Women who love psychopaths

Charles Manson still gets love letters, prison guards braced for the onslaught of groupies for Timothy McVeigh, and there’s prestige in loving a “lifer” as opposed to a man who’s merely serving limited time in prison.

Who are these women and what could they possibly find attractive in a person that has caused so much misery?  The gruesome news about the abduction of 11-year-old Jaycee Dugard by Phillip and Nancy Garrido had many asking who are these monsters.  An equally compelling question asks what kind of woman agrees to be the wife and accomplice to a man who conducts such horrors.

Multiple theories try to explain a woman’s attraction to a person the majority of the population considers disturbed.  Reasons such as the catchall low self-esteem, a rebellious adrenaline fix, or feeling like the sole savior of a man the rest of the world simply doesn’t understand, could all apply.

Even if all those theories could explain how a woman could assist and condone the kidnapping, enslavement and rape of a child, then the abuse of her subsequent children, we certainly don’t feel any better about the crimes committed, nor more sympathy towards the perpetrators.

 Even more despicable is the thought that the crime couldn’t have been prevented. There was no lack of oversight on the registered sex offender, ex-con, (although the depth of the oversight turned out to be the Achilles heel in this case).  There were multiple visits from parole officers and a call to 911 from a concerned neighbor.  Phillip’s own mother resided in the house, although it’s not clear whether she was aware of the girls living in the back yard.  Even if the Garrido’s prison correspondence and marriage had been banned, Phillip could have simply have found a different accomplice once paroled.

Had it not been for a manager of special events for the UC Berkley Police Department who felt suspicious about the robotic responses of two very pale, drably dressed young girls, the abduction case may have remained unsolved.

Perhaps the question of how this crime could have been prevented or arrested earlier, should be replaced with two unnerving questions:  How sharp are our radars to suspicious behavior, and if we suspect something is wrong, are the authorities we would normally notify be the best to turn to for help?

Men hate shopping, women miss bargains

In one of our Friday night Happy Hour chats at Chez Leahy, my husband and I calculated that we knew six single and available women for every one single available man.  By available we meant actively going through the sometimes painful task of trying to find Mr. or Ms. Wonderful and make a love match. 

My husband gave the standard answer that men have a broader range of ages to choose from.  A man in his forties, he continued, can date a woman in her twenties and nobody would bat an eye.  I reminded him of an animal called the Cougar, that can be found at trendy restaurants instead of zoos, and that woman have caught up with men in that department a long time ago, thank you Cher.  He then reminded me with a wink that I’m the older woman in our relationship.  Eleven months, but it still pissed me off.

I think the answer can be found in men and women’s shopping habits.  Most men don’t like to shop- insert disclaimer for metrosexuals, interior decorators, dandies, and comic book aficionados.  Men go to a store grab what they need and get out.  Their motto is: “ I know what I like, and don’t make it difficult to get.

Women on the other hand, spend countless frustrating hours trying to find the perfect pair of whatever, or spend a fortune buy stuff that’s too uncomfortable or inappropriate to wear with any frequency.  Their motto: “Comfortable, sexy shoes are an oxymoron”.

This quick session on the couch of Retail Therapy clearly explains the discrepancy.  Because men only focus on getting the thing that has worked for them in the past, (no mystery why 501 jeans have been around so long) they have a higher success rate at finding their other half.  While women are left behind as they cruise the malls (or bars), passing the shops with the sensible shoes or practical tops searching for the elusive, comfortable five-inch stiletto.