Oh, it’s a black thing. You wouldn’t understand. (Mischevious grin.)
The OP has laid out a scenario where myself and either 1) a geriatric or 2) a 30 years younger woman will be trapped on an island at, presumably, subsistence level existence for 10 years. Under those conditions, which of these two divas can I put up with the longest?
Martha has a BIG strike against her: namely a lack of immediate resources at her disposal. Tools – heck, even seeds wasn’t mentioned in the OP. So unless this woman can mine ore barehanded and smelt metal tools…
Somehow, with total companionship staring me in the face, I don’t find Stewart’s company all that appealing. Even worse news is that she’ll be 73 when she gets off the island. I’ll only be 43. I’d prefer to spend that time with someone my own age (and ethnic background, frankly) than a woman who I do not perceive as being very interesting and who would likely require more and more geriatric care as our rescue time grows nearer. I’ll probably be kissing off a multi-million benefit from her will if I helped keep Martha Stewart alive, but realistically? In 7 years she’d be declared dead anyway.
Now, I’m not worried about me. I already know how to fish in the ocean, how to gut, scale and clean 'em, how to garden, how to forage for food, water and other resources, how NOT to get lost, how to orient myself with natural landmarks, how to track mammals, and build a shelter from natural materials. My plump body shape should see me through nicely the first year and cold winter. By my second year on the island I’ll be lean and limber enough to experiment with all those positions in the Kama Sutra I dare now only dream about.
If you’ll recall The Apprentice, Troy and Kwama mostly laughed at Omarosa. I, too, would be laughing my ass off at her if she tried to pull half the shit on me she did on the show. Lying? Ha! It’s only two of us. She KNOWS I’d bust her. Race card? Pftttth! I’m black! Lazy excuses? Snort. From day one my rule would be: you share what you work for. I have no problems giving her ass the boot and the silent treatment for months on end to drive my point home.
So basically I’m trading skill, experience, a hard work ethic and the diplomatic skills of a fortune 500 businesswoman for the opportunity for hot monkey sex on the beach with a bitchy ex-beauty queen. But really, how is that different from MOST of the women I date? That being said, she’d better give up the booty quick, because I’m not looking for slaking my unnatural desires on Hangela Pulling-Johnson. Nuh-uh. NoOoo. Not the kid…