Jesse: The Self-Appointed Queen of Death Row Romance

Jesse is what happens when poor decision-making meets Olympic-level devotion. She has unilaterally declared herself Wade Wilson’s fiancée, despite overwhelming evidence that she is, at best, Fiancée #6 and, at worst, a glorified customer service representative for a man who wouldn’t notice if she spontaneously combusted.

To Jesse, this isn’t just some prison fling. This is destiny. She is convinced that she and Wilson are in a grand, star-crossed romance, even as he actively courts half a dozen other women on the same messaging system. If love were a contact sport, Jesse would be out there throwing elbows, stiff-arming rivals, and diving into the end zone just to make sure everyone knew she was the real Mrs. Wade Wilson.

Fighting for “Justice” (aka Whatever Wade Tells Her to Do)

Jesse isn’t just a romantic, she’s also a legal expert in the same way a toddler in a Batman costume is a crime fighter. She has made it her personal mission to advocate for Wade’s so-called legal rights, even though he appears far more focused on running his Kiosk Wife Ponzi Scheme than preparing any sort of legal defense.

She’s out here, filing lawsuits, writing impassioned letters to the judge, and probably Googling “how to overturn a death sentence using only vibes”, while Wilson is busy telling three different women that they are the only one he truly loves.

And the kicker? Jesse has raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for Wade. If you assumed this money went to hiring a competent lawyer, you have far too much faith in humanity. The funds remain unaccounted for, and Wilson is still sitting in prison, meaning Jesse is either incredibly bad at her job or she’s just funneling money into the world’s most depressing romance scam.

Desperation, But Make It Tragic

Despite Wilson treating her like a disposable burner phone, Jesse remains pathetically devoted. The moment he stops responding to her messages, she spirals into full-blown meltdown mode, convinced that something terrible has happened. Her solution? Threatening to call for a wellness check on a man who is, let’s remember, locked inside a maximum-security prison.

Try to imagine the 911 operator fielding that call:

“Hi, yes, my convicted murderer boyfriend hasn’t texted me back in three hours. I think he’s in trouble.”

Jesse, please. He is not in trouble. He is not in distress. He is simply ignoring you. The only one in real danger here is you, from the inevitable wave of secondhand embarrassment when you finally realize you’ve spent your savings on a man whose only commitment is to whoever sends him the most commissary money that week.

The Last Woman Standing?

At the rate Wilson is burning through his Kiosk Wives, Jesse might just be the final contestant in this horrific dating show. Not because she’s special, but because she’s too invested to quit. She has bet the farm on this man, and instead of admitting she’s been conned, she will double down until the bitter end.In the end, Jesse is not Wilson’s soulmate, she’s his longest-running customer, desperately trying to convince herself that this was all worth it. And when the house of cards finally collapses, when Wilson inevitably moves on to his next naive victim, Jesse will still be sitting there, waiting by the kiosk, hoping that today will be the day her murderer prince finally loves her back.

For once in this deranged saga of lonely women throwing themselves at a convicted murderer, we have a plot twist worth celebrating: Wade Wilson got scammed.

Enter Ari. The one woman who didn’t fall under Wilson’s spell. Instead, she flipped the script and played him. While the rest of the Kiosk Wives were emptying their bank accounts and fighting over who loved him more, Ari was feeding Wilson a fantasy of her own. She claimed to be a lawyer, dangling the possibility of a legal miracle in front of his nose, making him believe he had a shot at freedom and, even better, a career in modeling.

That’s right. Wade Wilson, sitting in a maximum-security prison, actually thought he was about to get out and walk straight onto the cover of GQ. That alone should have been a clue that something wasn’t adding up, but self-awareness has never been Wilson’s strong suit.

For months, Ari spun her web. She became one of Wilson’s most trusted confidantes, talking strategy, building trust, and leading him to believe she was his legal savior. But then… disaster.

The Moment of Truth: Wade Gets Catfished

Wilson had an actual meltdown when he discovered Ari was not who she claimed to be. Jesse and a few of the other Kiosk Wives (who, let’s remember, are not exactly known for their keen instincts) figured out that Ari was a fraud and gleefully delivered the news.

Wilson, the master manipulator, the jailhouse puppet master, got played. This is like watching a Nigerian prince scam an actual con artist. The irony is almost too perfect.

