His Husband's Boyfriend

That time my husband met my boyfriend

Heauxclaimer: This piece is a messy work in progress. Most names have been changed. Also I didn’t see Challengers, but the visual kinda works, lol.

A few years ago, I was talking to my friend Minnie, who’s in a polyamorous relationship, about the dynamics between her and her husband’s girlfriend. She’s been with her husband, Max, since we were in college, and in recent years he started dating his girlfriend who moved in with them during the pandemic. I’ll never forget Minnie saying, “I thought I was supposed to be jealous, but really there’s someone helping with dishes, making meals, and keeping Max company when I don’t have the energy. I love it!” This planted a seed of curiosity in me. How many of our reactions are aligned with what we’re actually feeling, versus how we think we’re supposed to be feeling?

That’s a question I’d be returning to in all areas of life, but especially when planning an evening for my husband, Matthew, to meet my boyfriend, who I call Bun (as in “honey bun”-an inside joke having to do with our love of baked goods.) 

Let’s start by saying, I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. Nor did I really know what having a boyfriend would actually entail considering I’m already married. I’ve had a few friends who dated couples, knew a few couples who dated a third, and it always sounded complicated, messy, and perhaps…exciting. But I wasn’t sure it was for me. Or so I thought.

In 2017 I was following an author, Rex, and his photographer husband, Thatcher, on their separate Instagram accounts. I enjoyed both of their work and visible queerness. As I was falling deeper in love with my own queerness, I was becoming very intentional about who I was following on social media. I wanted to be diligent about following folx who inspire me, as opposed to folx who make me feel like I’m doing life wrong. One day, after a few months of following Rex and Thatcher, Thatcher posted a photo and caption that called into question everything I had been raised to believe about marriage. It was him, kissing a guy, that wasn’t Rex. In the caption he introduced this guy as his boyfriend. Of course I thought my favorite internet husbands had broken up, so I toggled quickly to Rex’s page. To my surprise, he had the same picture posted of Thatcher and the guy, and in his caption, introducing the boyfriend, Kris. But it wasn’t Rex and Thatcher’s boyfriend–the caption made clear that Kris was dating Thatcher, AND that Rex and Thatcher were also still together and very much in love. 

What. The. Actual. Fuck? 

Like, I know you fucking lyin! My brain could not compute this not threesome- threesome, as a possibility. As real. What was the catch?! There had to be a catch, right? Baby, I was tuned in–also now following Kris, cuz I was gonna keep up with these Kardashiqueens!  (lol, corny but you love it!)

Every time I would scroll and one of them would pop up in my feed, my curiosity continued to pique more and more. Looking for cracks in this abomination? This rebellion? This freedom? There’s a photo on Rex’s timeline, gushing over Thatcher and Kris’ relationship. A photo on Thatcher’s timeline of him and Rex celebrating their anniversary. A photo on Kris’ timeline hugging Rex and wishing him a happy birthday.  There’s another photo on all three of their accounts, posing at a night out. Everyone looked happy. Genuinely so. And for as much shit as they were getting in the comments section there wasn’t a reason to parade their untraditional set up if it wasn’t genuine. A year went by, then two, then three, and they were all still together, in a little polycule.   

During all of this, Matthew and I were maybe just opening our relationship, or about to. Nowhere near conversations of polyamory. But clearly I was intrigued by the abomination? The rebellion? The freedom?

The love.

It was the love that really charmed me. I couldn’t articulate it then because I had no data, or evidence, or representation to really pull from, but it was so romantic to me. More romantic than the rom coms I grew up watching like The Wedding Planner, When Harry Met Sally, Pretty Woman. In those, it was always guy meets girl, guy loses girl, guy finds girl, guy marries girl. I was always curious about what happened after though.  After Happily Ever After. Rex and Thatcher’s version of Happily Ever After that expanded to include a brand new love story, was…sweet. After the initial shock, it elicited an “awwww”, the same ones my straight girlfriends released at the end of a Sex and the City movie night. 

