Did you see the “finance guy” at Glastonbury? No, he wasn’t one of the DJs. He was instead an imaginary, idealised figure who loomed large over the festival – on flags that bore the words “LOOKING FOR A MAN IN FINANCE”, as well as via the phones of numerous attendees, who blasted out clips of a viral musical number celebrating him and his kind.

你在格拉斯頓伯里音樂節(jié)上有沒有看到那個(gè)“金融男”？他不是DJ，而是一個(gè)理想化的虛構(gòu)人物。他出現(xiàn)在許多旗幟上，上面寫著“尋找金融男”，還有不少參與者的手機(jī)上播放著慶祝他的洗腦式音樂片段。

If none of this is ringing a bell, allow us to introduce you to a TikTok video created by performer Megan Boni, which carries the refrain: “I’m looking for a man in finance / Trust fund, six five, blue eyes.” Over the past couple of months, the 19-second clip has racked up more than 50 million views and thousands of comments. And across the internet, people tapping into the trend have declared that they too would like a partner who fits this bill. But where is this man? And why is everyone desperately looking for him? And even though it’s all fairly tongue in cheek, what does his sheer omnipotence say about the sorry state of modern dating?

如果你對(duì)這些沒有印象，那么讓我們?yōu)槟憬榻B一下由表演者梅根·博尼創(chuàng)作的一段TikTok視頻，其中的副歌是：“我在尋找一個(gè)金融男 / 信托基金，身高六尺五，藍(lán)眼睛?！痹谶^去的幾個(gè)月里，這段19秒的視頻已經(jīng)收獲了超過5000萬次觀看和成千上萬的評(píng)論。在互聯(lián)網(wǎng)上，許多人跟風(fēng)參與這個(gè)潮流，并宣稱他們也想要一個(gè)符合這些條件的伴侶。但是，這個(gè)男人在哪里？為什么大家都在拼命尋找他？盡管這只是開玩笑，但他無處不在的現(xiàn)象反映了現(xiàn)代約會(huì)的糟糕現(xiàn)狀嗎？
原創(chuàng)翻譯：龍騰網(wǎng) http://www.top-shui.cn 轉(zhuǎn)載請(qǐng)注明出處


Much has been made of the fact that the likelihood of finding a man with such specificities is not particularly high. According to calculations made by Rae Hodge, a Los Angeles-based corporate strategy director, there are just two men in the US who fit this descxtion. That’s after you’ve considered the number of men who work in finance (1.7 million men in the US), have a trust fund (1.2 per cent of Americans), are 6ft 5in (0.1 per cent of men in the US), have blue eyes (27 per cent of men in the US), and of whether they’re single or not.

很多人都指出，要找到一個(gè)符合如此具體條件的男人幾率并不高。根據(jù)洛杉磯企業(yè)戰(zhàn)略總監(jiān)雷·霍奇的計(jì)算，美國(guó)只有兩個(gè)男人符合這個(gè)描述。這是基于以下因素得出的結(jié)論：在美國(guó)從事金融行業(yè)的男性數(shù)量（170萬），擁有信托基金的比例（1.2%的美國(guó)人），身高六尺五的比例（0.1%的美國(guó)男性），有藍(lán)眼睛的比例（27%的美國(guó)男性），以及他們是否單身。

But that isn’t stopping people from pining, and openly shifting their priorities when it comes to looking for love. Because romance is fun and all, but it’s not going to pay your water bill. Unlike other viral memes, the “finance guy” isn’t just another silly social media trend; it’s one that reflects a deeper seismic shift within a society plagued by economic collapse, political uncertainty, and an ongoing cost of living crisis. With all this in mind, it’s no wonder single people are deciding to forgo love in favour of finances. Or at least prioritise wealth above other, more meaningful, factors.

但這并沒有阻止人們渴望找到這樣的人，并在尋找愛情時(shí)公開改變自己的優(yōu)先事項(xiàng)。因?yàn)槔寺倘挥腥ぃ粫?huì)幫你支付水費(fèi)。與其他病毒式傳播的網(wǎng)絡(luò)迷因不同，“金融男”不僅僅是另一個(gè)沙雕的社交媒體趨勢(shì)；它反映了一個(gè)經(jīng)濟(jì)崩潰、政治不確定性和持續(xù)的生活成本上漲困擾的社會(huì)中更深層次的顛覆性轉(zhuǎn)變。在這種背景下，單身人士決定放棄愛情而追求財(cái)務(wù)也就不足為奇了?；蛘咧辽賹⒇?cái)富優(yōu)先于其他更有意義的因素。

Just a few years ago, it would’ve been considered gauche and tacky to even mention money when talking about your dating life. Now, it’s completely normal. Among my single friends, many are shameless about wanting to settle down with a wealthy partner. “Ideally, you want someone from generational wealth so you know that money isn’t going anywhere,” one told me over dinner recently. Others are quick to use first dates as a chance to ask questions about housing and career trajectories to get a sense of someone’s earnings – and swiftly abandon ship if someone doesn’t meet their expectations.

