Playboy, like chewing tobacco and the Three Stooges, has long been favored by the male of the species.

But E!'s "The Girls Next Door," which follows the misadventures of Hugh Hefner's three girlfriends, is turning that tradition on its ears.

About 70 percent of the reality series' audience is of the female persuasion, a startling number considering that a typical premise consists of the blondes trying to finagle their way into a magazine pictorial, not unlike Lucy's attempts to sneak onto Ricky's cabaret show -- although I don't recall Mrs. Ricardo ever having her bare ta-tas digitally erased from the screen.

But most of the 28 million women are drawn in by a different kind of titillation, the turn-on of living in a world where mortgage payments, bad-hair days and buying wholesale don't exist.

"You've got three girls who are very pretty and intelligent, living in a mansion, going to parties all the time, having their pictures taken all the time and being waited on hand and foot," said diehard fan Amanda Smith, a college student and mother of two in Knoxville, Tenn. "It's every girl's fantasy."

Bridget Marquardt, one of Hef's three live-in playmates, said the most enthusiastic fan response comes from women who constantly tell her that she's inspired them to lose weight, go back to school and dream about gracing the magazine's centerfold.

"I think they live vicariously through us," she said in a phone interview from Los Angeles. "I'm sure the hard-core feminist will say we're trapped, but I think viewers see how empowered we are. We're very independent women with our own ideas and our own career expectations. It's very liberating."

I must admit, I don't get it.

Then again, I've never fantasized about being pampered by makeup artists and dressing up in low-cut gowns -- at least not since my sophomore year of college.

It may also be because I've visited the Playboy Mansion. Unfortunately, it wasn't for one of those grotto parties where the only male competition is an inebriated Ron Jeremy. I was there to interview Hefner in the middle of the afternoon and the only "babe" I spied was a 62-year-old gardener trimming the hedges. The home itself is far from awe-inspiring, unless you've always wanted to live in something that resembles a giant humidor.

Call it jealousy, but I don't believe for a minute that any of the three "girlfriends" -- Bridget, Holly and Kendra -- are involved with Hef in a sexual way, especially in these new episodes, in which the 81-year-old magnate looks one rum-and-Coke away from being the title character in a remake of "Weekend at Bernie's."

I don't want to extricate anyone from girly-girl paradise, just as I wouldn't want anyone to separate me from my time with Terry Bradshaw and the gang every Sunday afternoon. I just wish there were more options on TV for female getaways that offer empowerment and success without anyone having to wriggle into a bunny costume.

But maybe that's too much of a fantasy, even at Christmastime.

njustin@startribune.com • 612-673-7431