Conception Day

Today is my conception day.

That is the day I was conceived – or the day spermatozoa met ovum and mixed genetically to create the blueprint for your’s truly.   And nine months later (plus a couple of weeks for good measure) your humble blogger was born.  And you know what they say: you can’t make an homelette without breaking an egg  (that’s a bad French pun).

Is it peculiar for one to know their conception day?

The year was 1967 and the world was about to embark on the “Summer of Love”.  Scott McKenzie was telling people to head to San Francisco with flowers in their hair.  But back in my industrial hometown (called ‘Steeltown’ by the locals) I don’t think many folks were wearing flowers.

April 15, 1967 was, of course, a Saturday night and although it would have been exciting to have been conceived in the back of a ’59 Chevy or under a blanket at a Jefferson Airplane concert (my father actually saw Jefferson Airplane once),  I was – simply – conceived in my parents marital bed.  And when I say ‘marital’ I mean in the apartment they were shacked up in at the time.

My parents were not married until 1972 when I was four.  That would make your humble blogger a…

I never really minded being called a ‘bastard’.

This seems like a good spot to quote Edmund’s bastard soliloquy from William Shakespeare’s  King Lear:

…Why brand they us
With base with baseness? bastardy? base base
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
Got ‘tween asleep and wake? Well, then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father’s love is to the bastard Edmund
As to the legitimate: fine word,–legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper:
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!     (Act I, Scene II)

But what does my legitimacy/illegitimacy matter now?  After all, my parents are still together after almost 40 years of legal marriage.  And The Gay Groom can’t get too self-righteous since I lived in sin with the Husband for nine years before we got around to getting married.  But then again, marriage between the Husband and I didn’t become legal until a number of years into our relationship.

But I digress.

I wonder if a blog can get anymore self absorbed than to discuss one’s own day of conception?   After all, I wasn’t really there.  And since I am a staunchly pro-choice, I don’t view a fertilized egg as anything other than a fertilized egg.  So why bring it up?

Ironically, in addition to being the fateful day that sperm crashed into egg, it is also the fateful day that the Titanic crashed into the iceberg (April 15, 1912).

Titantic Disaster, April 15, 1912

That’s right, 102 years ago today the the RMS Titanic sank in the North Atlantic at 2:20 a.m., two and a half hours after hitting the iceberg.

1,517 people were killed.

By the way, how many of you knew that your humble blogger once had a affair with someone who was in the film Titanic.  That’s actually a true story.

But only a bastard would kiss and tell.

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

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Don’t Give Up Your Day Job (or Jeffrey Sings!)

Jeffrey sings?

When it comes to not writing (or procrastination) I can go to great lengths.  Here is how your humble blogger wasted time today…

With a bit of Avenue Q.

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom




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LGBTQ+ Rights Around The World


Here is my article on LGBTQ+ rights around the world I wrote for PinkPlayMags.

Unfortunately, my interview with Richard Lusimbo the Ugandan LGBTI rights activist was cut in half due to a publishing error. I hope the whole interview will be uploaded to their website soon.

To read the entire article (minus the second half of the Lusimbo interview) click here!

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom


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How I Do Love Barcelona



In fact, the hardest part about the husband and I winning a trip to Spain from Rainbown High Vacations was having to decide what cities to visit and, of course, which we would have to miss this time around.

The question is: will we go to Barcelona once again or try Gran Canaria for the first time?

Click here to read rest of article

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

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Gay Groom:

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Charlie Pachter’s still got it. A limited edition print of DECISIONS DECISIONS (2012) is being auctioned off for Toronto’s Gilda’s Club.

Originally posted on celebrating the arts:

‘DECISIONS DECISIONS’ - inkjet on archival paper  (Artist’s Proof 1/1) – 34 x 50 inches – 2012 – $1,600

Charles Pachter

I first painted Queen Elizabeth II (Queen of Canada) seated on a moose in 1973. Once thought irreverent, over the years the image has come to be regarded as a Canadian pop icon. ‘DECISIONS DECISIONS’ is the latest incarnation of Her Majesty at home trying to decide which hat to wear. More affectionate mischief!

For more about this Artist:

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Kiss Me, I’m 37.5% Irish!!

Your humble blogger is 3/8 Irish.

Finding out that I was Irish (even 37.5% Irish) actually came as quite a surprise to me.  It wasn’t until I was well in my 30s that we learned of my Irish background.  It was after my family (being the nosy bunch they are) had sent away for the military records of my maternal grandfather who (as it turns out) was from Dublin, Ireland.

Now it wasn’t that my grandfather was secretive of his county of origin, instead he was a chronic alcoholic who ran off when my mother was only five years old.  So we knew very little about him.  That was until his military records shone some light on the bum.    In fact, what we learned from the military records of both my maternal and paternal grandparents are worth a blog or two themselves.

But I digress.

Learning that I was Irish was actually rather exciting to me.  Being a writer, I felt a greater kinship with all those great Irish writers:  James Joyce, Oscar Wilde and Jonathan Swift (and the poets) William Butler Yeats and Seamus Heaney.  Suddenly I understood the Circe episode in Joyce’s Ulysses (well, maybe 3/8 of it).

But looking back, I really should have known I was Irish all along.  After all, green is my favourite colour.  And I always liked potatoes, George Clooney and Irish whiskey… and I loved those old Shamrock Shakes they used to have at McDonalds.

McDonald’s Shamrock Shake

However, it turned out that my paternal Irish grandfather was also a member of The Church of England (protestant), or so his enlistment form for the WWII stated.  So the question arises:  Does an atheist like myself who was descended from a protestant Irishman celebrate the Catholic St. Patrick’s Day?

