I got back my homophobic father by pretending to have a boyfriend and bringing him over for Christmas dinner.

Here's what happened.

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Ever since I can remember, I've been completely and utterly under the thumb of my father.

All of us have been.

Us being me, my younger brother, little sister and my mother.

My father is a raging jerk.

A male chauvinist over the top macho type of guy.

And growing up, I've always been the victim of his dislike.

Because I didn't really fit in with his image of the ideal son.

I was, for lack of a better word, a bit of a girly boy growing up.

I wanted nothing more than to dance and frolic around in dresses.

When I was four or five, my mother had this big box of dress up clothes.

She brought it down from the attic and I immediately picked out the prettiest,

frilliest golden-colored dress I could find.

I pranced around in it and declared myself a princess.

And that I was now a girl.

This went on for a few months.

But strictly during the day when my father was away at work.

I watched ballet videos with my mother.

A soft, spoken and open-minded woman who worked part-time as a social worker in those days.

I was happy, careless.

...