J Lee responded to the same Craig’s List ad that Seattle Guy did:  it was under Strictly Platonic as I was looking for guy FRIENDS.

J Lee:

Just moved to town.  And looking for friends. Female friends are always good, for me, as it seems that male friends are for you?

But yeah… I’m interesting and attractive and funny and all that (unfortunately?). But, I mean, I’m also really good at just being friends, and would be down with just hanging out and talking, or going out for a movie, or dancing, or a few drinks, or whatever.

That’s it. I’ve attached a pic.

The photo attached was of a cute, very sweet-looking guy with big blue eyes.

SSF:

You’re lucky I’m not an eye person.  I’m more of a mouth person.  Otherwise we couldn’t talk.

J Lee:

Whew, that IS lucky… I promise to be really boring when and if we talk.  You’re one of the funny ones, aren’t you? I can tell.

SSF:

I am fucking funny.  Boring would be good.

J Lee:

Deal. I’ll talk about the stock market and lettuce.

It’ll be like your picture; imagine we’re in a bar, and I’m telling a story about the time I was in line for two hours at the DMV, but I’m telling it in real time so the story really is taking, like, two hours… and you’re so bored you’re watching the Giants game on the television…

It’ll be like that. Perfect, right?

SSF:

Stock market boring, lettuce actually may hold interest for me.

I would have to be pretty fucking bored to prefer watching a Giants game.

Approaching nice, not near perfect.  Keep working on it.

J Lee:

I’m onto you, you know… you and your people have set up cameras all over my house, haven’t you? And I’m unwittingly competing with 29 other men to see who can be the most boring, aren’t I?

Well, let me tell you something… I’M IN IT TO WIN IT.

I wear sock garters.
I eat canned peas and margarine.
I spend an inordinate amount of time at the microfish machine at the public library, investigating fishing stories from the 1960’s.
I collect pocket lint.
I read the “terms and conditions” of subscription web sites for fun.
I spend my weekends bundling newspapers for the recycling center.
I dream in black. Not black and white; just black.

SSF:

I’ve kind of lost track of how many are competing, but my people have that information.  They do have to keep track of all the cameras after all.

I have the utmost confidence in you. Unfortunately you’re making me laugh.

But you’re very boring, it’s true.  Keep telling me how boring you are.

J Lee:

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m boring,” he said again. “I’m so boring, I make Jehovah’s Witnesses check to see if their watches are still running. I play the recorder. I tivo the Home Shopping Network. What’s got two thumbs and loves prune juice?” He made fists with both his hands and pointed his thumbs at his chest. “THIS GUY!”

Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly agape; she shook her head slowly. “So boring,” she whispered.

He pointed down at his feet. “Brown socks and sandals.” He held up his hand in front of his face and pointed at his wrist. “Digital.” He tapped quickly at the keys. When he showed it to her, upside down, it read, “you are reading this on my calculator watch.”

“Oh god… bore me more, please, bore me more…”

“I bore so well termites come to me for advice. I’m boring, I tells ya… I’m so boring I go into chat rooms and pretend to be a librarian. My favorite video game is Virtual Plumber. You know that Andy Warhol movie ‘Sleep’?” He nodded sagely. “I was an extra.”

Her breathing slowed; her eyelids fluttered; she was out. He removed a perfectly-folded gray blanket from the top of an immaculately-stacked pile of identical gray blankets. Smiling, he shook it out and laid it gently over her prone form, tucking it lightly under her chin. He settled down into his la-z boy recliner and resumed his reading: “Consumer Reports Best American Toasters of the 1990s.”

SSF:

Damn you!  Stop being funny!  I still like mouths more than eyes though.

The identical perfectly-folded gray blankets actually appeals to me; I may be a little OCD.

Why do you research fishing of the 60s and toasters of the 90s?  Other than that they’re boring as fuck?

J Lee:

Yup, you got it. I actively seek out boring things to study just because I’m so… fucking…

Well you know.

I hate to admit it, but since you brought it up again, and in the interest of full disclosure… I’ve been told I have a lovely mouth, too.

And not just by the boys in cell block D, either. Smartass.

SSF:

Why do I even read emails from you any more?  Sometimes I do have a bit of trouble getting back to sleep after I’ve taken the dog to the park in the morning, and well, you’ll suffice.

How did you know I was thinking of the guys in D Block?

Who told you have a “lovely” mouth?