He had no problem stringing along multiple women, lying to them daily, and scamming them for money. But the moment someone lies to him? Outrage. Shock. Betrayal. He panicked like a guy who just realized he wired his entire paycheck to a fake IRS agent.

The Fallout: Wade Wilson Learns Humility (For 10 Minutes)

For a brief, glorious moment, Wade Wilson was forced to experience what every single woman in his inbox had gone through. The rug had been pulled out from under him. The joke was on him.

Of course, the humiliation didn’t last long. Wilson, ever the narcissist, quickly pivoted from “I can’t believe I got played” to “This is a massive conspiracy against me”. Instead of accepting that he’d been duped, he likely convinced himself that Ari was part of some elaborate plot by the government, the media, or possibly the Illuminati to destroy him. Because Wade Wilson is never at fault, it’s always some external enemy pulling the strings.

But no matter how he tries to spin it, the fact remains: he got got.

And if nothing else, we can all take comfort in knowing that, at least once, the puppet master became the puppet.

Savannah is proof that even the most catastrophic life choices can be put on a budget. While most people use their paychecks for, I don’t know, rent, groceries, or literally anything productive, Savannah had a different priority: getting Wade Wilson’s full name permanently tattooed on her body. Because nothing says “wise investment” like inking yourself with the branding of a convicted murderer.

“Sorry, landlord, rent will have to wait. I have a death row inmate to permanently mark onto my skin.”

The best part? She actually waited until payday to do it, as if this was some kind of responsible financial decision. It’s the equivalent of someone saying, “I can’t afford to fix my car this month, but don’t worry, I’ll get ‘Ted Bundy Forever’ across my ribcage as soon as my direct deposit hits.”

Private Messaging: Because This Relationship Is Totally Normal

Not content with just a tattoo, Savannah also wanted to set up a secure messaging system with Wilson. You know, because every healthy, normal relationship involves covert communication methods with a convicted murderer. She even asked Wilson whether she should use her existing number or create a new one. Because nothing screams true love like setting up burner accounts for a man whose primary skill set involves lying and scamming women for money.

Here’s a pro tip, Savannah: If you have to hide the fact that you’re talking to someone, it’s probably a sign you shouldn’t be talking to them at all. But self-preservation is clearly not her strong suit. No, Savannah is all in after payday, of course.

Long-Term Planning for Short-Term Insanity

At this point, the only question left is what happens next. Best case scenario? Savannah realizes she’s been played, gets the tattoo lasered off, and learns from this nightmare. Worst case? She’s currently setting aside next month’s paycheck for an orange jumpsuit of her own.

One thing is certain: if Savannah is making life decisions based on Wade Wilson’s romantic guidance, she will not be retiring comfortably.

Heidi is the kind of woman who, if Wade Wilson asked her to walk into traffic, would probably ask which lane he preferred. There’s desperate, there’s delusional, and then there’s Heidi, who has transcended both and entered a new realm of blind devotion that should probably be studied by psychologists.

When Wilson, from behind bars, instructed her to get his full government name tattooed on her body, she didn’t hesitate. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t stop to consider whether permanently branding herself with the name of a death row inmate was a solid long-term investment. No, she responded with:

“I was made for you. Every inch of my body belongs to you.”

Let’s pause and reflect. This woman has never physically been in the same room as Wade Wilson. Their entire “relationship” exists through a prison kiosk messaging system. But Heidi, in her infinite wisdom, decided that the logical next step was to turn herself into a walking billboard for a convicted murderer.

I can only assume Wilson was running some sort of Tattoo Challenge among his Kiosk Wives, handing out imaginary gold stars to the most committed lunatics. Maybe first place got a 10-minute phone call and second place got priority in the commissary queue.

If Blind Loyalty Was a Person

If Heidi is this obedient to a man who can’t even leave his jail cell, I shudder to think what she would do if he had actual control over her life. Would she drain her bank account for him? (Probably.) Would she rob a convenience store in his honor? (Wouldn’t bet against it.) Would she defend him on social media against the haters who rudely point out that he’s a murderer? (Already happening.)

The scariest part is that Heidi wants to belong to Wade Wilson completely. She wants to be controlled by him, dominated by him, owned by him, like some tragic romance novel where the hero just so happens to be awaiting execution for killing two women.

