I hit the true-crime documentaries too hard last week. One episode was about a Black Widow, a woman who allegedly murdered two husbands. A week after murdering her second husband, she was on a website looking for a new man. The dating website was called Millionaire Match.
If you’re wondering how ugly a millionaire has to be to need to find a random person on the internet to go out with them, well, the person she was chatting up looked like he only had one giant tooth in his mouth that came right out the center of his top lip. A one-toothed woodchuck.
In her email to him, she explained how fun and sexual she is. The black widow will know how to hook a man, convince them all you do is walk around with a smile on your face from thoughts of humping their brains out. Little does he know that the last part is literal.
I saw this hysterical clip of Heidi Fleiss on Reels. She says, “I need a rich boyfriend or girlfriend. I don’t care who they are. I have enough problems of my own.”
The I have enough problems is the funniest part to me.
Imagining a life with no financial stress, and that this can be achieved by finding an old ass rich man. I don’t have the time for a person who is retired and needs to take medication three times a day. That is just too old. Anna Nicole Smith is smart, but her work ethic is most commendable.
I was at the gym, going after it on the elliptical machine. The gym was empty, but an old man got on the machine next to me. I was watching a show on my phone, but I kind of felt like he was staring at my butt. At one point, someone came over and chatted with the old guy. From what I could hear, multi-listening, he talked mostly about his health and doctor appointments.
With all this rich boyfriend saving my life thoughts swirling, I thought maybe someone like this guy could be it. His health issues were giving my fantasies a strange twist. I was carrying this frail man around in my arms like a baby. I ended up with the upper-arm strength of the strong sister, Louisa, from Encanto. It seemed like way too much work.
After I got off the machine, the man looked at me and smiled. He said, “Good job, kid. You look really good.”
I haven’t been called kid in a long time. It was nice. I smiled at him and said, “Thanks, you too.”
Maybe I’ll see him around.
I woke up Monday morning feeling drained. I walk around my house singing, especially when I’m heading towards my coffee, but I was struggling. The true-crime binge needed to come to an end. It’s one thing when stories are about women getting crazy rich by being fun and flirty, but there are too many other stories that are downright depressing, such as anything involving children.
I had to go to work, but I’m glad I love my job. I love my independence, too, even if it is expensive.
