Hef The 3rd

Hugh Hefner got married for the third time on New Year's Eve.

To Crystal Harris. She is 26 he is 86.

I have no problem with the age difference. She signed a pre-nup so she is obviously insanely in love with the man.

I'd like to marry a woman 60 years younger than me but that would make her negative one year old. I would have to marry a spirit, the essence of a woman about to be conceived. I'm not sure how that could be arranged but I think it would be complicated.

Somewhere around 2003, Hef had seven live-in girlfriends at the mansion. Apparently nine years later he has decided that marriage would be more exciting.

Why does Hef get married? This is his third marriage. He is the opposite of the typical male. The typical male gets married and then tortures himself with fantasies of gorgeous, morally ambiguous women who just cannot keep their hands off him.

Hef lives with gorgeous, morally ambiguous women and decides to get married.

I don't get it.

I admire the man because he brought class to female nudity. There are those out there who would argue that that is an oxymoron. I have no time for those people. Their minds are inflexible.

I hate all men's magazines except Playboy. Always did. Because there is no respect for women, no awe, no appreciation of beauty. They are juvenile.

Hef came along in the fifties - a time when people were easily outraged at the things they were told to be outraged about - and created a new approach. Talk about guts.

The magazine was and is about lifestyle, not just women. I had a subscription for many years. Although pages occasionally fell open in my hands to the photo spreads, I truly dug the magazine for the writing and the dream.

Informative, cutting edge articles, amazing interviews with fascinating people and an aura of success liberally sprinkled throughout the pages.

The dream I reference is the dream of a better life. The magazine was about the best - cars, cigars, clothes, booze, restaurants, clubs, literature and authors, theatre, music. I read all that stuff, looked at the pictures of gorgeous cars and softly tailored suits and believed that my life could get better. Maybe not at that level but good enough that I could indulge a bit.

Hasn't happened yet but I ain't done either.

I killed the subscription years ago because I couldn't stand the juvenile comments under the photo spreads that occasionally fell open in my hands. They were so out of place compared to the class of the rest of the magazine.

I think part of me was also killing the dream. I think I gave up on the possibility of indulging a bit. Gave up on having class in my life. New Hampshire will do that to you.

Recently I have been entertaining the idea of renewing the subscription. I think it would be good to have that inspiration around me again. Keeping alive the idea that I might be able to take my lovely, long suffering wife out to a fine restaurant for a mind blowing meal. And drive there and back in a comfortable, looker of a car dressed in fine clothes and listening to beautiful music on my Bose in car sound system.

That's the kind of thing Hugh Hefner delivered with Playboy. It is a lot more than a magazine, a hell of a lot more than unclothed ladies.

It offers the possibility of better and challenges you to get there.