In 2022, in our fourth year of being open, and after a year of my situationship with Tyler, and Matthew’s situationship of his own, we began discussing the idea of polyamory. Of dating people as opposed to just sleeping with them. But honestly we didn’t know what that looked like.  We did know that we wouldn’t date someone together. The emotional management of that felt like it would be a lot more than we were willing to take on. Hubby and I can spend the whole night trying to figure out what we want to watch on Netflix, so I can’t even imagine trying to get on the same page about who to fuck, let alone being in a romantic partnership with them. 

From my year with Tyler, I learned it was best to only be with partners who identified as non-monogamous or polyamorous.  That said, oftentimes those partners were still single and there would come a point in our situationship (because no one ever wanted to call it “dating”), that feelings would grow and they’d express some version of wanting or needing me in a way that would require me to abandon my marriage (which is the opposite of non-monogamy, btw). Or in an attempt to flex their independence they would randomly become shitty at communicating. I was hanging with a guy once, who decided to completely flake on plans we made. It was such uncharacteristic behavior that I called him out on it, and he admitted he was trying to “assert his freedom.” I find it fascinating how in dating, we often abandon communication as a way to protect our hearts, completely disregarding the heart of the other person. Listen, no relationship is perfect, and especially when you’re going against the norms and building something untraditional. Fuck ups should be expected. But after a few too many, I thought it best if I chilled on the “dating” or situations. Best to stay open to fun and leave my heart out of it. Of course, that’s when I met Bun. 

Last October, I was at the gym, doing my long skincare routine.  I say “long” but only because most of the men at the gym shower and then MAYBE put on some lotion, before changing into clean clothes. Some put back on the same sweaty gym clothes, which just gags me. But ya know, to each their own, or whatever the saying is. Me tho?! I gotta apply the beard products for ingrown hairs, before moisturizing, then hair products, face products, more beard products, more face products, and seal it with a splash of a signature scent. Needless to say it takes me some time. 

One afternoon, as I’m putting on the first moisturizer, I look down at my phone to check how much time I have before I need to be in the car and off to a meeting. When I look back up and into the mirror, I lock eyes with this beautiful man, wearing all black, with a low baseball cap, crossing behind me. The way he looked at me, had me gasping for water. Bitch, my throat was parched! Before I could even decide if I should say something to him he was already out of the locker room. You know, I loaded up the Grindr to see if I could find him. Boop! “547 feet away.”  I scrolled through his profile of shirtless jockstrap photos and immediately thought, “Oh, I’m gonna fuck him.” His Grindr had a link to his instagram, and once I got there and saw his photos, AND that he was a dancer, I was like, “OH! I HAVE to fuck him.” So I sent him a Grindr message. He responded and suggested we move the convo to Instagram DMs. I gave him my instagram handle, and of course I acted like I didn’t already know his. Gotta play it cool, honey.  We exchanged a few polite messages, and then nothing. 

Maybe a week or two later, I was off to Amsterdam for a solo trip. I had been battling some depression, health stuff, and really big questions about the trajectory of my life.  It was the kinda trip that they make movies starring white women about. The ones where at some point, she’s on the floor of a hotel shower, weeping as she reflects on the things she has to overcome. Me and the floor of that Amsterdam shower got intimate. The walls of my hotel room heard some tears baby! Much needed release. Much needed clarity. Much needed rest. The trip was so transformative that I honestly forgot Bun even existed. That is until I got back to LA and saw him at the gym again. This time, working out. Have you ever drooled involuntarily in your adulthood? Cuz, I have. A lot honestly, cuz men can be so hot. Highly recommend avoiding them if you can, but tis a lost cause for me. 

I walked over and introduced myself to him. I think I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve made the first move toward a guy. And never at the gym. But I just had to make contact with him off the apps and IRL. I was nervous because he’s about my size but with an icy face. When I walked over to him and said hello, I expected a low pitched masc bro response, but instead, he smiled big, and his voice was soft. Not soft as in quiet, soft as in, you probably got teased about how you sound by the boys in your school growing up. Probably grew up hating your voice because it gave you away as queer. Probably spent a lot of time trying to change it so that you could feel normal, but eventually gave up. Soft. 

