“As much as I like the idea of having sex, I just don’t think touch is my love language,” I lied to our marriage counselor in a foolish hope my husband would instead take up acts of service like rinsing out the yogurt cups, wiping the tub clean from curlicue hairs post cold shower, or forking over an Abraham Lincoln to our son on baked ziti Tuesdays at school, but his eyes only whispered “frigid” so I passed the talking pillow and let those thoughts evaporate.
***
Mary DeCarlo is a writer in Brooklyn, NY where she lives with her partner and cat. She writes plays and stories. Her work has been in HAD, Capsule Stories, and Variety Park. Her plays have been seen at Dixon Place, SPARK Creative Works, the Wild Project, Hudson Guild and at other places, too. She has an MA in Text and Performance from RADA and Birkbeck University of London. For more, her website is marydecarlo.com and her twitter is @merrymarymare.
***
image: MM Kaufman
Rejection Letters 