Down the Rabbit Hole - Holly Madison

printed on them.
“I’ve never been to Cabo before,” I exclaimed to Bridget, glowing with anticipation.
Bridget and I looked into flights from Los Angeles into Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, to see if we
could fly in and out the same day. Despite being only a two-and-a-half-hour flight, none were direct,
and international travel is always a bit more time consuming. A day-trip just didn’t seem feasible (or
like any fun). Since Hef thought the world of Tiffany, I figured we might actually have a shot at
attending. But it all depended on what kind of mood I caught him in. After talking it over ad nauseam
with Mary, I got up the courage to ask Hef if Bridget and I could have a night away (Kendra was
invited as well, but since she didn’t want to pay for her own travel, she opted out).
“He says we can go!” I exclaimed excitedly into the ancient, crusty, cream-colored phone in my
dressing room. I heard Bridget squeal on the other end of the line. Much to my surprise, Hef had given
me a favorable response and told me to work out the details and let him know how long we’d be
gone. I felt like Cinderella finally getting to go the ball! I couldn’t believe our good luck! I was so
excited to have my first girls’ night out in over six years!
“We’ll have to make travel plans right away: flights, hotels, transportation,” I rattled into the
receiver. “If we leave in the morning, we’ll get there with plenty of time to get ready for the wedding
and the party.”
“Party?” Like a record player screeching to a halt, I heard my plans instantly evaporate. Hef
repeated himself, “You’re going to a party?”
It was as if he appeared out of nowhere, having changed into his blue flannel pajamas, clearly
oblivious to the fact that it was still daylight outside.
“Well, yeah,” I began fumbling. “I meant the wedding reception. It’s like I told you, we can’t get
a flight back late enough to be able to attend the ceremony and reception. We’d be spending more
time traveling to Mexico than actually in Mexico.”
I prayed he would see this logic, but Hef let out a stifled, sarcastic chuckle, as if to mock me. He
wasn’t even actually listening to me.
“You’re not going to any parties,” he said firmly before shuffling his feet across the hardwood
back into the bedroom. “The trip to Mexico is off.”
Without uttering a word to Bridget (who I was certain overheard the whole ordeal), I gently put
down the receiver as tears welled up in my eyes. I realized in that moment that nothing was ever
going to change. My years of dedication earned me nothing. All I had to show for it was an
increasingly bitter boyfriend and no hope for a future.
“I’m so depressed, I don’t know what to do. I’m not happy here anymore,” I told Bridget as we
commiserated over not being allowed to attend our friend’s wedding.
Truth be told, I had never been happy at the mansion, but I had always been able to put on a
facade leading others to believe that I was. After all, Hef couldn’t be seen having unhappy girlfriends,
could he? I had been fooling someone else all these years as well: myself. While I had come into the
mansion looking for a temporary safe harbor and a possible stepping-stone to a Hollywood career, I
had fallen down a rabbit hole of nasty girls, a degrading love life, eroded self-esteem, and total fear
of judgment from the outside world. I felt like a failure on my mission to make something out of