Dive In/Float, Samantha French
My name is Frankie. I live in California. I have a home, two cats and a six year old kid. Yesterday, I could have added a husband to that list. Today, not so much. How We Come Apart will follow me through this first year of life separating. There will be “stages” I’m sure. What I look like today (the girl in The Exorcist) will hopefully not be what I look like in a year. What will become of me over the course of 365 days? Will a newer better me emerge or will I be shooting up heroin? Will I even be alive? Will I have sex with tons of hot guys or will I be lured by the free food and housing of my local Jehovah's Witness faction? Your guess is as good as mine.
If you are going through a divorce, separation or know someone who is, follow me through my ups and downs. From the looks of things right now, it might just be downs. Chime in any time you want - - I'm listening.
The Players
Me, Frankie:
Do you really need to know all this stuff about me before we begin? I don’t really know. Skip this part if you want. I’m 42. Liberal. Short. Two siblings. A brother, a sister. Parents still together. Haven’t worked since my kid was born. I have a Masters in Social Work. I have excessively dry feet. Like all unemployed people out there I majored in English at a liberal arts college. The one thing that has come naturally to me that I have stuck with is being a mom. I love it - and though I need a glass of wine a little before five on some days, like most moms, it is embedded in my DNA to nurture and love and watch out for this being I refer to here as Le Kid.
George:
The first thing people notice about George is that he is exceedingly handsome. Even now, writing this and going through all this shit with him, I can say he is easy on the eyes. He is also charming, intelligent, can be quite funny. He is 41. He has a decent job which qualifies him as Major Marriage Material in my mom’s book. So what’s the problem you ask? Read on. Read the F on.
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