Destiny isn't a feeder; that'd be overestimating her intellect. She has a thing for "femme" trainwreck lesbians who eat their feelings, and she's an amoral sped who doesn't feel obligated to try to stop them digging their graves with a knife and fork.
Seconded. Call me an arsehole for saying, but just as never-attributing-malice etc etc, we needn't look to pathologies where Dumbth will do. I would say Occam's Razor, but someone or other in our vast saga will have assumed it's made of chocolate and scarfed the bloody thing.
They're already fat when they get with Destiny, and any girl who's been fat/ugly or even just perceived herself as such doesn't set a high bar. They're all emotionally immature and all so far beyond thick that we're talking sliced custard. Nobody thinks, they just
feel - Albert wants Destiny because that's the one that got away and that's not how it was supposed to work, ergo get Dustin back and it'll put the clock back in the slow purulence of her mind. Things will always be put right if she can just
go back to the right time; back to before Dustin dumped her, back to before she made a fake rape accusation, back to before Aunt Tammy, back before 200lbs...basically, if the Cheesebeast can return to being a foetus, she'll be good. Plus, in Dustin's case, rose-tinted glasses, a dollop of ego-thwarted lardrage, intense feels about Dana and the whole cheating thing and probably some murky shit about her complete failure to adult on her own - Destiny almost embodies her failure to launch as that was her first and only attempt at independence - and I don't think it's love down at the base of that hideous barrel.
And they get fatter because they eat when they are contented and they eat when they aren't. They're with someone who says "I love you just how you are, don't care if you're fat" and it's all they ever wanted to hear because that's how life works when seen through the lens of dumb teenagers with dreams taken from media aimed at the lowest common denominator which they personify. They are loved, so it's ok to go balls-to-the-wall and eat what they want, convinced this is It and nothing can go wrong. Then it all goes tits-up because they're not used to or willing to accept any discomfort in the now even for long-term gain, and nobody ever told them that we can't progress in life without it, so their relationships stagnate after the puppy-love stage. You either go round another go on the wheel or you take an uncomfortable risk. These girls all choose the wheel every time because they have the fantasy - if you're loved, you're beautiful; if you're beautiful, you're slim; if you navel-gaze constantly you're a Big Thinker; get one aspect and all the rest will magically happen somehow. And cos it's shaped like a doughnut.
We all get our "hearts broken" (fuckin barf.) These fuckwits are those that not only never learn that we get over it, but still think it's a viable, reasonable concept. Their prince/ess will never come because they never stop holding out for him....and that's the first thing we need to learn not to do.
But they can always have another bun.
Thus we have the Lardland Chronicles, a vast, brooding saga that will roll inexorably onward until its climactic conclusion, the Event Horizon into which we barrel screaming, knowing not what will greet us on the other side of this brave new daw- ah fuck, I'm crap at the Tolkien stuff. We all know it'll end in a large and cheesy explosion.