Stephanie,

I feel like it’s my duty — both as a man and as a cuddler — to clear the air about the events that took place last Thursday at the San Francisco Cuddle Party. There was a physical miscommunication between us, and I thought it would be best to clear the air. As a cuddle party regular for over three years, I ask that you allow my words to snuggle against your brain, and hopefully you will curl up in the Pillow Room with my heartfelt apology (metaphorically speaking, of course).

First of all, I did not “grope” your breasts. Let’s be clear about what actually took place. I was massaging your shoulders, which you permitted with a verbal “yes.” As I rubbed your arms, helping to release the tension brought on by the lack of intimacy in our touch-free society, my hands slipped off your silky skin and briefly — unfortunately — grazed against your ample front (my nervous, temporary squeeze was in response to your initial twitch). This is due to my clumsiness and I apologize, though if you wash your arms with soft lotions before attending a cuddle party, you’re pretty much asking for it.

There was no need to have the Cuddle Lifeguard On Duty throw me out. Allen was a good friend of mine, and a respected co-cuddler, so to be dismissed from the party like a lecherous pervert was both insulting and… well, it was insulting to say the least. However, I forgive you. I know it’s not easy to be a woman, and that you need to protect the chastity of your breasts at all times, but I assure you that my intentions were pure. I simply wanted to bring you joy and a feeling of physical connectedness in this dark, cruel city we call San Francisco. If that’s a crime, lock me in cuddle jail and throw away the soft, huggable pillow key.

Perhaps Cuddle Organizer Valerie told you this was not a “first offense” for me, but again, the previous two incidents were simply misunderstandings. The first time was a newbo error, where I received what I thought was a nod “yes” (this is why you only respond to the verbal yes) to bite a girl’s knee caps. The second time involved a foot rub, a little too much “cuddle juice,” and an accidental vagina kiss. I guess this third accident now requires me to be dismissed from Valerie’s parties altogether.

Remember, apart from being an excellent cuddler, Jesus Christ preached forgiveness. I hope that Stephanie, Valerie and all the other girls I’ve accidentally “wronged” will forgive me, so I can come back to that Garden of Eden known as 145 S. Lamont Drive. If not, then ladies, I understand. However, you can consider this an open invitation to my apartment for an intimate, impromptu, non-sexual cuddle party. I’ll put some KY on the table, just in case, but we do not have to use it. No pressure!!