Sunday, midnight. I cannot believe the weekend is over and my week starts anew tomorrow. Vegas baby..........San Fran is staying at the nicest hotel I have ever been to, the Hotel Bel Air. Evidently, it is the no. 1 hotel in the country and holds lots of titles. The heavyweight champion in hotels. We walked in, and it was swank as swank can get. Peonies, forsythia, delphinium and cymbidian orchid bouquet in the lobby. HUGE arrangements. Bubbling fountains and statuary in the prolifically blooming gardens which smelled of jasmine and gardenia. There were swans everywhere. Susan Lucci was eating dinner in the restaurant as we walked by. Fois gras stuffed squash blossoms and filet with morels on the room service menu. I felt like trailer trash walking in in my flip flops and my bright red hair up in a clip. Now I know what it is like being Britney. Five people were tripping over themselves to carry his bags, take my car, turn on the TV...unbelievable. Fresh flowers in the room, complimentary tea service. I cannot believe this retarded alcoholic gets to live like this. As I surveyed the room tonight, I was thinking how lucky I am to experience this. People can live a lifetime and not know this kind of luxury. San Fran did not like my hair....I have to admit after a shower this am it is sort of taking on a bright red Bozo the Clown-esque hue (an unrelated side note, I did meet the REAL Bozo the clown in traffic court one time in Chicago. He was a small unassuming Italian man with a straw hat in hand in court. Quite a nice man.) Most importantly, I scratched the itch that has been bothering me for the last two months. It is nice having a pretend boyfriend. He plays along and does a good acting job. It just is not enough for me. I want more. I want a real boyfriend. San Fran checks out after a while. We didn't say a word to each other for hours today. He gets calls and hits ignore when we are together. I am a realist...he has some action in San Francisco. It is just a matter of time until my pretend boyfriend is somebody else's real boyfriend. I am tired and sore. My hips feel like they are ripping out of my sockets. I have bruising from my knees up. I feel sad, and raw, and poor.....emotionally, financially and spiritually. There has got to be more than this. Has to be. More.