think to reply anonymously!), and not be at least a little bit altered.

So it probably goes without saying that I felt overcome with a little twinge of glee earlier today when I read a piece in today's New York Times titled, It's the Economy, Girlfriend, about a group of despondent banker-loving broads, one of which I happen to know, who have started a website called "Dating a Banker Anonymous" as a sort of group therapy session to cry over the wretched turn their fabulous lives have taken since the financial markets have went into the shitter...

In addition to meeting once or twice weekly for brunch or drinks at a bar or restaurant, the group has a blog, billed as “free from the scrutiny of feminists,” that invites women to join “if your monthly Bergdorf’s allowance has been halved and bottle service has all but disappeared from your life.”

Theirs is not the typical 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.

About 30 women, generally in their mid- to late-20s, regularly post to the Web site or attend meetings.

If that's not enough to make your heart break, try this...

Once it was seen as a blessing in certain circles to have a wealthy, powerful partner who would leave you alone with the credit card while he was busy brokering deals. Now, many Wall Street wives, girlfriends and, increasingly, exes, are living the curse of cutbacks in nanny hours and reservations at Masa or Megu. And that credit card? Canceled.

Raoul Felder, the Manhattan divorce lawyer, said that cases involving financiers always stack up as the economy starts to slip, because layoffs and shrinking bonuses place stress on relationships — and, he said, because “there aren’t funds or time for mistresses any more.”

(One such mistress wrote on the blog that when she pouted about not having been taken on a trip lately, her married man explained that with money so tight, his wife had taken to checking up on his accounts.)

Out of curiosity, I took a look at the "DABA" blog to sort of revel in it's misery. One post titled "Good 'Ol Days" was particularly heart-warming...

Remember when together you and your (banker boyfriend) felt like you could conquer the world? It was great to be in New York, in love, and young (FYI non-New York readers, Young = under 40). There was nothing you two couldn’t do. No velvet rope that couldn’t be lifted, no secret handshake you weren’t privy to. Together the two of you were going to ascend the corporate ladder and then, after you had stashed away enough cash, you would turn your attention towards more philanthropic and artistic pursuits. Libraries and universities would bear your surname. You were going to be the Carnegies and Rockefellers of the new millennium…But those were the aspirations of BR. Dares’t we now dream of more than a brownstone in Park Slope, Brooklyn?

I hate to do this but I. Just. Can't. Help. Myself.....HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Welcome to the real world assholes. Deal with it.

And for the perspective of a young girl living in Manhattan who finds herself quite revolted by vapid golddigging, check out this post on the new lady blog selfabsorbed.me.