I love a soft voice. Nothing makes the hairs on my arms raise more than a soft voice. Probably because I had my own struggle with a soft voice growing up. Hated my voice. But I love it now. And I love it every time I hear a soft voice out in the wild. 

We resumed our messaging. He told me about being a dancer, and I asked him what his favorite genre was. He said, “if I’m being honest, heels”. Swoon. We kept messaging— about dance, writing, music, and of course relationships. Turns out he was also in one. Fuck yes!  Music to my ears. Emotionally him having a partner was perfect. But the caveat was since we both had partners, it would be difficult to have sexy time because neither of us ever really had our places to ourselves.  As a solution, I suggested we go to the gay spa where we could chat, and also touch dicks. The dream. Maybe a week later, I picked him up from his place in my red jeep. Admittedly I was feeling myself when I pulled up in front of his building. The sun was shining, I had just worked out so the arms were giving, and also I had no expectations, so my energy— like my voice— was soft. I texted Bun that I was outside, and moments later, emerging from the iron gates of his apartment building, was this bright light of a human dressed in all black, with a pair of sunnies to match. Me, drooling, again. He hopped into the passenger seat and I pulled off from the curb. Our conversation was easy. We discussed the Renaissance tour, because I was obviously playing the album. Of course he approved. Would have dropped him off at the corner if he didn’t!  

We got to the spa, smoked a joint in the parking lot, and made our way in. For the two hours we were there, we honestly just talked. There was some kissing, but mostly it was talking. Finally I looked up and realized I had to go. Sad, because it felt like we just got there.  I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I remember expressing to him even if nothing sexual comes of us, we should be friends. I have a really tight group of friends, so I don’t be adding new ones unless someone’s soul inspires my own. Bun’s did just that. And I truly would have been satisfied if we just became friends. In those two hours together, I was taken by his brain, heart, and spirit. Taken by his values and how he lives. Moved by his generosity and dreams. 

We agreed we wanted to see each other again. And so we did. I felt okay doing that because he already had a partner. That means we can have sex, and if it’s as good as our messages are leading me to believe it will be, we can keep hanging without worrying about whether having a partner will become a source of conflict.  Also, it took power away from me–in a good way. A great way. Here’s what I mean by that. Whether it’s addressed or not, there seems to be a power that the partner in a relationship has that the single person doesn’t. At least this is what previous partners or friends of mine in non-monogamous relationships have expressed. I’ve had it described to me as a “safety net.” Or “emotional security.” I think with time and lots of communication the power imbalance or the feeling of it can dissipate. But that takes a kind of work that you can’t enter into lightly, and you probably want to know that you like each other A LOT, before you attempt. Personally I want to be swimming in a sea of green flags before I even consider that kind of work. Bun ended up being an ocean of them. Not because he was “better” than the guys I hung out with before him, but we were just in the right phases of our lives to connect easily and deeply. In a way that felt new and yet overwhelmingly safe. 

One of the poly guidelines Matthew and I have for ourselves, is we only talk to each other about boys of note. I’ll explain, but let me say, that how Matthew and I construct our relationship is tailored to us. Another polyamorous couple likely has a completely different blueprint. And should. Because they are not us.  If you are considering non-monogamy or polyamory please know that the “correct” way is whatever feels good to you and your partners--whatever feels additive, safe, and secure. So Matthew and I only talk to one another about boys of note. All that means is it’s someone we’ve probably hung out with a handful of times, and are enjoying their company. Bun quickly fell into that category and Matthew was very supportive. Excited for me.

