Down the Rabbit Hole: Curious Adventures and Cautionary Tales of a Former Playboy Bunny

by Holly Madison

Here I was, an independent, successful woman, making millions of dollars a year (all on my own), headlining a hit show on the Las Vegas Strip, coproducing and starring in my own television show, and this woman was asking me if I missed the mansion?

So follow me down the rabbit hole . . . the truth may be stranger than you imagine.

“I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.” —Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

I thought that if I wished hard enough, perhaps I would fall down the rabbit hole and find myself in a decadent world beyond my wildest dreams.

Life inside the mansion wasn’t at all what I expected to be—not even close.

I had to believe that there was a greater purpose for the choices I had made: whether it was to help advance my career or whether it was truly for love.

But life inside the Playboy Mansion wasn’t exactly the sexy fairy tale my ex-boyfriend would have you believe. In fact, it was like a bedazzled, twisted prison where the inmates developed their own hazing and hierarchy and where the release back into society was the equivalent of being excommunicated.

I would be lying if I said I still didn’t have dreams of one day scoring a pictorial in Playboy’s iconic pages, and mansion parties were a fun way to spend the weekend, but my main focus was either pursuing an acting career or going back to school.

In fact, during my time at the mansion, I can only say for sure that two of us remained faithful (my future BFF Bridget Marquardt and myself).

It was in his best interest to have us wallowing in our own insecurities and pawing for his acceptance.

A stable environment among the girlfriends wasn’t much fun for him, so he began using me as a means to reprimand them.

know!” Clearly he was used to, or preferred, a woman with no more than a grade school level education.

Like Beauty locked up in the Beast’s castle, I developed my own brand of Stockholm syndrome, identifying with my captor.

And just like that, I was in love. It didn’t seem to matter that I couldn’t recall how or why. Simply put, it was just a decision I made.

In a few short months, I had gone from a friendly, optimistic, confident woman to a confused girl with a nervous stammer who second-guessed every thought that went through her head and rationalized every bad decision she made.

To him, a woman’s beauty is her most powerful asset . . . unless of course she happens to be famous.

I had tried to help my boyfriend navigate a sticky situation and now I was being punished for it, which made the reprimand hurt all the more.

Despite presenting Hef with a birthday cake totally nude while filming an episode of Girls Next Door, Pam Anderson always struck me as incredibly guarded and quite shy.

“I don’t care about money, I just want to be wonderful,” was a Marilyn Monroe quote I lived by.

People may find it surprising that Hugh Hefner is nothing more than a tenant renting his room at the mansion, but that’s exactly how it is.

DESPITE MY ATTEMPTS TO befriend Kendra, she continued to push me away.

Though The Girls Next Door marked a sudden change in Bridget’s, Kendra’s, and my lives, the series wasn’t created overnight.

“Kendra is the one who wants to have fun, Bridget is the one who wants a career, and you’re the one who cares about me.”

But worse than our bottom end of the scale pay for the pictorial was the fact that despite being the stars of the show, Hef and the producers decided that Bridget, Kendra, and I wouldn’t receive a single dime for the first order of The Girls Next Door.

We were constantly reminded that the show was Hef’s show—our contributions were irrelevant. We were the decorative icing, not the cake. According to our boyfriend, he could have splashed any three blondes on screen and found instant success.

I guess there is something Hugh Hefner loves more than sex, and that’s fame.

I tried to play off my outburst as having been touched by the romantic moment (and I think most people bought it!), but in reality I was crying because of what a farce this whole thing was and how stretched thin my nerves were at that moment. Hef reading off the flowing words of love from the card reminded me again what a joke this whole situation was and made me feel like I had missed out on my chance to ever have anything real with someone; to ever meet a man who really deserved a card like that. I had sold my soul to the devil and felt that there was no way out.

All I had to show for it was an increasingly bitter boyfriend and no hope for a future.

In that moment, I didn’t care if I couldn’t find someone to love me outside of the mansion, because it was crystal clear no one on the inside loved me, either.

Despite the way he treated his girlfriends, I felt guilty even thinking about leaving Hef. I was constantly being reminded of how blessed I was and how grateful I should be. I didn’t want to disappoint or let anyone down.

Las Vegas magician Criss Angel had been jumping onto my radar for a while at that point.

I remember thinking he was attractive—his style was reminiscent of the hair rockers from the ’80s that I thought were cute when I was a kid. He kind of looked like a poor man’s Tommy Lee.

Despite his mysterious on-camera persona, behind the scenes he was an easygoing jokester. In between setups, he invited us to join him and his usual entourage at his resident suite at the Luxor hotel (his friends referred to it as “the compound” behind his back).

After all, I thought he was cute, but I wasn’t going to date him, so I didn’t waste my time feeling insulted. I could tell that Monica definitely thought something was up, though.

And in that moment I knew I couldn’t stay. I wouldn’t stay. I was finally done.

I was beginning to realize that he preferred miserable and uninspired Holly—maybe because she was easier to control.

“No one,” he said, pausing for emphasis, “will ever love you as much as I do.” He enunciated the sentence slowly, as if he were making a grand speech.

Unfortunately, my need to feel loved would win out over my need for independence.

Before I met Criss, I had seen his television show and thought he was cute. Had I dug a little deeper and done some research on the guy, perhaps I would have been more hesitant to get into a relationship with him.

We were supposed to be on the same team, but it was starting to feel more like we were in a one-sided “who is more famous” pissing contest.

“It’s like, I know he’s an asshole and I know he’s not good for me, but I’m still so sad. I don’t get it.”

I was sick of being thought of as “Hugh Hefner’s ex,” and the way I felt like Criss used me for publicity had left a bad taste in my mouth, so I was determined to stand on my own and not publicize my love

Maybe I wasn’t defined by the mistakes I had made after all . . . maybe those decisions were what allowed me to become the person I was always destined to be.

“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.” —Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

This is an important note: a man has to already know what he wants. Don’t waste your time trying to change someone’s mind. It never works.

Marriage and family are certainly beautiful parts of life, but I believe those things can truly be appreciated only when we find, love, and respect ourselves first. Pasquale didn’t come to me at a time in my life when I needed rescuing most—he came when I didn’t actually need to be rescued at all. And because of that, we developed a true and meaningful partnership. He’s my Prince Charming, but I didn’t need saving. I saved myself.