Dating A Finance Bro Is Paradise

It's a sunny Friday morning as you're walking to your mid-tier BB (think BofA/DB/Citi) summer internship your dad forced you to get, working 80-hour weeks surrounded by old married guys who hit on you while your (top ranked, think KKG/Tri Delt/Aphi) sorority sisters are doing fun things like backpacking across Europe or working in fashion/marketing. You think back to how excited you were when your dad told you it was a group that did sponsorship or something, thinking it was a marketing or social media gig. You assure yourself that this internship will make Chad over at Kap Sig in the top finance club on campus (think Black Diamond/Global Platinum Securities/Harvard Investment Association and Fund) like you more and that you'll kill it come cuffing season when you're back on campus. 

You scoff as you look at your PowerPoint and think about how your associate didn't like the pastel colors you put in and told you to change it to a blue and white palette. God, they don't even understand that I took a class at FIT over the summer and learned all about color theory and optimizing logos along a gradient instead of alphabetical order. You install Sims 4 on your MacBook you used for school (color coordinated with your Stanley tumbler of course) and get to work designing your Montauk aesthetic pilates Range Rover stay at home mom cottage. You fume as you think about Stacy who interns at Prada, fuck the rest of my dumb ass pledge class. They didn't even meet the quota from their Pie a Phi event that the Philanthropy chair set. Fuck those legacies, if my aunt was in Aphi I totally would be on e-board by now. You giggle in prestige as you thought of your situationship's ex being stuck at a bottom-tier sorority (think Zeta/Gamma Phi) while you got mixers with all the top frats.

You see the clock hit 7pm and use your $25 Seamless credit on a Sweetgreen kale salad, you skip the dressing because Fashion Week inspired you to try and lose eight. As you wait, you check your phone and see your friend Mary from your time at Foxcroft (you didn't get into Linden) sent you a text saying how you have to try the Miso Glazed Salmon but you remember that Omega 3 is a fatty acid. Mary naturally has a faster metabolism and her dad paid for an Equinox Hudson Yards membership, so she can burn the calories off on Saturday morning pilates classes.

Feeling dejected, you go to the lobby to pick up your Sweetgreens and go to "work from home". You log off for the night and go home to change and do your hair (you just got a Dyson airwrap from your Apollo VP brother who said that "you're gonna make so much money now that you're in high finance" when you got the internship), before going to NYC's premier underage intern bar - Phebe's. You get in line and notice that half the men in line still have acne. No worries, an analyst in your group told you it's the hottest bar in the city, sort of like PIKE's basement in your college down. You flash a smile at the overweight bouncer and get in with your ID clearly saying you're 19. Usually you'd flirt with the bouncer for a minute or two but you were too tired after a chewing out from your associate after making the background pastel pink again. You go in, hugging the two Aphi girls from Michigan State you met in Fort Lauderdale on spring break.

Time to get some guy to buy you drinks. You try to look around for any studs, but you only see a mass of nerdy interns in suits. After debating whether to make TikToks in the washroom until the bar gets busier, you notice a particularly obnoxious guy talking about how much he loves skiing in the stalls behind you. Your eyes light up and you tap him on the shoulder as you flip your hair, flash a smile and ask if he wants to come to the handicap stall with you. He's pretty ugly though, he must be a quant.

As you follow him, he told you he has no bag and starts trying to hit on you. He asks you a superficial question while his eyes glazes over, then as soon as you finished answering he breaks into a smile and says that he's an investment banker and he works at a secretive boutique. You roll your eyes and tell him that you're at a mid-tier BB but you're going to GS next summer and his smile fades and he starts clenching his jaw. 

You start talking with him further, at first thinking that he's ugly but then remembering that your dad is going to cut off your trust fund once you graduate and you need a man with some money. You think he probably works at M Klein or another top boutique that pays above street (think FT Partners) and decide to play along. You tell him you actually go to a state school (think UMich/Ohio State/Berekely) when he asked "so which hypertarget do you attend?". He starts to blush after saying that he attends one of WHYP (pronouncing it like whip) and then says he runs the best investment club on campus. 

He starts asking you questions like this is a coffee chat, like what your favorite valuation model is and whether you like using P/E or EV/EBITDA more. You blank and tell him nonsense and say you're in Girls Who Invest and he stops asking technicals. He asks you about college and you light up and tell him about how you're the VP of finance in your top sorority and have the second best GPA in the chapter. He kisses you goodnight and then gives you his number, clearly thinking you're interested. You look him up on LinkedIn and saw that he went to Taft, so he can definitely pick up the slack when your trust fund gets cut off. 

The next day, he texts you at 11PM to come over and "watch Netflix" and you wait until 2AM to respond. You continue to go on dates with him and after a few weeks he asks to be your girlfriend.

A few months later he mentions he's looking for a full-time seat, and since he accidentally dropped the fact that his boutique doesn't actually pay above street, you decided to hit up Becca who's dad is a Global Head at GS to get him a job.