Associate Advice, Money, Romance and Dating, Women's Issues

In Defense of Tommy, Who Used to Work on the Docks

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In the comments to Elie’s Sugar Mama post from yesterday, which chronicles the woes of a female Biglaw associate who is being harassed by coworkers for affiancing (KABLAM: Princeton Review Hit Parade) a Starbucks barista “peasant,” Bonobo_Bro wrote:

Not bad big guy (other than the usual typo issues which must be intentional); however, I really think you should’ve handled this pls handle thx style because I’d love to see Marin’s opinion of women with lower income life partners.

Rex and either thirty-six other anonymous internet trolls or one troll logging on from 36 different computers liked this comment. My mandate was clear. The people thirsted for my response…

I don’t really like to talk about my personal personal life on ATL because that’s for me to know and my gynecologist to find out, but I’ll share this story with you.

About a year ago, I briefly dated a bartender. A career bartender. At a dive bar. I caught a lot of grief for it – partly because he was a 47-year-old career bartender and partly because he was kind of a dick – but the experience confirmed my creeping suspicion that there were, in fact, funny and intelligent people who work outside of the corporate world. Insane, right?

Let me present you with some chilling facts. There are 400,000 more women in NYC than men. That divide is far, far greater when you delete the married men, psychopaths, sleazebags, jerkhats, hideous monsters, losers, narcissists, condescending douchebags, D&D nerds, people who smell, etc. Many lawyer and finance dudes fall into these categories, as evidenced by the condescending douchebags who mock this woman for her choice in fiancés. A good man is hard to find, and so us ladies must look both high (banks, law firms, hedge funds, SEC executive comp disclosure filings, etc.) and low (bars, Starbucks, mall kiosks, bike shops, Best Buys, etc).

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Marrying a dude with a gold-plated résumé or an MD job at Goldman matters not a whit if the thought of touching his genitals makes you want to vomit. Money is wonderful, but at the end of the day, happiness is the only thing that matters in relationships. Sometimes happiness in a mate comes with 2400 billable hours. And sometimes it comes with no foam and extra ice.

Finally, as someone who once worked in the restaurant industry, I have a word of advice to asshat co-workers everywhere: do not insult the people who prepare your food. They hold great power.

Earlier: Advice for ‘Sugar-Mama’ Attorneys and Their Low-Income Male Life Partners

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