Didier: I had to look for a while before I found a way to get HIV. Then, finally, I got the “opportunity” I was hoping for. I read in one of the chat rooms for gays I used to check out that there was going to be a "conversion party" on the weekend. I told them I wanted to go and, after a few e-mails back and forth, I was given the green light.
We agreed to meet at a council flat in south London. The night was cold. The furniture in the flat had been rearranged in order to accommodate the crowd - fourteen muscular gay men in their mid- thirties. A flat screen television, which dominated the room, was playing porno movies. Drinks and snacks were set out in a big coffee table, just as in a regular party. Six frenzied hours of uninterrupted sex, drugs and alcohol. At the end of the night, the crowd began to slowly dwindle. Some left, a few fell asleep on a couch, the master bedroom, or any other suitable corner. But I was in the toilet. Even though the small tiled room was cold, I was sweating because of the cocktail of Ecstasy, cocaine, marijuana and vodka I had taken. As I looked at myself at the mirror, I knew that I had got what I had come for.
Two months later, the doctor in the Saint Mary’s Hospital told me I was HIV-positive.