One can only hope she at least had the sense to get the tattoo in a discreet place. Because at some point, even Heidi is going to wake up from this fever dream, and no future boyfriend wants to explain to his family why his girlfriend is branded like a prize steer.

Amanda isn’t a Kiosk Wife in the traditional sense, she’s not fighting over Wilson’s affections, she’s not getting his name tattooed on her body (that we know of), and she’s not writing letters to the judge pleading for his release. No, Amanda plays a different role in this tragic soap opera: she’s the bank.

Amanda has handed over at least $10,000 to Wade Wilson. Let that sink in. Ten thousand dollars. That’s enough to put a down payment on a car, cover months of rent, or, I don’t know, pay for literally anything other than funding the prison lifestyle of a convicted murderer.

What makes Amanda even more baffling is that she claims she doesn’t want anything from Wilson. She’s not like the other women who are competing for his time, obsessively messaging him, or spiraling into an emotional breakdown when he ignores them for more than ten minutes. No, Amanda simply enjoys the pure and noble act of financially supporting a man who has absolutely nothing to offer in return.

If there’s one thing history has taught us, it’s that blindly donating thousands of dollars to convicted felons always ends well.

The Human Payday Loan

To Wilson, Amanda isn’t a girlfriend, she’s an unpaid finance manager who happens to be dumb enough to keep approving the withdrawals. She keeps putting money on his books, ensuring that even behind bars, he enjoys the luxury of commissary snacks, phone calls, and the ability to continue stringing along half a dozen other women.

And in return, what does Amanda get?

Well, she gets ignored a lot. But every so often, Wilson throws her a few emotional crumbs, just enough to keep her hooked. It’s the same technique terrible employers use when they keep promising a raise that will never come.

“You’re so important to me, Amanda.”
“I really appreciate you, Amanda.”
“I’ll pay you back, Amanda.”

He won’t. He never will. And deep down, Amanda probably knows it. But when your love language is handing over large sums of cash to criminals, reality is just an inconvenience.

Investment Strategy: Extremely Poor

At this point, Amanda has essentially taken stock in Wade Wilson, Inc., and let’s just say this is a terrible financial decision. There is no return on investment. No payout at the end. No happy ending where Wade finally recognizes her as the one. She will continue wiring him money, he will continue prioritizing whichever woman is dumb enough to send more, and eventually, when the well runs dry, she’ll be tossed aside like an expired commissary ramen packet.

Amanda isn’t just funding Wade Wilson’s prison lifestyle, she’s paying for the privilege of being ignored in favor of dumber, crazier women. And honestly, that might be the saddest scam of all.

Kristen isn’t just another Kiosk Wife, she’s Wade Wilson’s most dedicated public relations manager, working tirelessly to convince the world that the man sentenced to death for murdering two women is actually a misunderstood heartthrob.

While most of Wilson’s Kiosk Wives are busy sending him money, tattooing his name on their bodies, or setting up burner phone numbers to maintain secret contact, Kristen has taken on a far more exhausting mission: arguing with strangers on the internet in defense of a convicted killer.

The GoFundMe Mystery: Where Did the Money Go?

Kristen’s devotion isn’t just verbal, she’s also one of Wilson’s most enthusiastic fundraisers. She set up a GoFundMe campaign for his legal fees, which would almost be noble if there were actually any legal fees to pay.

You’d think that after all the money she raised, Wilson would have a high-powered legal team fighting to overturn his conviction. Nope. No lawyers, no appeals, just a pile of cash that mysteriously vanished into the abyss. One might even say it was mismanaged.

So, let’s review: Kristen has drained her time, energy, and possibly her own bank account to fight for a man who contributes nothing to society and has zero chance of ever walking free.

You almost have to respect that level of commitment. Almost.

The Queen of Online Arguments

Perhaps Kristen’s most defining characteristic is her endless war with content creators who dare to discuss Wilson’s case. If someone so much as mentions his name online, Kristen materializes out of nowhere, ready to unleash a 1,500-word Facebook rant about how he’s actually a victim of injustice.

Her biggest online feud? A content creator named Jumpsuit Pablo, who made the unforgivable mistake of talking about Wade Wilson in an unflattering way. Kristen lost her mind. She has dedicated a terrifying amount of time to combating anyone who criticizes Wilson, as if defending a convicted murderer on the internet is somehow going to make him love her back.

