You are a Mormon woman, modest but bubbly. You meet a man who just got out of the military but still contracts for them.

He's not very handsome, kind of nerdy, really. Everybody says you seem happy.

Oh, and did I mention this is one of those things where you'll be asked to make a lot of choices? Like do you marry him or do you marry him? When he gets a job in Fayetteville, NC, will you be happier to see a new city or to feel married?

You are finally having sex on a regular basis. It's not what you thought it would be.

You see how it might feel good with someone whose body aligned a little better. Your husband doesn't seem to know it's not very good.

Your husband keeps saying he wishes he could show off how sexy you are. Do you blush? Sit in his lap and slowly lick his neck? The next time you have sex with your husband, he says he wishes he could show off how sexy you are. The time after that, he says, "My, God, do you know how sexy you are?" And nobody has said that to you before so you don't know if that's how people say it.

Regardless, you don't realize that him saying it over and over means he wants other people to watch you have sex. That he wants you to have sex with other people while he grips his nerdy dick and cheers on the other man.

You finally figure it out when he sends you a link to a swinger site. "I have to show off how sexy you are," he writes, and you look at the profiles and get a little aroused, and then you think back to your husband. Why does he want this? Why would a man who wants this ever get married? Why would a Christian think this is acceptable? Why am I not enough? Is my husband gay?

Pick whatever answer seems to fit the best. Now do chores while feeling angry. Accidentally break something. Get through your dishes really fast. Cry. Go back to the swingers' site. Look up lingerie you can buy online. Stare into space.

Later, lie back on your bed because you are now fucking IndianSuperman, who was the one you told your husband was handsomest. The sex with him is better: It's like an action movie that starts slow, gets intense, resolves. 

When IndianSuperman leaves, you feel conflicted and you don't want to talk about it. The conflict is you wish you were still fucking IndianSuperman.

Your husband puts his arms around you and says how sexy you were tonight. You realize he wants to have sex to celebrate you having had sex. With another man. So do you, like, do it the same as ever with him? You're wetter now. 

Really, please, all the details.

Anyway, then you are fucking IndianSuperman again, and then you are fucking IndianSuperman again.

Question: right now are you fucking IndianSuperman or thinking about fucking IndianSuperman?

The thing is, he's loosened you up. Your body and your words. You want to talk. You want to say you think it's your fault you're not happy here. You want to say you wish you could support your husband more. Finally you admit you wish you could like your husband more.

Your husband finds out you've been going to see IndianSuperman without him, and you didn't officially have rules about this but your husband says the point is moot and you've broken your trust, and from now on your sex life will be just between the two of you.

Do you accept that the bonds of your marriage are the most sacred, abide by that, abide by Fayetteville? Or do you go to IndianSuperman, not knowing if you want to talk or fuck? Do you try anal with him because the day is already strange? Does your husband cut off your phone service or throw out your lingerie or both? Or does he play nerdy tabletop games and wait for you? Is there a chance you could be pregnant? Whose baby would you rather carry? Would IndianSuperman offer to let you move in with him or would you beg to stay, just a little while, as you stalled by telling your husband you needed just a little more time before you're ready to come home? Do you pretend not to see your husband's car following you or do you really not notice it because you think he's more the tabletop gaming type, because you think the rage of all men is more or less the same?

And do you kill him in self-defense or is it really for the insurance money? Remember any choice could lead instead to the landing of IndianSuperman's staircase. Or the only two men you've ever fucked killing each other. Do you marry him, or do you marry him? Fayetteville is lovely this time of year.


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Detail on main page from painting by Erin Lyndal Martin.

Read her postcard.





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