Which, ok if we mean: screwing a friend’s/aide’s/employee’s wife (who is also your appointments secretary), fair enough, but…
“The man code”?
If you’re late to this SF party—national implications here, baby, our fair (oh, so fair) Mayor Gavin Newsom was looking good as gov, even prez down the line—the deal is this:
Fifteen months ago, Gavin Newsom, while getting a divorce from Court TV anchor wife Kimberly Guilfoyle (then) Newsom had an affair with the wife of his campaign manager, Alex Tourk. (Worth pointing out Kimberly was also cheating on Gavin at the time. Also worth noting Ruby Rippey-Tourk was his employee.) Tourk’s wife recently told him as part of her 12-step mea culpa. Yesterday Tourk angrily confronts Gavin in what seems like was a fairly public place in City Hall, and resigns. Gavin gives ashen-faced press conference admitting Tourk’s allegations are true. Which, evidently, everybody knew long before Tourk.
My favorite moment in this thus far is the double whammy of:
Tourk was architect and/or “make it happen” person behind Gavin’s Care Not Cash (and its various iterations) homeless program. Which is a cornerstone of Gavin’s play for higher office.
Tourk—major fundraiser, deputy mayor, good friend, and guy whose wife is being schutpped—was only being paid $50,000 for the priviledge, according to the San Francisco Chronicle.
Ignore “the man factor.” The thing that Gavin has to worry about is people like me, and all the other 30-40 something women in our office and around the city/state/country. We like Gavin. We think Gavin’s cute. But we think Gavin has tacky-ass taste/judgement when it comes to women (and hair gel). Of late, before this latest scandal, there was the “dating the underage Sonoma County State Woman” (I might really get away with saying: Girl. Also catty of me, but: her name is Brittanie!). And before that there was the “dating the CSI spinoff Scientologist, I Didn’t Know She Was a Scientologist, and Anyway There’s Nothing Wrong With Their Position on Mental Health Care, and What Does that Have to Do With Homelessness, Anyway” blip.
Gavin, baby, there are a whole bunch of relatively age-appropriate, french-tipped, strappy sandaled, overly streaked women in the Marina district. Who are single! I went to my first Marina party ever the other day, and honest to god, they were all talking about you. It shouldn’t be that hard to steer clear of some obvious pitfalls.
Because the thing is, deep down we, the less groomed women of this world, and other smart voters suspect this: You’re probably just a frat boy. A frat boy whose progressive politics are an accident of geography. Such politics are what it takes to be popular in these parts. Hell, supporting gay marriage probably helped you get laid. Maybe a lot.
And the more your actions indicate that this suspicion might be true, the less you play to us, your base, and others whom you claim not to be courting in a bid for statewide/national office but whom we all know that you are.
So there. You want to go to DC, even 1600? You can be single. You can play the field. Just wise up. Just a little.
And maybe get a dog.
