A while ago I dated a boy who thought I was "amazing, baby you're so amazing," except for when we were trying to kill each other, or if I sexted him when he was watching sports, or if I dated other guys without technically breaking up with him first...but anyway, he did think I was amazing...except for my love of true crime TV which depressed him. (You know how that ended up, right? Whatshisname hit the road, and I was left alone to enjoy "Snapped," "Deadly Women," "Women Who Kill," and "Locked Up Abroad," but never "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" since that show invariably ends with me drunk & semi-hysterical at the pharmacy at 3am, buying all the pregnancy tests the cats and I can grab. Children are indeed the future, but my future had better not include me going into labor at Lenox Hill Hospital with what I thought was just an upset stomach. Do not want!)
My point--psych! I do have one--is the one thing I find fascinating about true crime TV is all the wasted potential. People who destroyed their own, and others' lives, for something as stupid as money, or a love affair gone sour...people who think that because they're pretty they should be able to live without consequences. People who really don't get it.
I watched an episode of "Snapped" the other day, and at the end, one of the reporters, discussing the murderer's tremendous personality and charisma, said, "I wouldn't be surprised to hear from her again. Oh, she could do anything." Right, anything: and what instead she chose to do, instead of getting a college degree, or starting a business, or writing a book, or contributing whatsoever to society, was to seduce and steal from men, till she found one whom she could manipulate into killing one of her ex-husbands. This was her "life"...or something.