“Are you Happy in Vancouver?” That, we’re told, is how one broaches The Question in this town. Canadians are of course polite to a fault, and so perhaps it’s not surprising that they deal with the tricky business of serosorting – finding sex partners with a compatible HIV status – in such a calculatedly inoffensive way. HIV = Happy In Vancouver.
Am I Happy in Vancouver? Yes, I am.
It’s nice to be back here – it’s my first visit for a few years and the first time I’ve been here with Brent. Vancouver’s a pretty city, with a sparkling harbour and a spectacular urban park, but it’s also a city with a heart and soul. We arrived here on Sunday morning from Tokyo and we’ll be leaving again in a few hours, once the sun comes up.
Last night was the third of our prenuptial dinners, at Delilah’s, with about 15 of our family and friends. One of the best things about this wedding caper is that we’ve spent more time in the company of our friends in the last week than we usually ever get to. And there’s more of that to come.
Also yesterday we went to the Vital Statistics Office and purchased a marriage license. The whole process took about five minutes, and the folks in the office weren’t in the least bit fussed by the two poofs standing at the counter. Two men are getting married, something that would have been inconceivable a few years ago. The sky is not falling, people are sleeping safely in their beds. ‘Traditional marriage’ is not feeling the least bit threatened.