Red flags or red-hot?

Courtroom 2M is filled with many like Carla, fervent court junkies fascinated by the Peterson case and who wonder just how the two women in his life bought his cheesy lines and his lies. Asking Laci is impossible; Frey's head-over-heels tumble for Peterson was steeped in romantic gestures, kindness toward her toddler daughter, dozens of roses and the belief he was a traveling salesman who thought they had a future. Like Carla, maybe Amber Frey just didn't want to know. Despite the post office box address, despite the missed phone calls, despite the revelation he "lost" his wife. When somebody wants someone to be perfect, it is easy to swallow their lies. Who really wants to believe they can be so easily deceived by the person with whom you want to share your heart, life and bed?

Listening to the hours of secretly taped phone calls between the two, it is hard to label either person as the perfect catch. Peterson's voice sounds high and slightly drugged. He uses the word "gay" as a negative adjective. Frey confesses not knowing the word "genre" or being able to define a romantic comedy. Most of their chats sound like a bad cellular phone commercial: "Hello?" "Can you hear me?" "Hello?"

Definitely not the hot and heavy calls expected to fuel a red-hot romance or prove an obsession that led to murder. Journalists worldwide are spinning her testimony into eyebrow-raising sound bites but, frankly, much of it is boring, particularly the hours of phone exchanges.

So far, there has been no recorded I love yous, no heavy breathing, no deep and philosophical musings on the meaning of life, nothing that really shows the two of them crawling into each other's hearts and minds. The laborious call transcripts have some jurors appearing to nod off and the peanut gallery of journalists snickering.

The conversations have not yet answered the trial's main questions: did he do it and how exactly did he do it? However, Frey's time in the witness box has raised plenty of other questions.

How could she believe he was watching fireworks at the Eiffel Tower without any background noise? Why didn't she question him about providing a post office box as an address? Why didn't she figure out he was lying when the time differences between Europe and Fresno didn't add up? Much like recently murdered Utah wife Lori Hacking, nobody quite understands why seemingly smart women (assuming Frey is cut some slack for her "genre" ignorance) refuse to see what is so apparently before their face.

Some courtroom watchers even question why Peterson would choose Frey over the smiling, happy-go-lucky Laci.

"You think she's pretty?" Carla asked me.

I told her I'm glad Frey lost the bangs. A wave of the hands and a deep shrug later, Carla admitted Frey's looks are not important.

"The one he left me for, she was like this," she said, holding her hands quite far apart. "And her hair, ugh, she looked like a witch. It does not matter."

And that, in a nutshell, is it. It doesn't matter why Amber and Scott fell in love, if that is even the correct definition for the short fling they enjoyed before the truth came out. The rest of us third-party observers can read their words and hear about their dates but we aren't going to feel the butterflies or the longing inspired. We aren't going to understand the connection; there is no difference in a transcript of an average conversation between any pair of lovers.

Scott and Amber have become caricatures of themselves in the world's latest soap opera. For those like Carla, who has actually felt the sting of deception, they are reminders that any of us only see what we want to see. And often, love is blind.

Michelle Durand's column "Off the Beat" runs every Monday and Thursday. She can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 104. What do you think of this column? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.