I was talking Jerry Brown vs Meg Whitman with a partner candidate the other day. This is a guy, let’s call him Tom, I’ve been talking to for maybe a year. We’ve met up a few times to discuss the market, and have established a rapport. I gave Tom some advice a year ago which at the time seemed opportunistic, which of course it was, and now, because of various developments, has been proven accurate, which of course it was as well.

I don’t go out on shaky limbs – most of the time.

So anyway, Tom is aware of my lapsed Dem status (registered I in 09) and has told me that while he remains D, he’s anti-Obamacare and generally concerned with the levels of spending going on, but like me he’s a social liberal. Tom has said that politicians like Michael Bloomberg, social lefties with strong business backgrounds, are ideal.

So, you’d think he would support Meg Whitman, right? I mean, Brown’s website says nothing about an economic plan in a going-bankrupt state. Whitman has a specific plan and has had successful executive experience, whereas Moonbeam’s stewardship of CA in the 70s and Oakland some twenty years later had mixed success at best from an economic point of view. In 2008, the First Amendment Coalition requested access to Brown's gubernatorial records; however, he had them sealed for fifty years.

And Whitman's farther to the left than Obama, whom Tom supported, on choice. She supports public funding for abortion.

Instead, Tom said “I just don’t like her throwing her millions at the election. It’s seamy.”

Somehow, he’d missed where Bloomberg spent hundreds of millions on his own campaign. And Michael is part of a big, white wealthy male club, in that regard.

What is it about women and money? Or, to be more precise, women making money.

I’ve had a similar experience in talking about the Vegas gig with men who are friends or more.

There was only one time, while at the Magic Carpet, that I’ve left the club with a customer. It was during a busy Saturday night. I was a little anxious because it was the weekend I’d invited Tamora to join me working in Vegas, and helping her get the MC gig had eaten out a chunk of the night. Walking out of the locker room, I saw two people I knew from Gold’s Gym – Jim and Nancy. Jim was a gastroenterologist from [beach city] and Nancy a nurse. They were both in my spinning class and we had been part of a dinner group on a couple of occasions. When I first met them, I thought how typical they were of the west coast – blond, tanned, wearing body-conscious clothing. I hadn’t known they were dating.

Long story short, after I got over the shock of the real life intrusion, and it became clear that the trip was in honor of Nancy’s twenty-fifth birthday. I gave her a birthday dance. Then, Jim confided that he and Nancy had always wanted to spend time with another woman, and would I be interested.

Well, I’d never left the club with a customer and wasn’t interested in women – though after the experience of doing double dances at the club, I didn’t find anything offensive about it. But there was no way I was going past second base with Jim. He assured me that this was more for Nancy.

Then there was the matter of opportunity cost. I had just gotten started for the evening and was religious about meeting my goal every night. Jim said he would double it.

Ultimately, the encounter with Nancy and Jim started great and ended horribly. We had cocktails at the Mirage’s membership-only lounge, had a brief exchange about Russian literature – Nancy had recently acted in a Checkov play. It was all so civilized. Jim put a discreet envelope into my purse. But later, it was clear Jim felt the rules he and I negotiated (and, apparently, were important for Nancy as well) could be bent. He understood no meant no. But the question shouldn’t have been asked, and it all ended badly.

When Jim later called and wanted to have dinner, I had such a bad taste in my mouth that I switched my gym membership to Spectrum.

Sometime after this, I shared the story with a male friend, Julian. Someone whom I’d gotten to know in work circles and who I knew wasn’t auditioning for sainthood.

His reaction? “I think that crossed a line.”

Really? How?

Now, granted, it’s something I never did again. Leaving the club with a customer, even one I knew. But not because I’d felt unsafe, or because it violated the golden rule. Just because the experience had demonstrated what many first-time experiences do – there shouldn’t be a second time.

I never had another threesome. It wasn’t something I’d felt anything more than agnostic, at the very best, about.

But many people do things that are more hurtful to others than this originally seemed to be, and more risky – without others sitting in judgment.

I'm not claiming to be above any judgment. I've done things I regret, and probably will again.

And hearing that comment from a friend -- it was tough. His opinion was important to me. Should I question my morals, or my judgment? Had I put myself out on some kind of limb where good, decent people just didn't go?

But I had to conclude that the “over the line” comment was because money was involved. Somehow, the importance to me of making my daily goal, and my ability to enforce that, was the culprit. Had this been a simple threesome story, with three people who’d known each other for months, I can’t imagine any eyebrows would have been raised.

Clearly, Julian’s verdict was that I was a whore. A good liberal, most of the time, he most likely had no issues with two girls, or even another guy being there. But money being thrown around? Seamy.

It would have been OK, maybe more than OK, for me to have given in to some kind of sexual impulse. But the injection of furthering the goal of my own independence turned it into something else. If Jim had gotten me a fancy gift afterwards, without my negotiating such a thing, I am sure Julian wouldn’t have found that problematic.

And I’m also sure Julian would have left strip clubs with women had the opportunity presented itself – and maybe it had. Thereby invalidating any safety concerns he could have had despite my knowing the two customers well.

Tom didn’t voice issues with Pelosi or Feinstein spending their husbands' money. He admitted to voting for George W once – someone, clearly, who had financial coat tails to ride on – as well as a number of male politicians throwing their own money around.

Is there a connection here? It’s not about what’s being done, per se, but about a woman doing it while wielding financial power of her own?

Julian would never admit that. He sees himself as a feminist, kind of– up to the point where it’s cool to be one. Tom, as well.

And to be fair, they are probably articulating what a lot of guys think. Probably some women as well.

Ultimately when the chips are down, though, and even when they’re up, I don’t need my decisions or my political candidates to be Tom- or Julian-approved. When you’re in that booth pulling the lever, you have to do what’s right for your own life. Ultimately, the steward of that ship has only one boss.