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Scarred
by Stacia J. N. Decker
My husband's heart surgery made him a new man.
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The Nerve Date with Jacqueline
by Jessica Yatrofsky
'Tis the season to be daring.
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The Road
by Scott Von Doviak
Looking to celebrate your holiday with two hours of solid despair? /entertainment/
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Sex Advice From . . . Turkey Farmers
by Kristen Gangwer
Q: What can turkeys teach us about sex? A: Absolutely nothing. With barnyard birds it's business, not pleasure.
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Watch Your Back
by Susan Barnett
What can you tell about a person from their t-shirt?
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Dealbreaker: The Self-Help Book
by Jen Kirkman
How DIY therapy can ruin dating.
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Savage Love
by Dan Savage
How do I tell my girlfriend that I'm pregnant? /advice/
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Pop Culture We're Thankful For
by the Nerve Editors
Toasts from around the Nerve family table. /entertainment/
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The Five Sexiest Apocalypse Movies
by Phil Nugent
Perfect for curling up with the last man (or woman) on earth. /entertainment/
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My First Time
by You
"I remember the zip of the door, and our naked dash across the dark campground to his tent..."
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Things Drunk People Say
by Kathleen Go
"Get the duct tape. You have dropped your last beer."
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Five TV Families to Avoid on Thanksgiving
by Scott Von Doviak
These clans will make you appreciate your own. /entertainment/
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Miss Information
by Erin Bradley
So many women, so few decision-making skills. /advice/
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Hosting Your Own Hedonistic Thanksgiving
by Ben Reininga
Drinking, smoking, and gorging with your friends: this can be the best holiday of the year.
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Culture Wars: Will James Cameron's Avatar live up to the hype?
by Andrew Osborne and Scott Von Doviak
Worthy successor to Aliens, or the world's most expensive Smurfs movie?
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The Confessies
by You
The Robert Pattinson Award for Twilight Devotion
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Platinum Goddess
by Kim Weston
Forget gold: these women are striking in silver, and not much else.
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Mutual of Omaha
by Rachel Shukert
In my Jewish Nebraskan youth group, they taught more than Hebrew.
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Planet 51
by Scott Von Doviak
The premise is Pixar-caliber; the execution is strictly terrestrial. /entertainment/
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Sex Advice From . . . Dungeons and Dragons Players
by Eric Larnick
Q. What has D&D taught you about dating? A. Some days you're the knight, some days you're the dragon. /advice/
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Nerve Made Me Do It: New Moon Midnight Screening
by Jack Harrison
We send a professor of medieval literature to face 1,000 screaming Twilight fans.
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ennifer
Saginor's father was Hugh Hefner's doctor and best friend. In
the '80s, he lived at the Playboy Mansion, where his main job was to give diet
pills
and
boob
jobs
to all the girls, then have sex with them. Jennifer lived there with him, and
while a hired tutor did her homework, Jennifer sampled her dad's drugs and Hef's
girlfriends.
My childhood was remarkably similar, except that instead of
being surrounded by a cream-of-the-crop harem at mansion parties,
I spent my youth amidst elderly alcoholic ladies passing out shirtless in
our bushes at barbecues. And while I walked in on some random hippies having
sex on my bedroom floor when I was six, young Jennifer swam in on John Belushi
and a Playmate doing it in the pool. Which is probably why Jennifer's
tell-all
daddy book, Playground, was picked up by HarperCollins and mine was
published by
Soft
Skull Press.
We compared notes, a couple of
mid-thirties women trained by our strangely compelling, overly naked dads
how to seduce pretty women and lie to our mothers. — Lisa
Carver
You say Hugh Hefner was the one person who treated you kindly
growing
up.
He was always gracious and welcoming. He always allowed me to have friends over and gave me free reign of the property. He never tried to keep me away from anything or lure me into anything. He just let me be. And he never got upset with me.
Don't you think someone needed to get upset with you, young lady?
[laughs] Yeah, probably. Hef was just always really nice, really cheerful. The mansion was a stable environment for me, in this dysfunctional family where I didn't really have a mother or a father.
Do you think your father might not have gone so far off the deep end
if his best friend Hef hadn't created this artificial culture where women are
like food — you
eat them up, and there's always more?
Later, my father got into a different culture of nightclubs and parties up in
the Hollywood hills, and that was gross and those guys were disgusting. I never
looked at Hef as seedy. He was never in that category. His place was always fun
and everyone was in a good mood and it was positive.
A girl named Paulina died in front of you on one last bump of cocaine
while sucking some guy off at one of these parties. She was nineteen. You were
sixteen or seventeen. You tried to get someone to call 911, but instead "security" took her body off and the party went on. Where did they take her body?
