Mr. Hugh Hefner,
Congratulations on getting engaged last week. I proposed to my girlfriend last week, too. Me on the 23rd and you on the 24th. One day apart. Both of us swinging bachelors are now on the honorable path to marriage. Imagine that. Unlike your beautiful fiancée Crystal Harris, though, my Jen has never appeared naked in public, unless you count the time in Cancun a wave ripped off her swim top and exposed one of her breasts to a handful of startled families.
So, let’s get down to it. I think we should co-host our bachelor parties together. Why not? You and your buddies — Bill Maher, Verne Troyer, David Spade. Me and my buddies — Mike, Carlos, Ed. All of us having a night on the town in Las Vegas, or Chicago, or Los Angeles. I refuse to think it was simply fate that we both proposed in the same 24-hour period, especially when it was your Playboy philosophy that allowed me to enjoy a pleasant bachelorhood, and it was also your flagship publication that marked the time when bachelorhood was thrust upon me.
Traditionally, bachelor parties are planned by the best man. My best man Matt, whom I have known since kindergarten, will not mind if he has to defer to the man who invented naked Marilyn Monroe. My only request – and this is a tradition that goes back to Matt’s bachelor party – is that we eat wings and drink beer at some point. The men in my circle prefer to pass from single life into married life with grease in our hearts and smiles on our faces. The other details? We can hash all that out later. Also, you should know, I do not have a ton of money to spend, but I am willing to go halfsies on the wings. Unless Troyer goes nuts on them, in which case we can split up the bill individually.
This is a serious offer, Mr. Hefner. In return for allowing my friends and I to participate in what would no doubt be the greatest night of our lives (besides our own wedding nights, of course), I promise to document the entire experience for Made Man’s readers and yours so that the young men of the world can learn how to plan and execute a proper bachelor party. I have always enjoyed your vision of the Playboy reader, which I first saw defined in your Playboy Philosophy. This party should be worthy of the man you wrote about in your wonderful manifesto.
"Is he simply a wastrel, a ne’er-do-well, a fashionable bum? Far from it: He can be a sharp-minded young business executive, a worker in the arts, a university professor, an architect or engineer. He can be many things, providing he possesses a certain point of view. He must see life not as a vale of tears but as a happy time; he must take joy in his work, without regarding it as the end and all of living; he must be an alert man, an aware man, a man of taste, a man sensitive to pleasure, a man who — without acquiring the stigma of the voluptuary or dilettante — can live life to the hilt. This is the sort of man we mean when we use the word playboy."
I offer you and Ms. Harris — the soon-to-be Mrs. Hefner — my congratulations.
Have you set a date? Picked a location? I know. It’s so soon. I suppose we can go over all that at the bachelor party, right?
jdonatelli (at) breakmedia.com