Gloria Steinem, please don't hate me

I'm not saying that the Playboy magazine and the culture built around it aren't outdated at best and misogynist at worst. That is not in question. Neither is the fact that reality TV may be the first sign of the apocalypse, the harbinger of our doom. You'll never hear me say otherwise. But I do wonder if liking the show The Girls Next Door (about the wacky adventures of Hugh Hefner's three girlfriends) makes me a bad person.

Let me tell you what I like about the show: Bridget.


Sure she's blonde and a bit spacey. But don't you dare call her stupid - she's got a Master's Degree (admittedly in Communication), and is clearly doing this whole Playboy thing to advance her career. The fact of the matter is that, in America today, celebrity is a commodity. Bridget is all about building her portfolio. Besides, she's not anorexic like some models (actually, none of the girlfriends look as if they starve themselves). Hell, I'd date her ... until her thirst for fame and fortune became overwhelming, and we would be forced to part ways.

I can also tolerate Holly, the girlfriend-in-chief. It seems like she honestly loves Hef - creepy, yet endearing. Also, she rules that house with an iron fist. Respect. Kendra, on the other hand... Ugh, that girl is so trashy, and irritating. At the same time, I feel sorry for her. She's the red-headed stepchild of the group (no offense to red-heads in general, MC). By acting so uncouth, she can pretend that being different from the other girls is a choice and not an inherent character trait. Good luck with that.

Bottom line, you have to buy into the fantasy lifestyle. The women of the Playboy mansion obviously don't feel objectified. They live in a castle surrounded by friends, a doting father figure boyfriend, and all the lavish social events they can handle. Watching this show is the equivalent of a live-action Barbie Dream House... all the fun of being wealthy without the tedious parts where you have to earn the money.


You might argue that The Girls Next Door is just an excuse to show naked ladies on television in the middle of the day. Somehow, I can't see a man sitting through thirty minutes of girly chatter in order to see four seconds of digitally-censored boobies. I'm forced to conclude that the target audience for this show isn't pervy old men sitting alone on their couches in stained undershirts, eating directly from peanut butter jars. Rather, The Girls Next Door is intended to be enjoyed by any and all watchers of reality television (including a nerdy third-wave feminist who overthinks everything, including her TV preferences).