J Lee:

Oh come on, give me a bit of credit; anyone with half a sense of humor would think the same thing if a boy said that he’d been told he had a “lovely mouth”… and since we’re already established that you’re fucking funny, it was an easy assumption…

Several young ladies have admired my mouth over the years, actually. For starters I have unnaturally straight teeth. And if you look at my picture again, you may notice that my lower lip is actually quite large and full.

SSF:

So I guess we can’t be friends really.  Since I’m a sucker for straight teeth and full lips.

And you’ve made me laugh.  Too bad, ’cause I’d like to be friends.

Bore me some more, would you?

J Lee:

Yeah, that is too bad… I’d like to be friends, too…

But the truth of the matter is that, if you really are trying to be good, it might not be the greatest idea for us to become too friendly. ‘Cause I am actually kinda bad. Okay, okay… kinda REALLY bad.

And while I can’t promise to be good, or even to try to be good… I can and do promise to try to try to be good. And trying to be good is, after all, about as boring as it gets, right? So maybe it really COULD all work out…

But hey, emailing is harmless, right? So maybe we can just be pen pals or something.

SSF:

Tell me how bad you are.

J Lee:

How bad do you want me to be?

SSF:

VERY.

J Lee:

I’m not nearly as bad as I could be, but often a lot worse than I should be.

And just when I think I’m being good, I somehow find myself contemplating very bad things indeed.

SSF:

Tell me.  Give me an example.

Are you contemplating bad things now?

J Lee:

“…so tell me. Give me an example.” A light shone in her gray-blue eyes as she smiled. “Are you contemplating bad things now?”

He closed his eyes and smiled too. Putting his hand on the back of his head, he sighed and shook his head ever so slightly. When he opened his eyes, he stared directly into hers and his smile broadened. He had unnaturally straight teeth that glinted in the light reflected by the mirror behind the bar.

He didn’t say a word, but the message in his gaze was clear. A flush rose in her cheeks. Not one to easily fluster, she was caught off guard… but only for a moment. She stirred the ice cubes in her drink, took a sip, and then returned his gaze confidently. Now it was his turn to blush. He laughed and reached across the table, trying to catch her hand. Her eyes widened, and she puffed her lower lip out. “I told you, I’m trying to be good…” her voice trailed off as his foot found hers beneath the table. His toe traced a line up her calf, the inside of her knee… a slight intake of breath, barely audible. He came around the table to her, slowly.

SSF:

What bar are we in?

J Lee:

It’s a bar where everything looks vaguely familiar. You might have been there a few times before, but you don’t recognize anybody. The lights are low, and the decor is dark red. We’re in a corner booth, very private. It’s late, and most people have already gone home. No one is paying much attention to what we’re doing… but your eyes are half closed, and your head is leaning back, and you’re asking for more.

And I’m asking what you need to finish.

SSF:

I’m impatient but I do love the anticipation.

J Lee:

What can I offer you for now… a little taste… a teaser, as you say…

Something about my hand, under the table, under your skirt… drawing figure eights with my finger along the inside of your thigh, the line of your panties, the crease in between… wet folds enveloping my fingers as you look around the bar, checking if anyone is watching… your own hand moves to my lap, your palm resting softly on the outline of my shaft through my pants…

Maybe some young lady is watching from the corner? I don’t know, it’s a work in progress…

SSF:

Do you like panties, or should I be wearing none?  I get very wet.

J Lee:

I’m sitting here trying to decide… I go back and forth… and back and forth… and back again…

I do love panties… as a word, a concept… but skirts with no panties, and you dripping wet… running down your legs, over my hand… that’s hard to resist…

But then again, moving your panties to the side, rubbing your clit with my thumb and your panties are just soooo wet…

See what I mean? Back and forth.

Why don’t you surprise me…

SSF:

For some reason I have to read everything you write twice.  Um, very hot.  Very hot.

Where are your fingers while you’re rubbing my clit with your thumb?

J Lee:

With my first two fingers I’m stroking your labia. Tugging it on the downstroke, but you’re so wet my middle finger (which is on the inside) enters you each time… and my other hand is just lightly resting on your neck, and we’re pretending like we’re having a simple conversation… but it’s really hard to keep our hips from gyrating, and you keep rolling your head back slightly, you are trying to control it but at some point you can’t… and there’s a moan that’s caught right at the back of your throat, you’re fighting it and fighting it but it keeps rolling forward…

Yes, we eventually met, and had lots of great sex until he moved back from whence he came.  I really do find it difficult to be friends with guys when they write this well, and I’m not the only one.

I swear.  True story.