The love that dared not speak its name is now broadcasting,” said Andrew Solomon, the arch Manhattan socialite, dapper author and intellect, as he wandered the grounds of Althorp, the Spencer family estate, on June 30. You can imagine Diana’s ghost looking from beneath hooded lids with a sly wink of approval. Solomon had just wed his partner of six years, the journalist John Habich, in a ceremony presided over by Christian and Jewish ministers, the former of which, during his sermon, urged the couple to “remain outré”.

It was, without doubt, the gay wedding of the season. The 300 guests numbered both grooms’ families, heads of media and big business and a generous sprinkling of celebrities, including Uma Thurman. The celebrations lasted three days, with guests driven about in horse-drawn carriages by people in 18th-century dress. Habich went for traditional attire, while Solomon wore a bespoke Savile Row Indian tunic. In terms of fancy nuptials, it made Liz Hurley’s look like Kerry Katona’s. At the end of the party, the happy couple drove off in an army tank painted pink for the occasion. Romance, it seems, is alive and well among “the gays”.

This was just the latest in a long line of lavish ceremonies since the Civil Partnership Act was introduced a year and half ago. Elton John and David Furnish gave it their quasi-regal stamp of approval almost as soon as the act came in, with a party that generated more press coverage than the nuptials of Charles and Camilla. Since then, Matt Lucas and his partner of three years, Kevin McGee, have followed, with a pantomime-themedfancy-dress party at London’s swanky Home House. Guests included Babs Windsor (Fairy Godmother) and Courtney Love (Queen of Hearts). Pete Burns married in full geisha-girl look of kimono, stark make-up and black hair. His partner wore clogs. Of course, where there are gay men, there is, inevitably, opulence. And so the civil-partnership ceremonies have reflected an image – sometimes clichéd, often true – of gay men as premiership party people.

There have been pink marquees, first pole-dances to Kylie, plane-loads of friends flown off to Ibizan villas, bachelor parties at Chariots sauna and chemical wedding “breakfasts”.

The original government projection of 20,000 “married” gays by 2010 has been reached already, and there has been a large number of Americans coming over to seal their deal. Already, more than 60m pink pounds have been spent on the ceremonies. One wedding planner I spoke to said she was touting for gay business, and it wasn’t just for the money. “They do tend to be a lot more fun,” she said.

But 18 months is a long time on the gay-male clock. Beneath the ballast and bluster of the occasion, it is the emotional fallout that is really the measure of the success of the Civil Partnership Act. If straight weddings are lent a sombre dignity by suggesting they are the end of a couple’s partying years before moving on to the next chapter, gay weddings gain an uproarious élan by suggesting that they are the peak of theirs – and what then?

Gay couples have never had the role model of an institutionalised relationship. If the defiant hedonism of gay men has been about asserting some kind of cultural authority, then just the words “civil partnership” are a complete anathema. There’s an old joke in the gay world that goes like this: what does a lesbian bring on her second date? Her furniture. What does a gay man bring on his second date? Second what? If lesbians double their nesting instincts when they meet a life partner, gay men double their testosterone. It’s a potentially messy business, and one that has been put under a microscope in the dust-settling period since the act was passed. Since the first dissolution of a partnership earlier this year, there have been many more applications.

Gay men are having to process what their relationships mean and how much they parry with the straight societal norm. I didn’t meet a gay couple until I was 17 years old. I had the benefit of going through a gay adolescence in Manchester at a time – the 1980s – when it was “cool” to be gay. Even now, two decades later, I know of only one gaycouple that has managed to make the 10-year mark. Gay males of a certain age understand that they will be left to plough their own furrow. The absence of a womb is just the beginning of all this.

The debate rages on in the gay world as to whether the personal decision to institutionalise our relationships is a good or a bad thing. Of course, we need the legal premise to protect us. But what of t emotional premise? If you’ve grown up without the possibility of something, to then be offered it shines a scary light on matters. I know couples who have split up over the civil-partnership issue, some of whom I had considered lifers. “It makes you think what a lifetime together might mean,” says a recently single friend, “and whether you want it.” He paused for a second: “Or whether you do, in actual fact, believe it is possible.”

Perhaps reflecting this, we ought to have a moment’s silence in remembrance of the sobering case of Mark Godfrey and Darryl Bullock. They were the first gay-male couple to legally dissolve their civil partnership in Bath earlier this year. “Being one of the first gay men to enjoy the right to a civil partnership was a truly exceptional experience,” said Bullock, “but being the first man to apply for dissolution was not a role that I sought or cherish.”

Still, onward and upwards, kiddo. The party doesn't end here.

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