Joel, A Single Lonely Nerd Perv

Joel was a below average guy in all sense of the word. In his mid twenties and of slightly overweight build, he wasn't exactly a social butterfly. He had a stable if monotonous job writing news articles for a decently sized paper and website. Nothing breathtaking or exciting, just compiling an endless amount of information gathered from countless sources into single comprehensible hopefully credible articles that weren't exactly going to bring him any real notoriety or acclaim. He was single and the last time he had been in bed with a women was in his late teens, when he still bothered to keep in shape. Most of his days were spent sitting in front of a computer screen in a small office space, one of many low cubicles surrounded by the clicking of keyboards. His nights were spent in front of a different computer at home in his apartment where he watched porn and pleasured himself to the fantasies of being a more attractive and certainly more endowed alpha male type who could get any women he wanted into bed with him with a wink. While unassuming in public, he was a complete lecherous perv behind closed doors. It didn't take much more then a smile from a decently pretty girl to turn his thoughts to what he wished he could do to her in private. He paid the rent on time and on rare occasions saw friends on the weekends. He almost never went out and had only a few nerdy hobbies to keep himself occupied. Unambitious but envious, in his dreams he was everything he was too lazy to strive for in the real world.

One day, while sifting through a desk covered in memos, reports, articles and other clutter, he found a thick envelope addressed to him. Curious, he opened it and pulled out a thick packet of papers. The front page simply read:

IF YOU WERE A GIRL

Joel sneered at it. What kind of joke or junk mail was this? He was busy and this had nothing to do with the article he needed to finish by the end of the week. He tossed it aside and continued to go through the seemingly endless reports that covered his desk in literal inches of paper. It was going to take forever to get through all of this and he didn't have time to bullshit with a stupid meaningless quiz.

Several long and tiring hours later and Joel was grateful for his lunch break to finally arrive. He grabbed a bite to eat and returned to his workspace, eyeing up some of the more attractive coworkers as he walked. His mind having turned to his favorite4 subject, women, his eyes fell upon the abandoned quiz he'd put off to the side. He regarded the packet and weather out of mild arousal or boredom he picked it up. He thought about the concept behind the quiz and had a rather clever idea, or at least one he thought was clever. He decided he would give it a go and fill it out, but more as a concept of what he felt would be an ideal women in his opinion. No one was necessarily going to see it, anyway. He wasn't really sure if he was meant to send it in somewhere after completing it but he didn't really care. He was going to appropriate it for his own fun, regardless of what the sender intended. It was in that moment of clarity he realized the packet had no sender information on it, the envelope only had his information as the recipient. Just more evidence this was just a joke someone in the office decided to pull. Well screw them.

Joel opened the packet and came to the first question hoping to elaborate on some epic sexual fantasy or at least go into perverse detail on his ideal girl's body type. Instead he got this.

1.) IF YOU WERE A GIRL . . . WOULD YOUR HANDWRITING BE NICE?

Well this wasn't what he expected. Where were the questions about degrading sexual acts? What about favorite positions and toy preferences? What a dumb question, he thought.

"Well, this had already proven to be a big waste of my precious free time."

He was just about to crumple up the entire packet and chuck it across the room when his eyes fell upon a post it note stuck to a corner of his desk one of his coworkers had left for him reminding him of a deadline he had to meet. At least the numbers on the damn thing were legible, the words were little better then scribbles and he was half sure his name was at the top. The main reason he knew it was for him was because he had found it in his workspace. He knew the girl who left it for him, and was glad there was nothing actually important written on it. God, would it kill her to take 2 seconds to write a legible note for someone? Rolling his eyes in frustration, his gaze returned to the questionnaire and he decided he had an answer after all.