He's getting his private school education in a small liberal arts school in rural Ohio, but enjoys driving to Brooklyn for good, wholesome banter with intellectuals. Unfortunately, it has recently come to light that you heard from your sister at NYU that Williamsburg was a good place to hit on art students. He's even less impressed with you now than he was when he found out that you haven't read any Sylvia Plath and only half finished the collection of Bukowski's personal letters that your ex boyfriend bought you for Valentine's Day. He bets that he would enjoy talking to your ex-boyfriend more than he is currently enjoying staring at your tits. He wonders where porn stars hang out. It would be fun to flirt with them ironically. They probably have coke too. He's out of here; Brooklyn is too gentrified anyway. He's going back to Ohio.