Cheryl
From what I remember she was blonde and pretty. We were both 8 years old, and my parents hated her. They thought she was a stuck-up little bitch who was far too used to getting her own way. In the end it turned out that they were right. Cheryl used her feminine wiles to persuade me to steal the odd quid from my grandparents to buy her sweets and pop. She told me I was her favourite boyfriend ever. A few months down the line it all ended in disaster when she caught me playing Kerbie with a different girl one weekend. The 'lovely' Cheryl uttered a 'naughty word' in my general direction, thumped me in a most sensitive area, and ran home crying. She didn't even give me the chance to tell her it was my cousin I'd been playing with, because my parents had told me to 'play nice or else'. After all, I didn't want to be smacked on the backside with a shoe by my scary mother.

Anyway, traumatised by being beaten up by a girl, I could never completely trust a female again. I'm now happily living with a boyfriend and two cats. Yes, Cheryl turned me gay.
(bedsitmartyr : Doctor of Bottles, Thu 20 Oct 2005, 12:39, Reply)