If there’s one Kiosk Wife who truly went off the rails, it’s Vivian. While most of Wade Wilson’s fan club is busy funding his commissary snacks, begging him to call, or getting his name permanently inked onto their bodies, Vivian took a different approach: she turned the prison messaging system into an unhinged erotic novel.

Her messages don’t read like normal prison correspondence. No sweet updates about her day, no inquiries about how he’s holding up? No, Vivian went straight for the NC-17 rating. In one particularly cringeworthy message, she wrote:

“Babe, you have to call me tomorrow. I will scream your name while I press it into me.”

That sound you hear? That’s every sane person on Earth collectively cringing.

Vivian, Wade Wilson is in prison. He is not coming over. He is not touching you. He is not capable of physically participating in whatever nonsense you’re describing because he is behind bars for murder. This is less romantic longing and more deep psychological distress.

A One-Woman Adult Film Industry

Vivian didn’t stop at one message. She filled Wilson’s inbox with so many explicit fantasies that, had the prison staff actually been reading them, they probably would’ve needed hazard pay. While the other Kiosk Wives were busy arguing over who was Wade’s real soulmate, Vivian was out here writing full-blown smut fanfiction starring herself and a convicted killer.

And let’s be clear that Wade isn’t special. He’s not charming. He’s not seductive. He’s just available, which, for women like Vivian, is apparently the only thing that matters.

The Eternal Tragedy of the Delusional Woman

Vivian is so deep in her delusion that she has convinced herself that Wade Wilson, a man who literally cannot leave his cell is worth waiting for. Her messages suggest that she believes this is some kind of forbidden, passionate love story, rather than what it actually is: a desperate woman embarrassing herself over a murderer who is probably copying and pasting “I love you” to five other women in between commissary requests.

And when Wade inevitably drops her for the next Kiosk Wife willing to send him more money, Vivian will be left with nothing but regret and a very disturbing text history.

Jasmine, who also goes by Bri, because apparently one name wasn’t enough for this disaster is so emotionally dependent on Wade Wilson that she literally cannot sleep unless he tells her goodnight.

“Bae, I love you. You’re my everything,” she coos, presumably clutching her phone like a teenage girl waiting for a promposal.

Wilson, ever the poet, responds:

“Never been the type to give my whole heart to another person, but how you make me feel is soul deep.”

Ah yes, the classic Kiosk Wife Special: a vague, copy-pasted love note designed to make emotionally fragile women feel unique while he simultaneously sends the same thing to five others.

Jasmine reads this and swoons, completely unaware that she is buying a used car from a man who just sold the same one to half a dozen people and then handing him an extra $5,000 because she feels a connection.

Financial Contributions & General Life Mismanagement

Like all of Wilson’s Kiosk Wives, Jasmine doesn’t just devote her heart, she devotes her wallet. She sends him money, phone credits, and whatever else he demands, effectively funding his inmate romance empire. At this point, Wilson should just start an MLM scheme for prison groupies Jasmine would be his #1 sales rep.

And, of course, she offers to get his name tattooed on her. Because nothing says “I make good choices” like permanently inking the name of a man who is actively juggling multiple women from inside a jail cell.

Even in Prison, Wade Wilson is a Celebrity

At one point, Jasmine insisted that another inmate recognized Wade and asked her to pass along a messageas if Wilson is some kind of prison A-list celebrity rather than a manipulative con artist who got caught.

I imagine Wade beaming with pride at this, as if he just found out he got nominated for an Oscar. Meanwhile, Jasmine probably saw it as divine confirmation that she chose the right murderer to obsess over.

The Unavoidable Crash

One day, Jasmine/Bri will wake up and realize that her entire relationship was a lie. She’ll see the receipts, the copy-pasted declarations of love, the long list of women who also thought they were special, and maybe she’ll understand that Wade Wilson was never her soulmate.

But until then, she’ll keep funding his commissary, waiting for his texts, and losing sleep over a man who wouldn’t lose sleep over her if his life depended on it.

Andrea isn’t content with just being another Kiosk Wife, she has decided that she and Wade Wilson will be having a baby, despite the minor inconvenience that he is incarcerated and physically incapable of contributing to this plan in any meaningful way.

