My Playboy Tale (RIP Hugh Hefner 1926 - 2017)

It's been over four years since I've blogged, but this deserves mentioning:

In 1962, as an unfortunate nine-year-old Catholic school lad, I had heard of Playboy magazine but that is as far as it had gotten. The subject had come up again in Glen Holtzer’s driveway when he said he thought he had seen one in his dad’s office. With a little prodding, Glen agreed to investigate further while we acted as lookouts for his father’s car. A few minutes later we heard “Eureka” shouted from inside followed by Glen emerging with a stack of magazines cradled in his loving arms. We all took one (time being of the essence) and my booty was dated May, 1961. I stared at the cover of the smiling blond co-ed for a brief eternity, afraid to venture further until Glen told me to hurry; his dad would be back at any moment. I spent the next five minutes in ecstasy knowing that I was hooked forever on being heterosexual.

Thirty-four years later, I was dating a stunningly attractive woman in Atlanta who worked as a hand and face model. (With 36-26-36 inch measurements, I have no idea why they had stopped there.) We were seated in her living room when I remarked that she could easily have been a Playboy model. She scowled “No thanks. My mother was a centerfold and she still regrets it.” The effect on me was like me telling her that my father was Aldo Gucci; I had to know more. After a little prodding mixed with a bit of whining she said, “If you’re that interested I have a copy of it somewhere you can look at.” She returned from her hall closet a few moments later with a mint condition magazine and handed it to me. There on the cover was a smiling blond co-ed with the date May, 1961 printed above her. And, oh yeah, you can bet I looked at the centerfold! (True story; I swear.)