Dating: Men of the Volatile Markets

Lawyers and bankers and accountants! Oh, my! Lawyers and bankers and accountants! Oh, my! As I stroll down the yellow brick road on the way to romance and true love (and let's not kid ourselves, a ring), I'm beginning to feel more and more like Dorothy.

Yes, true, adventures are fun. The thrills of penthouse parties and members clubs in Mayfair still echo from the winter party season, not to mention the ridiculous amount of pink Laurent-Perrier consumed and the ensuing feats that are best left unremembered (though unremembered fondly).

But as the new year begins, I find myself trading a handful of high fliers for one nice, down-to-earth guy that makes me tea when I cough and takes me to fun rather than flashy places. Great, huh?

Sounds like I have returned from my adventures in Oz to a nice comfy home and Aunty Em. But there's a little problem: like a child that comes across a dozing furry creature and proceeds to prod the poor animal with a stick, I find myself trying to awaken poor dear Aunty Em from a contented slumber.

So he doesn't run a hedge fund - but then it's not like everybody does. This warped sense of reality in the City seems to dictate that golden boys work for Goldman, PWC or Clifford Chance.

But why is it they seem to have an edge? A confidence and charm that ozzes sophistication and an on-the-ball, bring-it-on attitude that says this city's a jungle and me Tarzan. You don't need to poke them, just sedate them sometimes.

A year ago, my cousin (total Type A over-achiever, tall, thin, gorgeous, got a world-renowned PhD at the age people are usually doing their undergrad) got married - and not to the cool cad she was dating during uni and broke her heart - but to a nice IT guy who was burly yet sensitive and had a nice solid career ahead of him in a major company.


The first guy was cheeky and youthful, on-the-ball and totally intelligent. With dishevelled brown hair and clever remarks, he was charming and gorgeous. They were both at uni (so he didn't have a 'job' unless, tending bar counts). But he was definitely cool and much more attractive. It didn't work out, so she married IT boy, who made her feel 'safe'.

But then I feel she did what my co-worker once told me to do when I moaned about being single, and perhaps what I'm afraid to admit to myself that I'm doing now:

"Just do what we all do", he said. "Lower your standards."

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