Exhausted

Wednesday, April 26th., Rue de Calais, Paris.

Paris life is exhausting me, but it is inexhaustible. I know so many people, see so much and talk so much that I cannot concentrate on anything. At bottom is the sex question which I must resolve. I have sworn to marry by the time I am forty and that deadline is approaching. I meet many attractive, intelligent and interesting young women but how to make progress?

Today for example I met Miss Thomasson at the Salon. She is American, an artist. Small, slim, dark. An effective woman with large bright eyes and dark eyebrows in striking contrast to a tower of prematurely silver hair. I have known her for more than a year now and speak to her freely on subjects which are more usually discussed in male company. I cannot deny that she raises my heart rate, and she seems interested in me. Almost I think she invites a deepening of our relationship, yet I have felt inhibited from making a move. She is a free-thinker. Perhaps that is what intimidates me due to my conventional upbringing? I have even imagined being married to her! 

I cannot think sensibly. I really need the help of a male friend who I can rely upon to give me genuine and sincere advice, but there is no-one. I know what Wells's advice would be: make love to her first and then decide what to do! But I am not Wells.