As I worked on this piece, I received a rare WhatsApp notification on my phone. What did it say? Stay tuned, but first:
Ever imagine your life as a sitcom? Like most writers with Main Character Syndrome, I do all the time. I reflect on my setting, my episodic plots, my seasonal arcs, and the supporting cast making life more interesting. However minor the role these recurring characters play, one thing is certain: they shape our universe, for better or worse.
Often, my daily episodes start in a setting familiar to many: a coffee shop greeting me with the aroma of freshly ground beans and the chatter of patrons ready to seize their day. Well, that’s the romanticized version, anyway. Since I work late at a bar, it’s usually early afternoon by the time I stroll in. By now the morning rush is long gone while I’m in disheveled clothes that may as well be pajamas, but regardless, my day’s first recurring character remains: my barista, Spencer.
With Technicolor dreads, anime memorabilia, and punny Steven Rhodes T-shirts, it’s evident Spencer marches to the beat of their own drum. It makes sense, then, that Spencer became a welcomed friend when I moved into the neighborhood during the pandemic. Our encounters often made the 10-minute walk worth the overpriced cold brew.
Yet as I got to know Spencer, I found myself confused by their relationship status. They would recount their weekend speaking of their boyfriend, their daughter, their girlfriend, their partner, or their other partner. At first, I figured my memory was shit (partially true), until I finally learned that Spencer is in a polyamorous relationship.
Over the years, the term “poly” has been casually tossed into relationship conversations. Typically, the natural follow-up is, “what exactly is poly?” Turns out polyamory is a catchall term, so poly relationships can take various configurations. Open relationships, throuples, and even polygamy can be considered polyamorous, but the common theme is this: polyamory rejects the notion of a singular love in life and accepts that people can love multiple partners at the same time. Now polyamory is so widespread your barista might even partake, proving these days your relationship is about as customizable as your latte.
So, how exactly do these relationships start? It’s hard enough for me to get serious with one person, let alone two or more. Through my conversations I learned it’s a gradual count as simple as one, two, three. This was the case for Spencer, since their boyfriend and girlfriend were a couple before they entered the picture. “We had some mutual friends who introduced us,” Spencer told me. “We talked on and off for about a year and a half before they invited me over for dinner and vibes, which led to us hanging out more and more, until my boyfriend asked me to join the relationship.”
Earlier this year, I read an article in the Atlantic about the rise of polyamory, which described the lifestyle as a luxury of the elite. “From their gilded pedestals,” wrote the author of the rich, “they declare polyamory superior to monogamy.” From what I see, however, this is simply untrue. Perhaps our awareness of polyamory coincided with online images shared by the elite, but that doesn’t make it elite-only. Case in point: Spencer has been in their polyamorous relationship for nearly three years.
Moreover, Spencer is not an exception. Beyond baristas, coworkers appear in our sitcoms more often than friends or family sometimes. In a previous piece I wrote about Kelsey, our bar’s stylish door girl, who I learned was in a polyamorous relationship nearly a decade ago, exploring the trend before the trend was a trend.
Like Spencer, Kelsey’s throupling didn’t happen overnight. “Back in college, I was exploring my bisexuality but hadn’t come out yet,” said Kelsey. “I started casually dating a guy who casually dropped the bombshell that he was in an open relationship. I saw a picture of his partner and knew I had to meet her. When we finally met, sparks flew, and the three of us started hanging out. Before long, we were inseparable.”
And Just Like That, Kelsey’s sitcom went from “Felicity” to “Three’s Company.” What I didn’t know until recently was the extra curveball thrown in. “Fast forward,” she started, “they got pregnant, and we were all raising the baby together.”
I was surprised to find not one but two polyamorous relationships raising a child. This might sound messy, but it works better than I thought. “We run into a lot of the challenges most monogamous parents run into,” Spencer explained. “The main benefit I’d say is that [our daughter] has three parents who love and support her, will defend her, and will always take care of her. She has three people she can talk to or cry to, and we have all different opinions and experiences, so we’re able to give her unique advice or teachings.”
This highlights another important aspect of polyamorous relationships: they are often more than fleeting affairs. To reach this label requires serious thought, deep conversation, and mutual agreement. The rest of us can snicker or balk at these triads all we want, but they easily become as serious as monogamous couplings, if not more so.
In fact, polyamory can even resolve the woes of monogamy. “I used to feel the pressure of having to be everything to one partner,” said Kelsey, “and vice versa, but with two partners, that weight lifted. If one partner wanted to do an activity I didn’t want to, they could enjoy those activities together while I got to opt-out guilt-free.”
Interestingly, while poly is considered solidly queer, homosexual relations are not a requirement. For both Kelsey and Spencer, there was at least one in their trio who remained heterosexual. This is because throuples often find a balance enabling all involved to be their optimal sexual selves. “I didn’t know at the time,” Kelsey recounted, “but I’m definitely a vers and got to express both my submissive and dominant sides.” This makes sense, for sexual dynamics are complex. It can be a tall order to expect one person to satisfy everything we want.
That said, polyamory doesn’t come without its own complications, one being the perceptions of others. “My mom didn’t really understand our dynamic at first,” said Spencer, “but once I explained our dynamic, she’s been super supportive. I have run into judgment from strangers who have ‘traditional’ family values.”
This echoed Kelsey’s experience. “When we moved in together, my friends were initially shocked but ultimately accepting. For work events or family gatherings, it was always stressful figuring out if it was OK for all of us to go or only two.”
And as in all relationships, emotions are entangled, which ultimately ended Kelsey’s experience. “After about two years, I noticed the romance between the two of them started to fizzle. Their date nights became as rare as a unicorn sighting, eventually disappearing altogether. I felt like a referee in a never-ending match of jealousy and tension.” Naturally, more people mean more feelings to manage, so the work that relationships require never truly goes away.
Relationship drama — now that I can relate to, bringing me back to WhatsApp. The notification turned out to be a message from a special friend in South Africa. He and I met nearly a decade ago, when I studied abroad in the UK. Our chemistry was instant, and although we live separate lives in separate places, we’ve managed time for friendly banter, romantic getaways and, on occasion, a quasi-lovers quarrel, which was the case just over a year ago.
We have barely spoken since our spat, yet here he was reaching out with an apology. I promptly apologized back. We both recognized that, at the end of the day, we still care about one another.
So, as I wrote this piece like some anthropologist analyzing a vastly different polyamorous culture, it struck me how the notion of “many loves” may not be as distant as I thought. I, like many queers, have experienced romantic connections that never truly went away. These few individuals check in on me, consistently root for me, and refuse to turn their back on me, even if we go a while without speaking. They know me well, often better than family, and they’re almost always worth an apology.
I’d venture to say most of us have this kind of recurring character in our sitcoms. Perhaps someone comes to mind as you read this. Perhaps they’ve stayed in your orbit because the best is yet to come or, like Janice to Chandler or that creepy scientist to Phoebe, to help clarify what you truly want.
Perhaps, then, we’re all a little polyamorous, and the details of how and when we balance the loves of our lives are trivial at best. A polyamorous society of queers and queers-adjacent? Now that’s a twist I can get behind.
Jake Stewart is a D.C.-based writer and barback.