就在幾年前，談?wù)摷s會(huì)生活時(shí)提到錢還會(huì)被認(rèn)為是粗俗和俗氣的行為。而現(xiàn)在，這完全變得正常。在我單身的朋友中，許多人毫不掩飾地希望能和一個(gè)富有的伴侶安定下來。最近，一位朋友在晚餐時(shí)告訴我：“理想情況下，你希望對(duì)方來自富貴世家，這樣錢就用之不盡。”其他人則在第一次約會(huì)時(shí)迅速抓住機(jī)會(huì)，詢問有關(guān)住房和職業(yè)前景的問題，以了解對(duì)方的收入情況——如果對(duì)方不符合他們的期望，他們就會(huì)迅速離開。

Personally, I still find the subject icky, and resent the idea of feeling financially dependent on a partner. But I can understand why, given the current climate, many of us are “l(fā)ooking for a man in finance”, so to speak. The modern world isn’t built for single people, least of all single women. Whether it’s paying taxes or doing your supermarket shop, literally everything is easier when it’s split between two people. I know plenty of couples who’ve sped up the progression of their relationship in order to move in together to save money on rent, sometimes to their detriment.

就我個(gè)人而言，我仍然覺得這個(gè)話題令人討厭，并對(duì)在經(jīng)濟(jì)上依賴伴侶的想法深惡痛絕。但我也能理解為什么在當(dāng)前的環(huán)境下，我們中的許多人都在 "尋找金融業(yè)的男人"?，F(xiàn)代社會(huì)并不是為單身人士打造的，尤其是單身女性。無論是繳稅還是在超市購物，如果由兩個(gè)人分擔(dān)，一切都會(huì)變得簡(jiǎn)單。我認(rèn)識(shí)很多情侶，他們?yōu)榱耸》孔獍岬揭黄鹱?，加快了關(guān)系發(fā)展的速度，有時(shí)這對(duì)他們也是不利的。

All things considered, then, is marrying for money really that bad? It’s what people used to do, of course. And even though society has come on leaps and bounds in terms of equality, there are evidently still many hurdles holding women back from being able to achieve the same financial milestones as men. The gender pay gap has not yet been closed – according to the Office for National Statistics (ONS), median pay for all employees was 14.3 per cent less for women than for men in April 2023. Meanwhile, a study by the Fawcett Society and Total Jobs from last year found that roughly 250,000 mothers with young children have left their jobs over struggles with balancing work and childcare. And on top of this, a recent report compiled by the Women’s Budget Group found that women need more than 12 times their annual salaries to be able to buy a home in England, while men need just over eight times.

綜上所述，為錢而結(jié)婚真的那么糟糕嗎？畢竟，這是人們?cè)?jīng)習(xí)以為常的事。盡管在平等方面社會(huì)已經(jīng)取得了巨大的進(jìn)步，但顯然仍有許多障礙阻礙女性達(dá)到與男性相同的財(cái)務(wù)里程碑。性別薪酬差距尚未消除——根據(jù)國(guó)家統(tǒng)計(jì)局（ONS）的數(shù)據(jù)，2023年4月，所有員工的中位數(shù)薪酬女性比男性低14.3%。同時(shí)，去年由福西特協(xié)會(huì)和Total Jobs進(jìn)行的一項(xiàng)研究發(fā)現(xiàn)，約有25萬名有幼兒的母親因難以平衡工作和育兒而離職。此外，女性預(yù)算小組編制的最新報(bào)告發(fā)現(xiàn)，女性需要超過年薪的12倍以上才能在英格蘭買房，而男性只需要年薪的8倍多一點(diǎn)。

This brings me back to the finance guy. His popularity is ironic, really, when you consider how deeply uncool working in finance has always been, at least in the sense that it puts you firmly outside the zeitgeist. Revealing yourself to work in the industry was always preceded by some sort of apology, or a self-deprecating explanation. Now it seems that no such preamble is necessary. If you work in finance, you’re currently the hottest property on the dating market. Height and blue eyes are just arbitrary bonuses.

