I cannot be alone in thinking that Crystal Harris (Hugh Hefner’s new bride) is a sugar addict. And what better place to find a daddy to provide sugar than Hugh Hefner? He has got to be one of the the best sugar daddies of all time. But perhaps he is more appropriately labeled a sugar grandpa given the 60 year difference in their ages. Hefner is 86 and Harris is 26.
Sure we all like a little sugar now and then, but this is like mainlining Willy Wonka. There is a point when the price of sugar gets too high. If I was Harris I would have long ago checked myself into rehab and stayed there until I realized how truly troubling my addiction had become. Ah, but I am not Harris – by any measure; and even if I was her age and we were identical twins – I would swear off sugar before I would marry a man 60 years older than me. Even I, as a fairly liberal thinker about age differences in relationships, have my limits; and, graduating with the same high school class as my grandpa would be a clear indication that a man is not in my dating pool (even if he was a genius and he graduated at age 10 – still not in the pool).
I am not saying that Harris doesn’t love Hefner or that she doesn’t have some attraction to him. I am just saying that I don’t think a young woman who looks like her would marry an old guy who looks like him if he wasn’t filthy rich and likely to leave her a billionaire widow before she turns 40.
It is what it is though – he asked, she said yes, and with any luck she’ll be the last great love of his life. And when Hefner is gone, it will be her turn to find a a new man – perhaps one who has developed a taste for sugar; but one thing is for sure – he isn’t likely to be another 86 year old. My money is on a young strapping 20 year old man who can pull off looking positively edible while half-naked lounging by the pool. That is what she will have earned and what she can afford after her time with Hefner, and apparently that is what Hefner is willingly to give to spend his days with a beauty like Harris. Pass the sugar, Daddy…pass the sugar. 
Day one thousand two hundred and seventy-six of the new forty – obla di obla da
Ms. C
