There's really not a whole lot to report. It was harrowing, of course, and I kept not taking opportunities to start the talk, and I undoubtedly would have chickened out if my girlfriend hadn't been there keeping me strong.
It was a big milestone for me and my family, and she didn't really belong there because of that, but I needed her there for strength. She didn't say anything, except when I asked her to help me explain things. Just held my hand for encouragement.
I finally started the conversation after we four had played a couple of hands of Hearts. The parents just recently taught me to play Hearts; I've generally disliked card games, for no real reason, and, for a while, refused to have anything to do with them. In fact, the first time I told my parents that I liked girls, that conversation started with why I was so very opposed to trying a card game... but, bygones and sidetracks. Regardless.
I think I hit all the points I meant to. At least somewhat. Not sure how well.
They took it okay. Mom especially. She doesn't really get it, but she's ready to learn more. No worries there. With Dad it was a little more painful. He got that distance in his voice that he gets when he can't tell you what he's really thinking, and agreed with everything Mom said. There was something there that made it not enough when he said "I love you," something I couldn't place until later. The one really honest thing he said (no matter how true the others were) was the only part of that conversation to make me cry - "Does this mean I can't call you 'Sweetie' anymore?"
Before too long there was nothing left to immediately talk about, although a lot of talk has passed since then.
And Kaitlyn and I went and nerded out with our nerd friends at the Whovians meeting, and henna-tattooed cute couple-y things on each other in Gallifreyan, and spun around on the lawn and looked at the stars.
And later, in bed, I got my thoughts straight about Dad. Figured out what was wrong. That I was worried he didn't know it was still me, that him-and-me hadn't changed and hadn't been nullified and didn't need to be rebuilt. Worried that I'd have to prove myself to him somehow. Worried that he'd think he didn't know me, that he wouldn't be my dad the way he's always been.
So I cried into Kaitlyn's shoulder for a while, but it wasn't enough, so I woke up Dad and told him what I'd been worrying. Tried to communicate to him that him-and-me was and still is him-and-me, not just a generic father-daughter relationship that couldn't be father-daughter anymore. That he knew me as me, not just as some daughter person, and that "me" wasn't changing.
I don't know how much he understood, but at the very least it was important that we had that conversation. That I went to him when I was upset. We've still got a lot to work on, but now I feel like we can do it. It'll be okay. As okay as it's ever been. Eventually.
Mom has a lot to get used to, but I think she'll do well. Today she said that the main thing bothering her was that I wouldn't have children. But I will - it's very important to me, both to pass on my genes and to raise a child. I don't know how it's going to happen, but it will. Mom was genuinely reassured by that - even though she's always seen Thomas Beatty, the pregnant man, as some sort of freak.
So, lots still to work on, and I'm sure you'll be hearing more from me as progress progresses - but a good start. Thanks for helping make it possible, Oasis.