I never met Hugh Hefner which was fortunate because from all I know about him, I wouldn’t have liked him much.

He wouldn’t have liked me either. For starters, I’ve been over 3o for some time now… and I’ve never been blond.

If you are female, chances are he wouldn’t have liked you either… even if you were blond, lithesome and 23.

Hugh Hefner, from all accounts liked Hugh Hefner. At least, it sounds like he adored the fictional playboy character he created and fought to promote into his dotage. Poor guy.

 The real man had a problem.



Marilyn Monroe didn’t like him much either. But he managed to purchase the cemetery plot next to hers for his own remains. “Take that, Marilyn… you can’t get rid of me.”




Nobody is all bad… but he’s allegedly had to pay for companionship for many years now. His “girls” were apparently well paid, indentured servants… with a narrow function. They existed only for the pleasure of this dirty old icon and a few of his “friends.”

In recent years, “they” say he even shooed away any male competition… keeping his “girls” to himself.

The “girls” had a strict nine o’clock curfew to get ready for bedroom duty. Old men can’t stay up too late.

 He claims to have sexually liberated women and to have supported birth control, abortion and gay rights. He did some of that, for sure, but apparently for self-serving reasons, having little to do with female respect.

He offered Qualudes, a drug, which he allegedly referred to as “thigh openers,” to pretty new “recruits”.

His last wife, now his widow, was sixty years his junior.

Right after their wedding, I was in a Starbucks, seated next to a man who cheered, reading the announcement from a newspaper to his friend.

   “You go Hef,” he had said, slapping his own thigh.

I couldn’t help myself, so I asked, if that was something he aspired to do for himself. He laughed.

“That old dude is a comic book character, sweetheart,” he said. “Nothing more… he can keep his silk pajamas and his little playmate.”

His friend chimed in. “I do wonder… if she’s for rent.” Then he winked at me and whispered, “Just kidding… lighten up.”

Apparently Hefner had some conscience though,, at least as it applied to his daughter. When Christie Hefner visited the Playboy Mansion, he would have the residence systematically cleaned in order to keep his realities from his daughter.

P.S: NYT columnist, Ross Douthat wrote in a scathing obit,  “Early Hef had a pipe and suit and a highbrow reference for every occasion; he even claimed to have a philosophy, that final refuge of the scoundrel.

“But late Hef was a lecherous, low-brow Peter Pan, playing at perpetual boyhood — ice cream for breakfast, pajamas all day.”










Thanks For Visiting,

Email Dr. Linda

{ 0 comments… add one now }

Leave a Comment