Okay, I'll make an effort and bring this epic to an end. As I said before, our secret collaboration with Nata lasted long enough for her to have too much free time in the workplace...

One day, I received a spam email offering to test my sexuality. I delete these things right away. I'm even thinking of searching the web for which hot buttons allow you to do this by blinking your eyes. A minute later, the email arrived again. This time, I put him on the death list and asked the search engine to excommunicate the author from the church. A minute later, I received a spam phone call. Nata called. She strongly demanded that I take this letter seriously, as it turns out that she is sending it to me from a special resource, and it is not spam. Even this turn of events did not alarm me.

I logged this email into my computer, opened it, and found a questionnaire inside to check my sexuality. The answers to all the questions promised enlightenment and potency even in the afterlife. I began to mock the idiotic questionnaire questions as best I could. My sexual dreams? The twins are gymnasts, of course, with their mother in addition. Married? It is what it is. Were there any sexual relations after the wedding? Thousands! There was no such option. Okay, well then — more than one, I'm a sex giant! Admittedly, there wasn't a single honest answer. I was gushing with sexuality and gaining points. As a result, I was named the alpha male of all time, and I was encouraged to enter the porn industry.

That evening Natochka came all in tears. The questionnaire I filled out, every single answer, was sent directly to her email by the treacherous spy site. My life was ruined because of stupidity. And Internet technologies. I crawled on my knees, promised a lifetime massage, argued and swore oaths — it was all to no avail. Nata went to a friend's house.

I spent the next day writing a letter to my wife, as she did not answer the phone. I also drank because I was suffering and completely on my own. In the evening, tears almost appeared. I was afraid that Nata would really leave me.

When I created the wisest and most eloquent letter of the 21st century, I reread it, and I suddenly got angry.

"What a fool! I shouted at myself beside myself, "What did you write!" It's all wrong, it's verbal slag, it's scum! I erased my "masterpiece" and placed my fingers at the disposal of my heart. My heart wrote only one line. And Nata returned, but with a condition: I had to rewrite the questionnaire.

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