Having sex with Cheeka would be a superior experience to some horrible roastie bint. Think about it.

You like pizzas, and you're offered either a meal at a 2-star rated place Pizza place or a 5-star rated Steak place but you're not particularly fond of Steak and never have it. You should choose the 5-star Steak place. Cheeka with his knowledge and expertise in male sex would be Steak and the roastie would be a cheap greasy pizza.

Not going to beat around the bush, i'm at a loose end today

>Creatively bankrupt, all my ideas seem destined to failure
>Generalised despair/anxiety
>30 quid down on slots for less than 10 minutes of "play" time with not a single dopamine hit
>My bedroom is a mess with clothes, my bathroom is filithy and my kitchen needs cleaning but its all piled on top of each other and become overwhelming to even consider tackling

and I've got to force myself through a "leg" workout

Cheeka how do I absolve bent thoughts? Women are becoming ever increasingly more disgusting and less appealing. Do I just have to bite the bullet and try shagging a bloke to realize I'm not actually gay? Like seeing the smelly arsehole in front of me to put me off the idea forever.