Yesterday’s NY Times included profiles of three intriguing gay couples. There were two guys who’d been trying to get legally married since the late 1960s, and through a certain amount of legal subterfuge, they kind of managed it, and they’re still together. The second couple, also male, tried to found a rural utopian community involving farming and weaving, except almost no one wanted to join up. They’re no longer together, but they’ve chosen to live as co-hermits on their isolated property. The third pairing was lesbian, and both woman are professional basketball players. Their relationship is passionate and volatile, and the police were summoned to their home on a domestic disturbance complaint a week before the wedding. The 6’4″ woman insists that she’s not gay, and that the only woman she’s attracted to is her 6’8″ partner. I’m rooting for them, to at least make it through the honeymoon.
As for heterosexual romance, I’m fascinated by the young Latvian woman who’s currently in jail, accused of murdering her much-older American fiancee by tampering with his kayak (they’d paddled out into chilly waters, and only she had a life vest.) The young lady was the recipient of the guy’s life insurance money and in the days following his death, she posted a video of herself doing cartwheels and she lustily sang “Hotel California” at a karaoke bar. We each grieve in our own unique way.
I wish the Times would introduce a new section to the wedding announcements, called either Domestic Disturbances or Engaged to be Murdered.