“You’re getting me pregnant right now, whatever way we do it,” she declares, with the kind of confidence usually reserved for cult leaders and lottery winners who think they have a system.

Andrea, unless Wade has discovered teleportation or divine conception is back in style, that’s not how this works.

An Impressive Misunderstanding of Science and Logic

It takes a special kind of biological illiteracy to believe that a man locked inside a maximum-security prison can somehow impregnate you through sheer determination, but Andrea is fully committed to the idea. You almost have to admire the delusion most women in long-distance relationships settle for a romantic phone call. Andrea is out here trying to invent new reproductive technology via jailhouse messaging system.

But Wait… She Also Wants a Wedding!

Not content with just a fantasy pregnancy, Andrea is also demanding marriage. Because what better way to build a lifelong commitment than shackling yourself to a convicted murderer who is never getting out?

She’s not looking for love, she’s looking for a legally binding disaster. In her mind, being Wade Wilson’s wife is the ultimate prize, as if the court system hasn’t already made it abundantly clear that Wilson is going absolutely nowhere.

The Reality Check That Will Never Come

One day, Andrea will either wake up from this fever dream or go down in history as the first woman to throw a baby shower for a child that does not and will never exist. But until then, she’ll keep deluding herself into thinking she has a future with a man who, in reality, barely has a future at all.

Most people take their lunch breaks to eat, relax, or escape their soul-crushing jobs for 30 minutes. Not Camille. No, Camille uses her break time to maintain a long-distance relationship with a convicted murderer.

“Baby, I love you forever and ever. Call me at 3, I’ll take lunch so we can talk,” she pleads, as if this is a normal sentence to say out loud.

Her devotion is so intense that she’s literally rearranging her work schedule for Wilson, handing off customers, adjusting her lunch hour, and probably faking bathroom emergencies just to make sure she doesn’t miss a single minute of quality time with a man who is never getting out of prison.

It’s honestly impressive. Imagine her boss trying to have a serious meeting about work performance, and Camille is sitting there nodding, while secretly setting a reminder to drop everything at 3 PM for her daily check-in with Death Row’s Most Eligible Bachelor.

Tattoo Time (Because of Course)

But Camille doesn’t stop at risking her job for a phone call, she also wants to permanently mark herself as property of Wade Wilson. Because what’s true devotion without a regrettable tattoo to prove it?

At this point, we have to ask:

Is Wilson running some sort of contest?

“First woman to tattoo my full name on her body wins an exclusive 10-minute phone call and a copy-pasted love letter confirming that she’s ‘the one.’”

Seriously, there are so many Kiosk Wives offering to brand themselves with his name that Wilson could qualify for an honorary membership in the tattoo industry.

Career Goals? Never Heard of Them.

Camille is so busy juggling work and Wade Wilson’s phone schedule that you have to wonder if she actually has any professional ambitions at all. At this rate, she’s going to show up to a performance review and tell her boss, “Sorry I missed that deadline, but Wade needed me to draft a letter to the warden about his commissary privileges.”

The sad reality? When Wilson inevitably moves on to the next desperate woman, Camille will be left with nothing but a tattoo she’ll spend thousands of dollars trying to remove and a work history full of suspiciously long lunch breaks that led absolutely nowhere.

Britney, bless her heart, has somehow convinced herself that Wade Wilson, a convicted murderer, is America’s next great heartthrob.

“You’re America’s new heartthrob,” she gushes, as if this is 1999 and he just released a hit single instead of getting sentenced to death.

Someone needs to sit Britney down and gently explain that America’s heartthrobs typically have talent, charisma, and a complete lack of felony convictions. They are not, as a general rule, men who spend their free time juggling Kiosk Wives between commissary requests.

The World’s Worst Love Story

Britney is fully living inside her own Nicholas Sparks-inspired prison romance. In her mind, she and Wilson are star-crossed lovers, tragically separated by unfair circumstances (also known as his own horrific crimes).

Meanwhile, Wilson keeps her hooked with just the right amount of emotional manipulation. In one particularly disturbing exchange, he tells her:

“You’re still going to get punished when you present yourself before me in two months.”

Now, there are two ways to respond to this kind of message from an incarcerated murderer:

1. Immediately block the number, delete all social media, and enter witness protection.
2. Britney’s approach: Giddy excitement and a countdown calendar.

