PeaceBang

Hugh’s Harem

I crawled into bed early last night and watched “The Girls Next Door,” a guilty pleasure reality show about the girls who live in the Playboy Mansion. I had seen it once before and thought it was giggly, boobie fun. The show focuses on the three special girlfriends of Hugh Hefner and they’re so shockingly plastic, blonde and Barbie-ish that it was fun to spy on their lives. They also seem like nice girls, even if somewhat emotionally stunted.

Last night’s episode was about how the three of them wanted to go visit another Playmate friend in Las Vegas. Again, vapid fun. We had shots of them waking up at 4:30 a.m. to catch their flight, the crisis of one of them not being able to find the Victoria’s Secret bag with their friend’s birthday gift in it, shots of them arriving in Vegas and marveling at the “Hugh Hefner Boulevard” sign, and shots of them comparing breasts poolside (”Mine are so new they haven’t really settled down yet,” one says, matter-of-factly. “They’re just sitting there.”).

All inocuous enough, until one of them confesses to the camera that Hef likes to have them all back at the Mansion by 9 p.m. every night unless he’s with them. It’s more than a preference, actually, it’s a house rule. They have a 9 p.m. curfew. These adult women have a 9 p.m. curfew because of the past indiscretions of Playboy Bunny mansion dwellers.

Throughout the bunnies’ day frolicking in Vegas, one of them (Holly, the prettiest) constantly phones back to the mansion to assure Hef that they miss him and love him. Dessicated ole Hef seems slightly bored by it all, and slightly amused, replying “I love you” to every reassuring coo coming from one of his prize possessions.

Perhaps you think that these gals are living large, that their arrangement with Hef is just as economically beneficial to them as it is sexually beneficial to him. Think again. “We don’t get a big allowance,” quoth one bunny, as she frets about the loss of the Victoria’s Secret bag of gifts. “I spent, like twenty bucks on make-up for her!” Another reveals that the girls shopped for the cheapest airfare to Vegas and were pleased to find really inexpensive seats on Southwest Airlines. This didn’t sound like product placement to me; it was a comment tossed off and barely audible.

I’m guessing that the bunnies have their expenses covered when they’re engaged in Hef-approved activities, like appearing in public with him and posing nude for his publications. They probably think that being associated with him and Playboy enterprises guarantees them big bucks when they shoot out on their own modeling or acting or whatever other kind of careers they may pursue. And I hope they’re right. None of them are exquisitely beautiful or dewily delicious — they’re all the generic, over-tanned inflatable doll types, and in Kendra’s case, obviously none too bright. If they’re hoping for a career beyond “The Girls Next Door” I advise them to get on it, unless they’re assuming they’ll land rich hubbies (a pretty safe bet) — and wind up overly-tanned Hollywood divorcees (another pretty safe bet).

The 9:00 p.m. curfew is what really curled my lip. I know Hugh Hefner has made his fortune exploiting women who are lining up to be exploited by him, but I wasn’t aware that he was in the habit of keeping them prisoners in his own personal harem. Yuck and double yuck, Hugh, you dried up snake.

I’d like to track these gals in twenty years and see how they’re doing financially. One of them has an advanced degree and another is studying in some kind of program. It’s 20-year old Kendra I’m worried about; the youngest and least attractive of the the three.

By the way, I wonder what the polyamory people think of Hugh’s arrangement with these three “special” girlfriends?