As I woke this morning at the butt-crack of before dawn (5:30, I slept in), I left my room and went to the lobby to get coffee.

Donned in my sweatpants, stained t-shirt and stretched out sweater (no bra), I went in search of coffee. I said hello to Tom, the guy I see every morning, and asked him about his life, which I have come to know over spending a month non-consecutively in Pittsburgh.

He makes me coffee (because sometimes they forget that I am there, and they usually get it out early for me), pours me a cup, and I spike it with all kinds of happy crap, and go back to my room.

I have no makeup on, my hair is not brushed, my eyes are swollen, my boobs are hanging down to my knees, I smell like hell, and I am in my pajamas. And yet, the entire Marriott staff has seen me in this condition many, many, many times.

When I travel, I stay five or six nights at a time at a Marriott. I tend to go to the same places over and over, so I come to know the staff wherever I stay. When I travel 100%, I only get 40-48 hours straight at home over the weekend.

I am married to Marriott.

Who else gets to see me in all my glory in the morning? Who gets to see me at my worst? Who has taken me to the hospital when I was really sick? Who takes care of my drycleaning? Who takes care of feeding me? Who tells me I look fabulous, even when I look like hell?

Let’s face it. YOU would never get to see me the way that THEY get to see me. No way. And yet, here are a bunch of people, IN PUBLIC (they threw me into public), and I have allowed them to see me the way I would NEVER let anyone else see me.

Apparently, I am a polygamist, being married to many Marriotts around the country. So far, they haven’t found out about each other, and I doubt that they would fight over me if they ever learned about each other.

At each Marriott, I get something different. In Atlanta, I get friendship, someone who makes cookies for me, someone who does my dry cleaning, and someone who feeds me. In New York, I get someone who treats me like shit and is untrusting of me. In LA, I get someone who is respectful of me. In Pittsburgh, I get someone who cooks for me. In Tampa, I get someone who tells me I look great no matter what. In San Fran, I get presents.

So, I am married to Marriott. It’s funny; It never occurred to me how many people have seen me at my worst, and yet, I would NEVER allow someone in public to see me the way I look in the morning.

I just wish that Marriott had a male sex service. Then I would NEVER have to date anyone.