Dinner. Some fantastically, um, "entrenched suburbanite" (trust me, that's a really nice way of saying something without me trotting out an expression no one wants to hear me use) casserole is spatulaed onto plates as we discover why ambiguous Uncle Steve has been invited: for his fantastic manual dexterity. (In fact, both myself and my friend Beth, with whom I watched this episode, didn't even remember that poor Uncle Steve was even AT the first dinner.) Santa kicks it off with questions, asking Matthew if his intentions were good coming into this whole mess. "I'm to the point where I don't really date casually," Matthew responds sincerely, furrowing his brow. Wait. Hang on. Just creating a macro for the words "Matthew responds sincerely, furrowing his brow." I've got a strange feeling I'm going to be needing it. Santa Dad asks what the "connection" is between the two of them, because reality television has become a meta-language unto itself at this point, like Esperanto or the plot of the "Toxic" video. And also, because he knew if he asked about Matthew's "journey," the poor boy would only see fit to respond, "You mean, from farm boy to Glamour Boy? Well, see, it all started on a simple scratch of land back in Friendswood, Texas." But instead, they sit rapt as Matthew responds sincerely, furrowing his brow, droning on about how he feels when Meredith looks at him. He feels very fortunate that he's stayed in the game even this long. "Because she can axe me any time she wants!" Even the usually pensive Uncle Steve gets a rousing chuckle out of that one. In the absence of knowing anything about him, I'm just going to ascribe random personality characteristics to Uncle Steve. Earlier, he was "usually pensive." Now I see him as "cautiously boyish." And later, "made of chunky peanut butter."