AM I WORTH MARRYING?

Taranaki Daily News, 26 July 1929, Page 16

AM I WORTH MARRYING?

BACHELOR STATES MANY REASONS

When a fairy presentable young man with a fairly presentable income reaches the age of 38 without so much as one proposal of marriage to his credit, the know-ing ones are quite ieady to put their heads together, murmuring things about “woman hater” and “doesn’t seem to care about girls.” Life is like that, (writes “A Bachelor” in the Daily Mail). When you’re a bachelor they always assume that every girl you meet \s dying to marry you: when you’re a husband they wonder what on earth your poor wife saw in you. That’s just what I’m fore giving other people the .chance to speculate about it. What could I give any girl that she has not already got? How could I make her happier than she already is?

It is not because I have never seen a girl that I should like to' have for a wife that I have never proposed. I’ve met dozens. It is because I have never met a girl who would not turn me down when I proposed to her if she did the really wise thing. Quite honestly, I don’t think I am worth marrying. I am a fairly pleasant companion, but in no way pleasanter than the scores of other young men that the modern girl numbers among her acquaintances. If a girl married me it would mean that she would have to drop all her other men friends for me. I am quite sure she would be wrong there. As a friend in a crowd, a one-evening-a-week companion, I am all right, but singled out as the all-the-year-round one and only I should almost certainly be a perfectly miserable bore. I could give my wife a good home they tell me. But she has a charming little home now, and I really do not see how I could provide her with anything better. Perhaps we might have a house —something bigger than her present cosy little flat somewhere in Bloomsbury or Chelsea —but with servants at their present premiums she would have a good deal more housework to do.

Perhaps she would be able to do a little more entertaining and on a slightly ’grander scale than at present. But when she entertained her friends they would have to be other women.

I could give my wife a not-too-bad allowance as wives’ allowances go, but it would probably be a good deal less than what she has over from her salary now. And as a married woman she would have ever so many more things to spend, it on. My wife would have to give her attention completely to me if our married life was to be a success. But should.l be willing to give my time entirely to her? I might be willing to do it—but could I ? I should try, but I am quite sure I should fail in the end. I have had my freedom for too long. I have been used to spending pretty freely on my holidays. I should not be able to afford these if I were married.

I am fond of theatres; but I think nothing of a play unless it is followed by a supper-party- and. dancing. I prefer horse-riding to walking as a means of exercise. I have got used to expensive tailors. I know I am extravagant over shirts and ties. All these would have to be cut out or cut down if I were married. A thousand other little luxuries of life that have become necessities of me would have to go by the board. Naturally, all this sounds like the very 4 last word in selfishness. Here, you say, is a man who will not get married because he is unwilling to make tho slightest sacrifice. That may be true. lam selfish, but not half so selfish, as if I allowed a girl who sees me only as I am now- to marry me and then find out after marriage that I have become an utterly different person.

One cannot change one’s life without changing one’s character, too.

That’s why I say I am not worth marrying.