What a waste, you're so chaste

Since becoming single I have been on an unprecedented roll. I exude a ballsiness and confidence that gives men hard erections. Everyone wants to sleep with me. 

Like yesterday on the train. I saw a guy reading a Berthold Brecht play. I shimmied up slowly until I was practically on top of him and reading the book over his shoulders. "You like Brecht? Me too. He won a Nobel Prize three or four years ago," I told him, mistaking the author for Gunter Grass. "He's been on my reading list since I heard him on a radio interview a little while ago," I said batting my eyelashes. Brecht has been dead a long time. "What are you reading it for?" I asked. "Class," he replied, really getting into the little thing we had going. "Where do you go?" I asked. "Stuyvesant," he swaggered.

Stuyvesant College? University of Stuyvesant? I had never heard of Stuyvesant. "It's a high school," he explained.