This article on life in the Playboy mansion makes me want to scrub myself down with lye.
There’s absolutely nothing about Hefner’s little fantasy fulfillment lifestyle that isn’t icky to the extreme–and I say that while having no Puritan hang-ups about sex whatsoever. What Hugh Hefner practices is not a “sexy” lifestyle. A guy who pays a harem of twenty-something women to sleep with him and give the world (and himself) the illusion that he’s some sort of bon-vivant stud is not sexy. It’s just an old, sad, pajamas-wearing, Viagra-popping dude who likes to have sex with pneumatic blondes, and who built a business around the fulfillment of that desire. At the end of the day, the fact remains that he has to pay for sex.
On a side tangent, this shows how silly, arbitrary, and misogynistic our prostitution laws are. What happens at the Playboy mansion isn’t legally speaking prostitution, even though it involves a guy paying women to live and have sex with him for $1,000 in pocket money a week and a chance to become a centerfold. If those women walked out of the Playboy Mansion, went to the next shopping mall, and offered some random stranger sexual favors for $1k a week, they’d be arrested for prostitution. Where exactly is the difference here–other than the fact that it’s the male initiating and controlling the transaction here, and not the woman?
Like I said–lye scrubdown. Living in a place with soiled mattresses and dog shit on the carpet, to be on sexual standby for an octogenarian man-child who probably never got a woman interested in him without the prospect of money or career advancement? Ick, ick, a thousand times ick. I think any streetwalker is far more respectable than any member of Hef’s harem…at least straight-up hookers don’t practice self-deception about what they do for a living.