Girls Make You Weak IT WAS PASSED DOWN TO ME. Just like my uncles’ blue eyes, my grandfather’s flat feet, and my dad’s big nose. All the men in our family have it. And it didn’t skip one generation, either. The men call it the cheating gene. They say it’s built into our DNA. The women in our family say we’re just nasty, sniffing after every skirt in town. But we were born this way. I swear. Even my three-year-old cousin Richie has it. A woman walks into the room and he goes after her. The next thing we know he’s sitting on her lap, rubbing the side of her face, getting all the kisses he wants. Sometimes he even goes for her thighs. “He just likes how stockings feel,” his mom will say. We guys tell her that he’s gonna be a leg man—just like the rest of us. I started off like Richie; that’s what Mom says. Only I was younger—two years old and cute enough to model. Now I’m seventeen. In the eleventh grade. And getting all the girls—even the ones that belong to my boys.
