My teeth were chattering from the icy cold, yet greeting me on this frigid December eve was a 58 year-old Jewish man, richly tanned, wearing a tie-died t-shirt with a large peace symbol on the front. He seemed to have recently returned from a Grateful Dead concert in the Bahamas. David — pronounced dah-veed — had a room for rent in his apartment in midtown Manhattan. I was there to check it out.

We shook hands and I entered his apartment. He immediately announced: “Excuse me while I kiss a girl,” then bounded off to an adjacent room. The object of his affections seemed to be a 20-something female sitting on…