'Tis Done

Dear Dobson,

It's taken me a few weeks to get over the frustrating disappointment of an adjournment, but I can feel a gentle shift in attitude beginning to happen. I never expected to feel optimistic about the impending new year, yet that seems to be where my mood is heading.

The 'C' word has been and gone, and it seems to have been something of a success. Mes enfants were happy and grateful; I don't know that I could have asked for anything more than that. I'm relieved. I've never much enjoyed Christmas, the pressure to have fun and feel close to those I love on one particular day is suffocating. Anyway, it's over and it was okay.

Tomorrow will mark the one year anniversary of my relationship with The Man ending. Yes, there is still unresolved business to deal with but that needs to be parked until May. I have plans to hang with some jazzers all day and all night - it will be joyful, the complete antithesis of what was happening this time last year.

Tomorrow will also mark seven months exactly since my first date with SG Guy. He blew me away with the Christmas present he gave me; beautiful, exquisite, French lingerie. I can't wait to 'try it out' when he returns to London in the new year. Things are good. It's lovely and easy.

I was reflecting on the past year last night - I think it's inevitable when a new one is on its way - and I came across a picture of The Man that had been posted on the internet. I wasn't looking for it, but perhaps I was meant to find it. He appeared more 'ordinary' than I remembered. His hairline seemed to have dramatically receded. He was smiling, but looked dead behind the eyes.

Perhaps I was meant to find it?

Frankie

Round Midnight

Dear Dobson,

The title of this latest instalment is a song I'm currently learning for gigging purposes.  It was suggested to me by someone else, but man...  It's screamingly appropriate right now.

Sarah tells it like it is and no mistaking.  I'm meandering through my days in fierce denial.  The trial is almost two weeks away and I've a feeling that, no matter what the outcome is, it's going to feel shitty. You know it's not how I wanted things to be with The Man.  Nevertheless, it's the way things have gone so a pragmatic and practical approach is required for the time being - if only to get me through the dreaded day itself.

In other news, alcohol is proving to be something of an emotional buffer for me.  I know it's not a healthy way of coping with the situation, but the way I see it, the 'situation' will be over soon.

It hasn't all been doom and gloom though.  I've a nice little earner coming up in the form of a dinner / dance gig.  Although not the most satisfying in creative terms, these 'dos' always prove to be quite lucrative.

And there's more good stuff...  At the weekend I was a willing participant in some gin research and discovered some real corkers.  I think I can safely say that Brockmans, Monkey 47 and Cadenhead's would all be up your straße.  Especially Cadenhead's; it's Scottish and 50% proof.  What's not to like?

I continue to spend wonderful evenings with SG Guy.  He's uncomplicated, generous and has the most sublime touch.  His apartment has become something of a haven for me, a rooftop escape from all the sewage down below.

Time for me to attempt sleep.  These days it tends to be disturbed by anxiety inducing dreams, but I have a feeling things might be a bit easier in a month or so.  Goodnight Dobson.

Frankie

Resurrection

Dear Dobson,

We need to get back to doing this shit.

In my mind, I don't care whether we're simply writing for you and me.  I don't care how many followers we have, what the figures are, who's interested or not.  This bloggage, as I understand it, is ultimately for us.

I think, whilst desperately trying not to sound like Tammy Wynette, sometimes it's hard to be a woman.  It's fucking hard.

As you know Dobson, I'm up in court this month - a witness for the CPS.  Partly I've been reluctant to write because I don't know who's going to read this.  'The Man' is aware of this blog and he may well come across its content.  I've reached the point where I don't care if he does or not.

Our relationship ended in the messiest of ways.  He hurt me, physically as well as emotionally, and as you know after a period of contemplation I went to the police.  It wasn't an easy decision to make, but ultimately, at the very heart of it, was the belief that what he had done was wrong.  Very wrong.

I have done my best since things ended, to get on with my life.  I've successfully gigged, I've achieved a Certificate in Counselling, I've tentatively embarked on a new relationship and yet life feels 'stuck'.  Until the trial is over I'm unable to move on.  We still have a connection, even if it's in the most negative of ways.  I want to be liberated.  I want it to be over and I acknowledge that, soon, it will be.

I hope that with the end of the trial - no matter what the outcome is - I will be able to disconnect.  In spite of everything, I still feel tied to him, as if this trial binds us in the unhealthiest of ways.

Obviously it's been a long time and there's much more I could divulge but I feel I need to be economical with what I share right now.  The time will come when it feels safe again, but until then this is the best I can offer.

Frankie

Happy New Year My Arse

Dear Dobson,

These are difficult, desperate days and in the face of such adversity, resurrecting our online tête-à-tête seemed like the only thing to do to preserve a modicum of sanity.

When last we spoke I was on board the Love Train and life was good. It continued to be so until just after Christmas when the stoker decided to throw me off. Nothing was negotiable. Perhaps he thought I'd dodged the fare but I can honestly say I hadn't.

Heartbreak over the Christmas / New Year period is possibly the worst kind. It's that time of year when couples strive to outdo each other with overt, gaudy displays of bile-inducing affection and being involuntarily single amidst all this is akin to having bubonic plague. No-one wants to get too close in case they catch it.

This wasn't what I anticipated going into 2014. I feel as if I missed a big clue along the way; the one that said 'He's going to dump you'. And let me tell you, the man is as stubborn as his Taurus the Bull birth sign - he won't be changing his mind or compromising in any way.

I'm shocked and saddened. I believed we were good together / for each other. Our experience was obviously very different.

Initially I will try and fix myself by taking on board what the Bee Gees have to say above, but luckily for me, I've been broken before so have a few tried and tested methods of my own; good people, running, singing, my course, this blog and strength of character. To be honest I'd have preferred to be planning a holiday with my boyfriend in the new year instead of my solitary emotional recovery, but needs must.

Despite the miserable overtures, it feels good to be back here.

Frankie

Writer's Blockage

Dear Dobson,

My creative juices appear to have stopped flowing.  I'm dry as a menopausal vagina and I blame one thing and one thing only for this arid state of affairs...  Contentment.

Now don't get me wrong, life is not all peaches and cream, of course there are many things I would change or improve given the opportunity or the finances, but in general I don't know if I've ever had it so good.

I am unsure as to whether this new state of Zen comes as a result of maturity, wisdom, awareness and generally being comfortable in my own skin or as a result of things having previously been so shit that anything is an improvement.  Having given it some thought, I believe it's the former.

Without going all hippy on your arse, I feel as if good is begetting good and it's fucking fabulous.  My recent application form has earnt me an interview, my jazz duo is now a quartet with an impending gig at a Central London venue and I have a man who thinks nothing of repairing my mangled runner's toenails...

I feel as if I can have whatever I want right now.  That concept scares me a little, but not enough to stop me asking.  Sacrificing some of my creative juice doesn't seem like such a bad trade off to me.

Frankie

Faffery

Dear Frankie,

Bunny? Was that a friend of yours from private school?

I am generally faffing this year. Hence lack of bloggage.  I am mostly floating in a jetstream of 'Let's just see what happens-ness'.  I feel this is the best course of action.  This will, of course, need to be revised at some point, but I feel a bit of a calm before the storm.

I have just come back from Scotland, where I normally feel a bit unsetttled and undecided about the future.  I have this time come back feeling like I was coming home more. I want to 'do my house up', get settled at work and buy a hall table.  That sort of thing.

I also have to train for this fecking 10k. Christ.

That's all the news that is fit to print. I started this blog in total peace. As per, everyone has now come in the room.

The other thing I am 'getting done' is an office in the back garden.

With a fucking padlock.

Lub you.

Dobson