Like I said, I had no intentions of having a boyfriend. It felt like more work than I was equipped for. A husband, dog, career, and myself are enough to manage. Honestly, Bun and I were just hanging. Very friends with benefits. But also half the time, due to neither of our places being available with partners at home, there weren’t a lot of “benefits” happening. And it was starting to feel like more than friends. Like, love. But labels didn’t really matter because we were in our own little bubble. We were just, us.  A few months in though, we were beginning to talk to our friends and families about each other and it was feeling weird referring to Bun as my “friend”. He also wasn’t my “fuck buddy”. “Lover” felt like a term that meant sex was the primary connection. Something about classifying our connection by “friendship” or “sex” felt undermining. Historically, Matthew and I would refer to guys we were hanging out with regularly as “partners”, but Bun’s partner wanted that term reserved for their relationship. As a writer, I understand the value of a word’s meaning, and respect that just because Matthew and I were comfy with a term like “partner” doesn’t mean everyone is.

Boyfriend has always held so much weight to it. At first I had a resistance to it. I was already Matthew’s boyfriend at one point, what would it mean to be someone’s boyfriend while being Matthew’s spouse? Also–I’m non-binary, and these terms are so gendered, but saying this is my “theyfriend” will likely require more explanation, and for me there was already enough going on with the polyamory without having to also give a gender studies and linguistics dissertation. Ultimately, boyfriend felt like the word that could most easily explain who Bun and I are to each other. It was interesting to give ourselves a label, not for us, but to signal how we want to be seen by others. In past eras of dating, labels like boyfriend were expected. It was what I yearned for. Wanted to work towards. But in this current era, this chapter with Bun, boyfriend was decorative? A choice?  Clarity? Whatever it was, Bun’s partner was comfy with the language, so I had a convo with Matthew about it. He too was comfy, and so we began using it. 

Though the initial reasoning was about how to talk to others about our relationship, I have to admit there was something about boyfriend that made us giddy. Something so high school romance about donning this label that signals we were  “going steady”. Something healing about getting to just enjoy the romance. Though we had romance at home with our respective partners, it was mixed in with the realities of the domestic. Which is its own beautiful thing, but also a very layered thing.  With each other though, it could literally just be romance. This very gay, queer, gender fluidy, Beyoncé listening, good food eating, weed smokey, heart opening, romance. Boyfriend for me, also made polyamory very real. 

Up until Bun, polyamory felt theoretical. It felt like Matthew and I were open to it. Valued it. Identified as poly, even. But weren’t necessarily engaging in that dynamic quite yet. It was such a new sensation. On one hand there’s the joy and pleasure of it, on the other there’s all the societal messaging causing me to question if I was doing the right thing. Is it insane of me to have a husband AND a boyfriend? Am I being “greedy?” Careless? Reckless? Or could this perhaps be what freedom feels like? Freedom to build a life for you as opposed to living the life imposed on you by societal norms and expectations? Funny how even if you’re doing something that works for you, self-judgment can still show up to sully the party. We are so hardwired from the playground to believe that if other people aren’t also doing what you're doing, then what you’re doing is not “cool”. So I checked in with myself constantly. Interrogating our relationship. Poking holes. Trying to find reasons for it to not work, but never able to produce one. I checked in with Bun and Matthew about their feelings often. Waiting for someone to say they were unhappy or dissatisfied. But there were no fires to put out, no apologies to be made, no fears to assuage. 

A couple years ago, as our open relationship (which to us meant hook ups) turned into non-monogamy (which to us meant emotional connection with others) Matthew asked if I’d ever meet the guy he was hanging with at the time. I was opposed to it. Didn’t see it as necessary. It wasn’t wrong that he asked, I just wasn’t ready for that quite yet.  Thankfully Matthew didn’t push it, or make it a bad thing that I wasn’t ready. We both quietly understood, things take time and that’s okay. Again for any non-monogamy or polyamorous newbies, it’s okay to take things really slow. You’re growing new limbs, and you’ll need to crawl before you can even think about running. To that end, Bun’s partner wasn’t ready to meet me and I didn’t take that personal. But I did want Bun to meet Matthew. As Bun was becoming more important to me, it felt necessary to include Matthew in that. Necessary for Matthew to know him and for him to know Matthew. I wasn’t expecting for them to become best friends, but these are two people I love and who love me. So, I wanted them to meet.

To be continued….

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