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.

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