Saturday night, liaising with several colleagues from Phoenix, Arizona, trolling through the La Dolce Vita circuit. Mediterraneo owner Nicola Prassinos throwing an all-adult birthday party for himself, adroitly keeping pace with various belly dancers. On to Sinatra Bar and Paragon, a go-go boy all gay abandonment in the upstairs VIP room, and out into a fetid, lust-crazed Collins Avenue, one of our more glitz-driven associates quickly losing steam and enthusiasm: "All these people desperately seeking fun. You can't create a good time; it just has to happen. And how could anyone do this every night? It's like being a prostitute A all the enjoyment is taken out of the process, like staying in Vegas too long." Single and horny, married but fun-bedeviled, it's all the same relentless whirl. Winding down with an uptown encounter, a social pro of our acquaintance detailing the proper modus operandi for upper-class mating, right in accordance, curiously enough, with our own clawing-up-to-the-middle-classes marriage: "Keep separate lives; to go out together all the time is suburban. But you should only get married once. Why repeat the same mistake twice? Besides, the first husband remembers when you were young and beautiful, and gives you a little credit later on in life. And darling, never forget the first rule of glamour. Fabulous people always have to be alone.

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