The story you're about to hear is true and so is this. It's sponsored by ZIP Recruiter. For the past 10 years, Zip recruiter has always had one mission helping companies find great people for their open roles and helping great people find their next job.

That still holds true today. Now, more than ever, if you're a company that needs to hire, zip recruiter actively invites great candidates to apply to your job. So you find the right people right away, no matter what. The industry's zip recruiter makes hiring faster and easier. And right now you can try zip recruiter for free at supercute or dotcom cigarroa. That's zip recruiter dotcom cigarroa w e.

This is the way I heard it.

George was horny, sorry to be indelicate, but there's really no polite way to put it. He hadn't seen Elizabeth in weeks and he missed his wife with the white hot intensity of 1000 suns.

Excuse me, sir, but a letter has arrived. George leapt from his chair and ran to the doorway. Hand it over, my good man with all due speed. The courier complied and George locked the door behind him. Then, with trembling hands, he opened the envelope. The sight of her handwriting quickened his pulse. The smell of her perfume wafted up from the parchment, leaving him breathless. Oh, my gallant champion, it began. How I miss you.

If only we could be together for just a few hours. If only I could sit tomboy for a quick ride with you behind me. George swallowed hard, gripping the page with his free hand. By God, his wife could really turn of phrase.

He tried to slow things down, but when he got to the part that read I know of a soft place upon somebody's carpet that yearns for a gentle touch, well, that was simply too much.

George had to collect himself and then start again from the top. The second time was better. It always was. George read slower, savoring every syllable, pausing between paragraphs to fully embrace the imagery his wife had so cleverly evoked.

When he finished, he wiped the perspiration from his brow and tried to return the favor. Good morning, my Rosebud, he wrote.

Little John has been making constant and earnest inquiries for his bunkie for a very long time, and this morning he seems more persistent than ever. I, too, yearn to be in the saddle behind you, holding on for dear life.

And yes, I know just where I'd kiss a certain someone if I was with her tonight.

Two weeks later, his letter arrived in Monroe, Michigan, where a butler delivered it to the boudoir. There, Elizabeth devoured his words in much the same way he had devoured hers hungrily, greedily.

Then, after multiple readings, she reached for her pen and paper and got busy crafting another flurry of phrases carefully concocted to help her husband release the tension during their long periods of separation.

In other words, George and Elizabeth were sexting Victorian style. Sorry to be indelicate, but there's really no polite way to put it. Their letters were the 19th century equivalent of naked selfies packed with enough double entendre to make Anthony Weiner blush. There were references to long extended gallops writing under the cropper and getting back in the saddle.

In one letter, Elizabeth alluded to the possibility of, quote, breaking in a new filly for their mutual pleasure and discuss the pros and cons of being ridden hard and put away wet.

True, George was a famous equestrian, but nobody could read this kind of innuendo and conclude the topic was horses. And of course, nobody did, because George was not only a horny husband, he was a careless husband.

At a time when a man's reputation and a woman's virtue were still fragile things, George failed to protect both. You see, Elizabeth's letters were stolen. Then they appeared in the pages of the Richmond Gazette, and soon the entire country was reading all about little John and the pleasures of writing Tomboy and that soft place upon someone's carpet in need of a gentle touch. One can only imagine how Elizabeth must have felt seeing her private words in public print, but she survived the scandal and over time people forgot all about it.

Likewise, they forgot all about her husband's other shortcomings. They forgot all about his impetuous nature. They forgot all about his need to always be the center of attention.

They forgot about these things because once again, Elizabeth put pen to paper, this time extolling the virtues of her husband in a series of best selling books about his life on the frontier and his exploits on the battlefield. By the time she died at 90 years of age, Elizabeth had single handedly transformed Georgia's reputation, not from that of a careless husband who famously embarrassed his own wife, but from that of a careless commander who famously killed his own men.

In the movie, George died with his boots on, fighting heroically right up to the bitter end in real life, nobody knows. His body was found three days after the smoke cleared naked, blackened, bloated and covered with flies. One of the first responders said a finger had been cut off and kept as a souvenir. Another said his eardrums had been pierced with a sewing needle punishment for his failure to listen.

Some said he appeared to be smiling in death, while others claimed an arrow had been, forgive me, forced into his rectum, pushed through his intestines and into his Littlejohn, leaving his corpse in a state of perpetual readiness even as it putrefied under the blue Montana sky.

Sorry to be indelicate, but there's really no polite way to put it. Some of Georgia's men were skinned alive. Others were dismembered and rearranged on the ground. President Grant called the entire debacle a completely unnecessary and totally avoidable slaughter made possible by the unforgivable hubris of a narcissistic glory hound.

And yet the soldier who marched his men into that valley of death is remembered today as an enduring hero of the American West, thanks to a devoted wife who never stopped grieving, never stopped writing and never stopped believing her horny husband was some kind of hero in spite of his unforgivable arrogance on the banks of a river called the Little Bighorn.

Not exactly a happy ending for the boy general, but a far better legacy than he deserved made possible by his blushing bride, who really could turn of phrase. Elizabeth Kuster. Anyway, that's the way I heard it.