這讓我想起了金融男。從某種意義上來說，考慮到金融行業(yè)一直以來在文化潮流中并不受歡迎，他的受歡迎程度實(shí)際上是具有諷刺意味的。以前，透露自己從事金融工作常常需要先作出某種形式的道歉或自嘲式的解釋。現(xiàn)在似乎不再需要這樣的前言了。如果你在金融領(lǐng)域工作，你目前就是約會(huì)市場(chǎng)上最搶手的對(duì)象。身高和藍(lán)眼睛只是額外的隨機(jī)加分選項(xiàng)而已。


But this is bigger than the finance guy, and speaks to a sea change in how we talk about dating online. In recent months, there has been a surge in viral videos in which women pontificate about the benefits of marrying rich men, and “teaching” their followers how to find one. The most prolific of these women is Texas-based YouTuber Leticia Padua, known online as Shera Seven. She regularly posts videos urging women to marry for money, and advising against becoming “Bob the Builder chicks” – who invest too much energy emotionally supporting male partners and offering to split bills with them. Elsewhere, there’s TikToker Mimi Shou, who built her platform by sharing stories of pursuing finance guys in New York.

但這不僅僅是關(guān)于金融男的問題，它反映了我們?nèi)绾卧诰W(wǎng)上談?wù)摷s會(huì)方式的巨大變化。近幾個(gè)月來，出現(xiàn)了大量病毒式視頻，女性在其中詳細(xì)討論嫁給富有男士的好處，并“教導(dǎo)”她們的追隨者如何找到這樣的對(duì)象。其中最活躍的一位是德克薩斯州的YouTuber萊蒂西婭·帕杜亞（Leticia Padua），在網(wǎng)上被稱為Shera Seven。她經(jīng)常發(fā)布視頻敦促女性為了金錢而結(jié)婚，并建議不要成為“鮑勃建筑工女郎”——他們?cè)谇楦猩蠟槟行园閭H提供過多支持，并主動(dòng)提出分擔(dān)賬單。另外還有TikToker米米·壽（Mimi Shou），她通過分享在紐約追求金融男士的經(jīng)歷建立了自己的平臺(tái)。

Then there’s the rising “trad wife” movement. Short for “traditional wives”, the term denotes women reverting to housewife roles akin to the 1950s. They cook and clean while their husbands are out at work and spend days taking care of their children, doing it all with so much Valencia-filtered vim that their videos rack up millions of views around the globe.

還有正在興起的“傳統(tǒng)妻子”運(yùn)動(dòng)。這個(gè)術(shù)語指的是女性回歸到類似于1950年代的家庭主婦角色。她們?cè)谡煞蛲獬龉ぷ鲿r(shí)負(fù)責(zé)做飯、打掃衛(wèi)生，并且整天照顧孩子，這些活動(dòng)都被她們以濾鏡加工過的視頻形式展示，吸引了全球數(shù)百萬次觀看。

Have we gone back in time? Or have we just reverted to archaic ideals out of sheer desperation? I suspect it’s the latter. And while I’m still too much of a hopeless romantic to get sucked in, I can see the appeal. Because let’s face it, times are tough in 2024. Perhaps for a lot of people, the idea of marrying for money is not old-fashioned at all. Nor is it even uncouth. It’s just necessary. So necessary, in fact, that people are willing to walk around a music festival holding flags in pursuit of a rich man. Whether or not the flags were successful, we’ll never know. But at least all the 6ft 5in men will have been tall enough to spot them.

我們是在倒退回過去嗎？還是出于徹底絕望而恢復(fù)了過時(shí)的理念？我傾向于后者。雖然我仍然是一個(gè)不折不扣的浪漫主義者，不會(huì)被吸引進(jìn)去，但我能理解其吸引力所在。因?yàn)樽屛覀兠鎸?duì)現(xiàn)實(shí)吧，在2024年，生活確實(shí)很艱難。也許對(duì)很多人來說，為了金錢而結(jié)婚根本不算老派，甚至也不算粗俗，而是必要的。實(shí)際上，這種需求如此迫切，以至于人們?cè)敢庠谝魳饭?jié)上揮舞旗幟追求富有的男人。無論這些旗幟是否成功，我們永遠(yuǎn)不會(huì)知道。但至少所有那些身高六尺五的男人肯定足夠高大，能夠看到這些旗幟。

原創(chuàng)翻譯：龍騰網(wǎng) http://www.top-shui.cn 轉(zhuǎn)載請(qǐng)注明出處