Down the Rabbit Hole - Holly Madison

lowout that I didn’t even worry about what caused me to feel faint in the first place.
In the first few months of 2009, my primary occupation was being Criss’s moral and emotional
support. When he flew to Los Angeles to tape a segment on Larry King Live, I traveled with him.
“Do you want to go on with Criss?” one of his managers had asked me as Criss was being
summoned onto set.
Huh? I thought. I didn’t come here to be on the show. I thought I’d just be sitting in the
greenroom with the rest of the entourage that made the trip to Los Angeles.
“No, I’m okay,” I said, waving my hands at Criss as if to say “go ahead without me.”
Criss pleaded with me to go with him, gesturing towards the sound guy, who was already
holding a second mic pack.
I didn’t feel like I had a choice in the matter.
“Uh, okay,” I said, hesitantly, thanking God I wore makeup that day and wondering what I would
talk about.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but apparently I was the sideshow attraction that was to be trotted
out to distract viewers from the disastrous show reviews that Larry would certainly be bringing up. I
had become used to being used for publicity at this point, but was still completely surprised by this
particular ambush. Before I had been used for photo ops, planted articles, and local Las Vegas
programs, but this was prime time, national television. It felt very uncomfortable.
“So . . . you’ve been on this show before,” Larry said, giving me a pointed look. In 2005, I’d
appeared on Larry King Live with Hef, Bridget, and Kendra to promote The Girls Next Door. It was
obvious to me what he was thinking. To him, it seemed as if I was jumping from one rich boyfriend to
the next with no purpose or pursuits of my own beyond being professional arm candy.
And in a way he was right. It hadn’t been my intention, but the relationship with Criss proved so
controlling and consuming that I hadn’t been able to make any professional moves of my own. All of
those dreams that I had been so enthusiastic about just a few months before had been shoved under the
rug as my primary focus became being at Criss’s side. Once again a lightbulb went on, and I resolved
right then and there that I needed to make a change.
It had become increasingly clear to me that I had jumped headfirst into this relationship way too
soon. Having striven hard for fame the first 35 years of his life, Criss was an expert at putting on a
charming facade and being able to win people over. After I had spent several months with him, the
facade faded and I started to see what was underneath, what the real Criss was like. I learned that our
views on politics and most social issues were vastly different. He had a fifth-grader’s sense of
humor. (His entourage had to muster up convincing fake laughs every time he repeated the same joke
we’d heard a million times.) I found him to be unintelligent and he seemed virtually illiterate. (He
misused the word “misnomer” so much—even during interviews—that it made me cringe for him.)
It was disappointing to realize how incompatible we were, but I cared about him, so initially I
just felt sorry for him. But as time went on, I saw a mean, bullying, and deceptive side of him, and I
started to get disgusted. I had been so enchanted by this man and by my overwhelming desire to feel
loved and needed that I hadn’t even taken the time to get to know him before committing myself to
him. I realized I needed an exit strategy. And fast.