Why can't I bear it?

Oh no! You won't believe this. The Irish man wasn't there... My poor heart! After all the preparation, and all the secret hope I had... I went to the hotel on Thursday and waited in the bar. I felt so excited, actually, which was so refreshing. When I didn't see him there I asked the concierge if he knew where he might be.

"He's gone madam," he told me. "He was here for 10 days and now he's gone."
"Will he come back?" I asked.
"We can't say," he shrugged. "He's been before, maybe he will come again." Then he looked at me, "He was a friend, madam?"
"I'd hoped it," I said.
The concierge was very sweet when really I must have seemed like a teenager. "We all liked him, madam. He was a gentleman."

And so that night I drank a lot (not there it was too expensive)! And then I came home and drank some more. Then yesterday I slept all day and wondered what I could do if anything. I'm not 15 years old. Why can't I bear it? It's crazy! Then today I went to see Denise a L'Etoile d'Or. It's a chocolate shop near here and I spent 40 euros on chocolates and yes, now I feel sick. And what is worse my heart doesn't feel any better. Comfort eating is a stupid expression isn't it? Tonight I am seeing Berty, the bald actor with the guinea pig. He is always such great fun. I hope he can lift my spirits. I feel like Francoise Hardy right now but not so pretty, or thin. Lzb

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