Like the characters in my third novel, The Devil Inside, you could try reprogramming your brain at one of those “we'll make you straight” joints.
Think Exodus Ex-Jock Crazy Institute.
Some men have actually gone on to live very productive lives while resisting the temptation to be aroused by the scent of a man's manly, odoriferous remnants on a tatter piece of funky, sweaty cloth that was once all up and through his most private and odoriferous parts during extreme physical exertion.
It's true. Some ex-Jock Crazies have become immune to the aroma they have cherished for so long, the very smells that distinguish man from a woman: the ripe, funky pits, the strong, aromatic crotch, the sweaty ass, the raw scent of a man.
Some resist ... until a random whiff of wind tickles the nostrils with a hint of funk--the flavor of which sends your senses on a heady journey that rocks your world all over again.
Point: As long as men are male sexual dawgs, there is no cure for Jock Crazy.