I luvz me some boys kissing.  Or even just about to kiss.

I remember going to a dinner party around 1983 it must have been — I didn’t know the two hosts but had been invited by a guy I was seeing at the time and he was friends with one of them from work.

It was a dinner for about eight guests and the hosts and when we arrived it became immediately apparent that the host whom my date did not know was suffering from “The Gay Cancer” or what had been known as GRID until earlier that same year.

Now it’s called AIDS of course.

All of the guests were gay men and you could feel the palpable sense of fear that emanated from the entire group of guests when it became obvious what it was that our host was suffering from.

One couple actually said they wouldn’t be able to eat there and left the dinner party and another person, an insanely sexy blond dancer from the Paul Taylor Dance Company {whom I ended up fucking about a year later}, asked that his food be served on paper plates with plastic cutlery.

I stayed and ate on the good china that I was offered and used the good silverware, but I will admit that I was wondering the entire time if doing so would end up being the death of me.

Both dinner party hosts were dead within 18 months and I learned a couple of years later that the dancer from Paul Taylor whom I dated for a while, and who asked that his food be served on paper plates, died from a nasty CMV infection in the charity ward of St. Vincent’s Hospital — after first going blind and then completely insane.

Of course, we all learned later that you couldn’t get AIDS by eating from the dinner plate of someone who was infected.

“I tried to throw it properly, to clear the roof.  I didn’t want to do it half-arsed and have them throw it back at us or anything like that.  I remember thinking that if I didn’t pull this off, it was going to hurt.  But at that stage I was pretty much committed”

James McKie, a Kiwi from New Zealand serving in the British Army relating how he grabbed a hand grenade that had been thrown by Taliban insurgents into the position that he and his men occupied and how he then threw it back at the insurgents.

The grenade blew up in mid air and McKie was hit in the face and arm with shrapnel but his actions and quick thinking saved all his buddies.

I was at my doctors the other the day for my regular checkup and blood work and he and I were talking about advances in HIV meds.

The convo got around to what it was like living in New York in the 1980s — my doctor is 32 years old and I’ve had more friends die of AIDS than he’s had patients with AIDS {or HIV for that matter} in his entire career — and he was astonished when I was describing what it was like around 1988 or ‘89.

Back then you’d be out to dinner at a popular gay restaurant like Claire’s on 7th Avenue South or Trilogy on Christopher street and all the patrons meds beepers and alarms would start going off around the restaurant at about the same time.

And tables full of gay men would pull out their pill containers and start rooting through them for the dozen or more pills that they had to take with their dinner.

It wasn’t unusual to see an entire table of four, each with their pill containers in front of them, trying to figure out which of the meds they had to take.

Good times!

As most of my friends know I’ve got a soft spot for cute Jewish boys, having dated/fucked a number of them over the years and having lived with one for a couple of years as boyfriends.

In any event, I find Bryan Greenberg of HBO’s How to Make It in America TOTALLY dreamy.

Maybe it has to do with the fat Hebrew svantz most of them feature {or at least most of the ones I’ve slept with that is}  like the one on the nice Jewish boy below whom I used to “date” and who shall remain anonymous.

I’m betting that the adorable Mr. Greenberg has a nice fat one too, just like some of the other boys from the Tribe of Israel that I’ve known and loved.