I’ll tell them I’m spending Christmas dinner with you. Either here or at your apartment. I can’t say it would be as good, but I’ve learned a few things over the years.
You have nothing to apologize for, Tom. This is classism and sexism at its finest, and I won’t have a part of it if they try and tell me my heart is wrong simply because you weren’t born a certain way.
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If I felt inclined to cut them any slack, I suppose I could say they haven't seen you like I have, but I don't feel inclined to do that at all.
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Not the whole lot. Just your family.
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Still. I never thought I would hear you say it.
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Should I take it back?
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No. I’d rather hope someday we can all get over this, and I can you and them.
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I'll do as much as I can to make and keep that possible.
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Do you want to - rehearse, I suppose, what we're going to say? Leave less room for... uncomfortable openings, I guess.
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And if they just say no?
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Alright, then.
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I'm sorry you have to deal with this.
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Less an apology, more an expression of regret. I don't want to make Christmas involve a fight for you.
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That makes things simple, since you're what I want for Christmas.
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