He finally came home, late, long after he'd phoned home to see about supper, long after my younger brother dropped off "Scarface" that the 3 of us watched, long after my bro left 15 minutes into it to go home, while the movie was 2.50 hours into it. He scooped some food onto his plate and plunked down beside me, shovelling the vegan scalloped potatoes into his mouth. I kept an eye on it, checking to see if he could tell the difference between vegan and "normal" food that he always ribs me about. I could tell he's borderline joking and dismissive about no meat in anyone's diet. He regards me as crazy, in his own way. "What are you going to do when you cook for your husband?".

He can be so offensive in one sentence.

If I were straight, why would he assume I'd pick a husband who'd expect me to slave over him and do all the cooking? Or even pick a meat-eater who's intolerant of vegans/vegetarians?

He bugs me about veganism: imagine if he bugged me about being a lesbian?

When I gave that woman yesterday my phone number, I had this slight fear that she'd phone while I wasn't home. My dad would answer and she'd say, "I'm the Lesbian your daughter meet on the internet!"

I don't even want to imagine what he'd do. It sounds like I'm afraid of my dad, like I were a child, but there are some people you just don't press certain buttons on. My finger is sometimes itching to poke at it, just to "drop the other shoe", but there'd be no turning back on that one, and I'd have to live with the consequences. If I didn't live at home, there'd be slightly less fear involved. Hell, I was anxious on the Greyhound ride when I was moving back, knowing full well that hiding my sexuality would take up some of my energy, knowing the suspense of when/how he'll clue in, would occupy a portion of my brain that could be used for something liberating.

So, after he asks me that question, I say, "Who says I'd want a meat-eater?" then he starts grumbling as he keeps on shovelling away at his plate.

Times like these, I think of a song from Was Not Was called, "Hello Dad, I'm In Jail", but I'd call it, "Hello Dad, I'm a Lesbian!", and I'd be shouting it, Strolling in the Dyke March in Seattle, with a strap-On and a First-Nations (he has a hate-on for them) woman at the end of my tongue (which end is up to your imagination)like I were drumming the point into his intolerant brain.

It also made me think of joining some human rights association, just so he'd go on and on about "Those people" and the racial slurrs he'd utter until he collapsed from a heart attack. If we weren't related, I don't know what I'd think of him if I rode in his cab and he vented his racist/homophobic/sexist crap at me. It's almost shameful to be related to someone who thinks like that. Makes me sad. When someone demands your respect that happens to spew the most offensive things without apology, what are you suppose to think about that person? My brothers and I use to ask my mom, "Why did you marry him?" when we were little.

There's a list that asks 5 questions when considering a partner worthy of marriage:

1.Could you imagine waking up to this person for the rest of your life?

2.Would you bring someone like this home to your parents?

3.Would you want to have kids with this person?

4.Would you want your kids to have this person's characteristics?

5.Would you want your kids to bring someone home who had this person's characteristics?

I pity my brothers, especially their future in-laws who end up meeting my dad, coming away traumatized.