Sure he does!

In fact, I celebrated St. Patrick’s Day before I even knew I was Irish.  This may surprise you but before your humble blogger gave up the juice about a decade ago, he drank more green beer than he’d really like mention.

Let’s just say it was more than a couple of pitchers in my day.

Though Guinness always tasted to me like a beer that someone had stuck a cigarette butt in.  Not my thing.  But as I said, I’m only 3/8 Irish.  Perhaps it takes a bit more to appreciate the stuff.

I’m digressing again.

And then The Gay Groom married the Husband who (incidentally) is named Sean Patrick.

And when you are married to someone named Sean Patrick, celebrating St. Patrick’s day is kind of a given.  It is now an annual event to watch to the  parade wind down Yonge Street in Toronto the Sunday before St. Patrick’s Day to see the Husband’s ‘clan’ go march by.

I don’t have a clan.

And did you know that (like Santa Claus in a Christmas parade) it is Saint Patrick himself that ends the St. Patrick’s Day parade?  I thought the Husband was joking when he told me that.   They find some poor old guy to dress up in green like an Irish pope to close the parade.  But Saint Patrick isn’t what you’d call jolly like Old Saint Nick.

In fact, he’s sort of creepy.

Maybe it’s his dress.  Or those little white gloves my mother wore in 1962.  Or perhaps it’s the enormous cross on his chest (never a good sign).   It rather looked like Saint Patrick just wanted the parade over with so he could get off his throne and go for a green beer himself.

St. Patrick bringing up the rear in Toronto’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade, March 13, 2011

So whether you are Irish or not (0r some fraction like your humble blogger), have yourself a Happy St. Patrick’s Day!!  And remember: if you start peeing green, you’ve had enough green beer.

Erin go Bragh!!!

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom


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Honey Boo Boo (and Me)

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My Tweet featured on Here Comes Honey Boo Boo

It was my big writer’s moment!

My tweet pontificating on Baby Kaitlyn’s polydactyly (she has two thumbs on one hand) made it on Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. This was probably read by more people than anything else I’ve ever written.

A tweet.

On Honey Boo Boo.

photo 1

My Tweet featured on Here Comes Honey Boo Boo

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom


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Watch My Interview On Hamilton Life (Video Blog)

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Jeffrey’s Interview with Greg Ross

Here is my interview (from Feb20) discussing my novel, Shirts and Skins, with Greg Ross from Hamilton Life.

It was a lot of fun! Thanks to all the folks at Hamilton Life!

I’m not as fat as I look. Really!

Tell me what you think!

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom


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Gran Canaria Here We Come


In preparation of our trip to Spain in late-summer, I will be doing a six-month series on Spain for Rainbow High Vacations. Here is the first:

Ah, Spain!

The name conjures up images of sangria, paella, old world architecture, and sexy matadors.  But as I write this in Toronto in January, what I am yearning for most are those sunny Spanish beaches. And as luck would have it, Spain is home to one of the most visited winter resorts in Europe – The Canary Islands. And Gran Canaria with its numerous sandy beaches and beautiful dunes is one of the most established LGBT holiday destinations in the world.

To read the rest of my article, click here.

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

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Happy Valentine’s Day From The Gay Groom

Valentine’s Day Card to The Husband

Your humble blogger had to put down his heart-shaped box of chocolates long enough to write his blog.

Valentine’s Day has gotten a bit of a bum rap lately.  People seemed to have turned on arrowed Cupid faster than Lady Gaga.

Yes, I get that Valentine’s Day is a pseudo-holiday made up by the greeting card, flower and chocolate industries.  Yes, I get we are being duped into spending money for trinkets we don’t need to express our feelings of affection.  Yes, I know Saint Valentine was, according to legend, imprisoned, beaten with clubs, stoned and ultimately had his head chopped off.

Not very romantic, I must say.

But that’s far too unpleasant and I like to keep my blogs positive.  So I choose not to dwell on the real and instead pretend to fall for all the sentimental nonsense, if just to get my aforementioned heart-shaped box of chocolates.

And your humble blogger has been blessed with the ability to view almost everything ironically (for example, the use of the word ‘blessed’ above was ironic).

This morning the Husband and I exchanged Valentine’s Day cards.

Luckily, we live in a city where it’s easy to pick up gay greeting cards.  I’m sure if we lived in Wyoming or Idaho (where Walmart is considered a distinguished luxury retailer) it could be a tad more difficult to get a gay-themed greeting card.  Though even then, I suppose with a little planning one could purchase a card on the internet for delivery from the many gay-positive greeting card companies out there.  It should be noted that these are often more expensive than straight themed cards.  I was told this was due to smaller print runs and not because these “gay-owned” or “gay-friendly” companies are just gouging us.… and since it’s Valentine’s Day, I’m willing to buy that (more irony).

Many straight men see Valentine’s Day as a day specifically for women (where the man must fork out for flowers, chocolate, cards etc. to women – or else) and I recently have heard of men creating a, dare I say, “tongue-in-cheek” movement to have March 14 (one month after Valentine’s Day) be a declared a day for women giving back to the men.   The proposed name of this day?  Steak and Blowjob Day.

Straight people can be amusing.

So tonight the husband and I will be headed to a restaurant in the gay village in Toronto for an overpriced romantic meal (I’m hoping they have Ontario lamb on the menu… or maybe the duck).  Not that we limit ourselves only to restaurants in the gay village, most of the time we don’t (as most of the food is terrible in the village).  But it was the Husband’s year to choose.

And after dinner, we’ll share a dessert at home.

Where, ironically, we don’t have to wait until March 14.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

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