I don't know. That's just one of the things I'll never know.
Did you look for the obituary in the paper?
No. I wasn't reading the newspaper back then. And there was so much of that going on at the time — so much chaos in my father's house with all the young girls in and out and the drug use and his mobster girlfriend Vicki. Everything was taken so lightly and loosely. Paulina was just one girl who died.
Your dad was always giving the Playboy girls free plastic surgery. Did
he
offer
it to you?
He would make comments all the time, that I should get my boobs done or, "If
you want to go get a spray tan, I know this person who owns a salon." When
I was sixteen, I got my nose done, but it didn't really work. It wasn't a fun
experience. The doctor was on drugs when he did it, and he messed up my nose.
Was he a friend of your dad's?
Yeah.
He was probably on your dad's drugs.
Yeah. So was I. [laughs] But that was the end of [physical alteration]
for me. I never cared what I looked like. I thought if I was smart and I aligned
myself with the guys. I wouldn't be put in the category of the stupid girls.
I
wished that I didn't have any breasts, not bigger ones.
You write a lot about Carrie Leigh, Hef's main girlfriend in the '80s,
who was often in the news for her extra-exhibitionist antics, though you had
to
change
names for legal reasons.
I pretty much just refer to her as Kendall in print.
Was she the great love of your life?
She pretty much took the role of my mother. Living in the Playboy Mansion with my father was a surreal world where I could sort of pick out my new, fake mommy.
But you had sex with her.
I know.
That's a weird mommy.
I agree. I was very young. I was fifteen when it started, and she was eight years
older. I was starving for affection and attention and nurturing and guidance,
and she took on that role and manipulated the situation. I'm sure I filled a
void in her as well. We had to meet clandestinely. At the time it seemed like
a huge love affair where we struggled to be together against
all odds.
Your father forbade the relationship and threatened you. Did Hef ever
find
out?
I'm not sure.
Do you think Kendall loved Hef and Hef loved her?
I think she was using him, but I think he loved her. All the adoring nicknames
and all the affection he showered on her — I think it was real for him.
At the end of the book, you write that you still love your father. Why? Both
your parents basically left you to die. You were a teenager having car wrecks
and drug addictions, and no one cared.
He loved me, he just had a different way of showing it. He showed his love through
materialism and spoiling me and having me sit in the front seat while his girlfriends — these
dumb hookers that were always around — sat in the back. He
was showing me more respect than he did these girls. I was treated better.
But he was training you purely for his own benefit, wasn't he? When
you told his one nice girlfriend about his other girlfriends, he threw the dictionary
at you and made you memorize the definition of loyalty.
He definitely socialized me like a boy.
More like a predator. Your dad showed you how to manipulate people. He'd
pick out girls at nightclubs and make you go get their numbers, and you had to
feel her out and find the right lie to get her to go with him, whether it was
pretending he was going to get her a modeling gig or that he was a broken-hearted
new divorcé.
Right.
So, were you good at preying on people?
No.
You weren't? All his hard
work
training you, and you failed
him!
[laughs] I'm still learning to differentiate between how I was socialized
and how other, normal people think. It's difficult for people I'm involved with,
because they have to be the recipient of what I went through. I constantly feel
like I live with the voices of my mother and father in my head. It's terrible.
I'm
still searching for this love that only a parent can give. Meanwhile
I'm distrustful and jealous and controlling, always on the defensive. I push
people away.
How has your upbringing affected your sex life?
It's difficult to be intimate. Very difficult. Sex is over here, and
being emotionally dependent is over here.
Like, it's really good not to know somebody's name.
[laughs] Right.
Do you think you're bisexual because of your experiences, or were you born bi?
In my case, lacking a mother and needing that kind of connection caused me to keep recreating these maternal figures. And it's never enough. I'm never satisfied. I'm constantly longing for more affection, more attention. The needs of a child.
Do you feel safest alone in your own home?
Yes.
Do you have to be totally alone for a while every day, or you're just
really
irritable and angry? And you think other people are actually doing something
irritating,
but in fact it's just that they're alive, and in your house.
Definitely. Unbelievable. Where did you get this?
From my shrink. This is how Vietnam vets and people with our
kind of dads are. I get really happy around people, and I like them, but I'm
about
to
crawl
out
of
my
skin after a couple hours. Which can be exasperating for the people who have
to live with me.
It's good if you're a writer, that you have to seek out solitude.
Good if you're a writer. Bad if you're a human being.
Yeah. n°
©2005 Lisa Carver and Nerve.com.
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