OK, and also this weird retconing is just completely unnecessary. Santana and Brittany are broken up. They’ve been broken up. They don’t live in the same city. Brittany doesn’t even exist on this show right now. It’s not like they have to sabotage her character to make the audience root for Santana and a new love interest. But not just unnecessary. It’s reckless too. And it’s irresponsible. It devalues the honesty and depth and white-hot loyalty of Santana and Brittany’s relationship, and it perpetuates all the bullshit stereotypes bisexual people face every damn day.
And why? Why is this even a thing? Watch this:
Dani: What about you? Do you have a lady-love?
Santana: I did. In high school. I’ll always love her, but she’s off at MIT doing rocket science or something now.
Santana: Oh my God, she’s so pretty I’m getting that panic boob sweat thing! I knew Brittany my whole life; we just fit together, you know? And Quinn, well we were always going to sleep together at least once. But this is a brand new, scary thing!
Rachel: Girl, look at you. Look at you in those boots. Get over there and butter that muffin.
I don’t understand Glee‘s writers. I really don’t. They’re like if really talented chefs prepared a four-course, five-star meal and right before they served it to you, literally every single time before they set the plate down on the table, they were like, “You know what’ll make this taste even better? If I spit in it.” And then you’re like, “Wow, gross. It looks good and smells good but all I can think about is how you fucking spit in it.” And they’re like, “God! We slave and slave and slave over these dinners and you’ll never be happy!” And you’re like, “I would be happy if you’d just stop spitting in the food!” And they’re like, “You hate all food!” And you’re like, “No, you asshole. I love food. I love your food. I just hate spit in my food.” And they’re like, “OK, here’s the same dish served a different way. And also here is my spit in it.” And you’re like, “Seriously? I can’t eat here anymore.” And they’re like, “Stupid angry lesbians.”
Just make the meal and stop spitting in it, Glee! Jesus, how hard can that possibly be?!
After a long day and a long shift, Dani invites Santana to sit with her and watch the sun rise over the city. In fact, she thinks they’d make sweet music together on this perfect morning. They duet on “Here Comes the Sun” and they sound amazing together and they look amazing together and at Dani’s doorstep, she gives Santana a quick peck on the lips and promises so much more so very soon. With her words and with her body language, she promises that.
But it’s not all rainbows and new love and a suddenly paralyzing fear of terrifying bisexuals for Santana Lopez. She’s also got herself a lifetime supply of Yeast-I-Stat. Apparently that’s the payment she accepted when she signed the contract for her commercial. Rachel laughs. She realizes it’s going to be OK, after all. Maybe she won’t land Funny Girl. But she’s here. In the greatest city in the world. She’s making it. She’s surrounded by two people who love her an awful lot. (Kurt works here now too!) And now she’ll never have to worry about yeasty bagels. Just when she’s made her peace with not landing her first Broadway gig, Peter Facinelli shows up and tells her she’s landed her first Broadway gig: “Congratulations, Rachel Berry. You are Fanny Brice.”
Lima and New York join hands across the miles (and Dani and Santana join hands in real life) and perform a really excellent cover of “Let It Be.”
Let it be, let be. Let it be, let it be. Stop spitting in my pasta, frikkin’ Glee.
Next week: We say goodbye to The Quarterback.