There's that trust thing, again. Janine trusts her family (perhaps naively) and so Shaun is willing to support her worldview. He would like a world where he can safely pick his way over flatware and climb up a breadbasket to make himself heard, without being seen as a selection. He doesn't necessarily want to look up into a thicket of old-man nasal hairs, but sure, he'd like to have conversations with other people about anything other than "wow, you sure are small". He'd like to hear the life stories of his girlfriend's grandparents; he'd like to hear how his future nieces and nephews are doing in school, what classes they like, what their music means to them. He'd like to engage without being dunked in the gravy or having someone accidentally tug his leg off or get snatched by someone's infant and popped into their mouth while all the giants laugh at his predicament.

Sometimes meeting another Tiny is like hanging out at the VFW: the conversations are limited in range, urgent, repetitive, predictable. There's no talking about TV shows or where they'd like to travel, it's always a breathless exchange of horror stories or advice or way, way too personal information. Shaun's all, "I am more than the fraction of your parts," and he seeks a normal life with his loving girlfriend.