'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

The Law Is An Ass

Dear Dobson,

After much anticipation and anxiety, my day at court finally arrived. I felt sick, nervous at the prospect of seeing The Man after all this time. Despite my desire to be anywhere but the witness care 'suite' (and I use that word very loosely), there was a sensible voice in my head that kept repeating what had happened was fundamentally wrong and this would be my opportunity to voice that belief.

Three and a half hours later, and after many trips to the lavatory, I was informed the case would be adjourned for another six months. The judges were delayed by the morning's case and they do not, ever, work beyond 4 o'clock.

Upset, disappointed, angry... etc. I know you've heard it all before. So given those feelings, plus the absence of my children and SG Guy who was in Europe, I embarked on a three day binge.

I took my finger off the self-destruct button on Sunday afternoon. It was then reality managed to sneak its way in. I wish I'd managed to shut the door in time, but I failed. It's been a quiet week and numb is where things currently feel most comfortable. I'm hoping it's a temporary state of mind, it's not a pleasant place.

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

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

The Arrival Of Apathy

Dear Dobson,

I am sure you could look back on your many years of teaching and nothing would come close to the huge surge of pride you, no doubt, felt on handing out green pens to your class for self-evaluation...  I get the feeling green wax crayons might have been more appropriate?

The thaw of the Ice Queen is changeable given the cold north easterly winds we are currently tolerating.  I remain unsure as to the best course of action; ‘To feel or not to feel?  That is the question.’  Part of me knows from previous experience that if you open up and allow someone in, it can be a wonderfully enriching and fulfilling adventure.  Conversely, past endeavours have also taught me that the business of feeling can leave you exposed to hurt and heartbreak.  I will think on’t – and perhaps witness the joyful resurrection of the '4am Terror Club' in the process.

On a shallower note – the place where I am happiest – I am relieved to have found the perfect frock for my next gig.  A veritable gift of a dress; it flatters, it’s stylish, it reeks of jazz and I will be able to wear my pearl necklace with it, which will certainly bring a smile to my face.

It’s only just 10 o’clock and I’m already thinking of retiring to the boudoir for some literature and light masturbation.  There are worse ways to spend a Tuesday evening.

Bonne chance with the inspection tomorrow.  Tell them I think they’re cunts and you’ll go far.

Frankie