Reality? Not a Factor.

Britney doesn’t see any of the glaring red flags. To her, Wilson isn’t a psychopath manipulating multiple women he’s a misunderstood bad boy who just needs the love of a good woman.

She’s probably imagining the moment when she finally gets to visit him, believing it’ll be some passionate, tear-filled reunion, completely ignoring the fact that her beloved “heartthrob” is currently copy-pasting the same manipulative nonsense to at least five other women.

The Countdown to Disappointment

The saddest part? Britney’s delusion will eventually collide with reality.

Wilson will string her along for as long as she keeps sending money, and the moment she stops being useful? She’ll get the same fate as all the other Kiosk Wives who came before her: silence, gaslighting, and the sudden realization that she just wasted her time, money, and sanity on a man whose only real skill is scamming lonely women.

But for now, she’s counting down the days until her “punishment,” blissfully unaware that the only thing getting punished here is her self-respect.

At the heart of this absurdity lies a recurring archetype; one that Jung himself would recognize instantly as the Redeemer Woman. She is convinced, utterly and without doubt, that her love can transform the beast into the prince. It is the Beauty and the Beast mythology weaponized against common sense, where the sheer force of her devotion will somehow overwrite the inconvenient reality that the man she has chosen has killed, has lied, and has manipulated without a trace of remorse.

These women are not merely falling for Wilson’s deception; they are actively participating in it. They see the evidence, they hear the warnings, and yet they press forward, as if the grandest achievement of their lives will be proving the world wrong about a murderer.

The Narcissism of Martyrdom

There is something deeply narcissistic about this level of self-sacrifice. It is not purely about love or loyalty; it is about proving one’s exceptionalism. These women do not simply want Wilson to love them; they want to be the one woman he loves. The sole exception. The anomaly. They are convinced that they possess something the others do not, that they have unlocked some secret chamber in Wilson’s cold, manipulative heart.

Jesse, for example, is not merely Wilson’s fiancée. She is the CEO of an emotional Ponzi scheme, investing ever more time, money, and energy into a relationship that has already proven itself fraudulent. She has bet on this. She has wagered her dignity, her social credibility, her financial stability. And when the costs are that high, quitting feels impossible.

So she doubles down. And doubles down. Until one day, she wakes up to the unbearable truth: Wilson was never playing the same game.

The Master Manipulator: How Wilson Runs a Harem from a Prison Kiosk

It would be one thing if Wilson were some misunderstood antihero, a Jean Valjean wrongly condemned by an unforgiving system. But he is not. He is a predator, a textbook narcissist who understands one fundamental truth about human nature: the most desperate people in the world are also the easiest to control.

Wilson has, quite literally, turned the prison messaging kiosk into his own personal Tinder, carefully curating a selection of women who exhibit precisely the kind of brokenness that makes them useful to him. He has no real power, he is behind bars, his future set in stone. But he can still dominate. He can still rule. And he does so with chilling precision.

He doles out affection like an intermittent reward system, ensuring that each woman receives just enough attention to keep her addicted, but never enough to feel secure. This is classic psychological manipulation, reward, withdrawal, repeat. The same tactic employed by cult leaders, conmen, and, ironically, bad boyfriends everywhere.

And his harem? They obey. They tattoo his name on their bodies. They send him thousands of dollars. They quit their jobs, they ruin their friendships, they alienate their families. And for what?

A few lines of copy-pasted romantic nonsense from a man who will never see the outside of a prison cell.

When the Scammer Gets Scammed: The Ari Incident

Of course, even a master manipulator is not immune to being manipulated himself. Enter Ari! The one woman who turned the con artist into the mark. She fed Wilson the fantasy he himself had been feeding to so many others. She convinced him he had a shot at freedom, at fame, at modeling of all things (a remarkable belief for a man whose primary audience is a jury of his peers). And when the truth came out, Wilson did what all narcissists do: he lost his mind.

For the first time, he tasted his own medicine. And he didn’t like it. But instead of introspection of recognizing his own grotesque hypocrisy, he doubled down on the delusion. He convinced himself that Ari was part of some grand conspiracy against him, that he was the victim, that he had been wronged.

Wilson, like his women, cannot face reality. So he rewrites it.