"My art class took a trip to the Whitney, and Nate lives like, right across the street. Right on 75th. So I just thought I’d call him and leave him a message, you know, because he’s been leaving me so many lately, and, I don’t know. He picked up. The fucker didn’t have school that day, and he was like 'where are you', and I was like 'at the Whitney', and he was like 'meet me in the men's room on the third floor', and I was like 'fine', because I didn’t want to go back to class and spend the morning staring at those Georgia O'Keeffe flower vaginas. Those things give me the creeps. So anyway, we like, go into one of the stalls, and we’re kissing. And he’s like 'you look hot', and I’m like 'then suck my dick.' So he gets down on his knees, which I have to admit is like the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m like rock hard. And all the sudden he starts talking. 'I’ve been thinking about you, I’ve missed you, I’ve been trying to call your house' and I’m like, not about to have this conversation. So I’m just like 'yeah, well, I didn’t get those messages because we’re living in a shelter for the time being.' And he like, looks at me like he doesn’t believe me, and I’m like, 'what?!' and he’s like 'nothing'. And then he tries to suck my dick but he can’t because I’ve lost my fucking boner. So I like start to pull up my pants, and he’s like 'what the fuck just happened?' and I’m like 'you can’t suck dick for shit.' And that’s when he hit me. And he like, just kept hitting me and hitting me, until the guards came in and took him off me. Felt kind of good, actually."