The Biker's Rules
There’s a long pause, too long, and I wish I could see her face.
“He’s a player…” she finally says. Soft. Honest. Almost apologetic.
“True,” Mom agrees without missing a beat.
My chest drops. Wow. Whose side are we on here, Mom?
“Unlike us girls,” Mom continues calmly, “boys aren’t born very smart.”
I bite my lip. Really Mom?
At least she’s making Mel laugh.
“They’re born with their brains between their legs,” Mom adds, warming up now, “so they’re ruled by their dicks. They screw around a lot — it’s natural. Annoying, but natural. The hope is that eventually they get enough sense to realize there’s more to life.”