When asked about gay marriage, Dolly Parton said, “Well, I believe that gay people should have the right to suffer just like the rest of us married folk.”

This weekend my Uncle married his boyfriend. Because we live in a progressive democracy (Oh Canada!), he was able to make his man his legal life partner. Love. Recognized, certified and celebrated!

They’re two classy, practical men. Their vows were some of the most sincere and touching as I’ve ever heard. Mature. Realistic. Heaped with gratitude and appreciation for being well-loved, accepted and challenged to be better together.

My eighty-three old grandmother, who by the way is as Catholic as they come, whispered something to her new son-in-law after the ceremony, and his eyes misted up. We Laportes are masters of wise cracks, but our hearts are sweet.

Jump cut from proud life partnership to Toronto’s Gay Pride Parade. Now, I’ve seen many a pride fest (I live in Vancouver, with the 2nd largest homosexual community in North America, next to San Francisco…and I’ve lived in San Francisco for the matter.) By most social standards, I’d rank “far-to-very-very-far from conservative.” Consensual kink is anyone’s prerogative. Lewd and crude? If its behind closed doors, go for it. I’m pro love, lust, and of course…pro pride. But, for me, the Pride Parade struck me as well, too vulgar.

It didn’t feel like a full on celebration, it felt like a casual protest and it’s viewers were mostly gawkers, not celebrants. If hetero people did what was being done on some of those floats, it would be considered obscene. As a cultural movement, gay liberation is in its teen-hood. And teens are the first to say fuck you if you can’t take what they dish out.

Mardi Gras in Rio and New Orleans, with all it’s dripping sexuality engages everyone in it’s midst. It spares us the angry ‘tude. It’s purist pride, mature pride, pride that invites.

What I did find inspiring with the Toronto parade were the men in military uniforms. It was a fantastic declaration of acceptance and progress, and another great reason to be Canadian, if you dig the Army, that is. The young Latinos sweating to the samba, the old dykes walking hand in hand…a gorgeous site to behold.

Pantless men in chaps humping on Yonge Street, fakin’ fellatio on a float…not so…inspiring. Can debauchery and dignity live in the same space, respectfully? I believe we’re creative enough to figure that out. Does being evolved or politically correct mean condoning obscenity? Not for me. I’ll take grown up love and a backyard barbecue any day.