What I Learned After Coming Out as Monogamous

Bettmann

I’ve had to come out many times in my life. As a mixed-race trans faggot who can very much give dyke, it has become almost second nature at this point to explain what my deal is at a moment’s notice. But what I never expected was the amount of coming out I would have to do after my partner and I decided to delve into uncharted terrain: monogamy.

Allow me to share some context: I’m no non-monogamy hater. For my entire adult life, I have engaged with some level of relationship openness, and sometimes polyamorous dating structures. The same is true for my partner, so when we first started dating two and a half years ago, it was business as usual for the two of us. I was emerging from a long-term relationship, they were casually dating, and our relationship was open. But after about six months, as our other connections came to natural ends, the surprising urge for monogamy struck. I didn’t want to hook up with anyone else, and felt fully focused on my partner. I could be still with them in a way I’ve never felt, and to this day I feel fully content.

For years, I had prioritized having multiple sexual and romantic attractions in an effort to not put all my eggs into one metaphorical basket. Monogamy didn’t ever feel like an option so I never pursued it, and that was totally fine with me. Staying open remained the unspoken default. But one evening a couple summers ago, we broached the topic. That night, we discussed seeing multiple people, thinking that’s what we both wanted for each other. Then, after a silence long enough to suggest we were holding something back, I asked, “So, do you want to just… see each other?” After another pause, they said, “I do.” And the rest is history.

The most unexpected consequence of transitioning to monogamy has less to do with our relationship itself, and more to do with how our relationship is now perceived by others. Even in doing loose research for this article, I had some difficulty explaining what that judgement can look like in a world that — outside of certain queer spaces — still prioritizes monogamy as the only acceptable option. As I explained that I was writing about my shifting relationship status to some new friends during a queer night out, they couldn’t wrap their heads around it. How could a T4T couple whose relationship already pushed against so many societal expectations not just take the full leap into polyamory? “I just feel like monogamy instils so much jealousy and so many rules into a relationship,” one person told me.

They aren’t the first to say it. I’ve even heard people go as far as to claim that “Monogamy is the new straight.” Which, no, it literally isn’t? Beyond it being an unfair comparison, casting queer monogamy as an inherently less enlightened, less liberated way to live is just untrue. Yes, the U.S. makes it harder to live as a single or non-monogamous person than in a couple unit. Compulsory monogamy is absolutely a driving force that closes off options for people who might otherwise want to explore them. And as much as it may not seem this way in Bushwick, coupled queers are still largely monogamous, at least of those who participate in sociological surveys. But just because polyamory can be framed as less normative within these structures doesn't justify looking down on those within our community who find monogamy works best for them.

To me, non-monogamy and monogamy are both value-neutral: neither is inherently more liberated or righteous or easy to do on an interpersonal level. In the same way that monogamous relationships can come with their challenges, and can replicate jealousy, abuse, or broader structures of oppression, so can non-monogamous relationship structures. As anyone who’s been polyamorous long enough can tell you, it’s not perfect, either; people are inherently flawed, so there will always be glitches in the ways we connect with each other. That’s why I think everybody deserves to love and organize their life the way that feels the best and most intentional to them.

For me, practicing intentional monogamy has actually given me a newfound freedom and space in my life to prioritize friendships and non-romantic connections. Before, I found myself split in a lot of directions, making time for the myriad of relationships I was juggling and being far less caring toward my platonic friends. I missed FaceTime calls, soft ghosted texts, and overall, just wasn’t the most emotionally present pal. Becoming monogamous actually gave me the ability to connect more deeply, both with my partner, my friends, and myself.

Still, my partner and I have faced some challenges while participating in queer spaces as a monogamous couple. One humid evening during the famously hot and personally horny summer of 2022, we sat in the packed yard at Ginger’s, a historic Brooklyn lesbian bar, and made conversation with a couple who seemed like they wanted to be friends. We were seemingly hitting it off when they mentioned they were in an open relationship and seeking other connections while making intense eye contact with us. After we got the hint, we offered that we actually had just closed our relationship. To our surprise, the conversation abruptly ended — no friends for us and no fuck buddies for them! We wrote it off as a one-off funny moment, but as we continued going out to queer nightlife spaces, the same thing would happen again and again.

On one hand, I understand and appreciate how important cruising is in queer spaces; people should have the room to be horny, gay, and seeking. On the other hand, it feels like my worth has been reduced when people drop out mid-conversion after realizing I’m not trying to bang. As someone who has spent a lot of time separating their value as a person from how desirable they are to others, it cuts deep whenever it becomes apparent that people only have one goal in mind.

You don’t need to rush into polyamorous dating to do it right. Sara Youngblood Gregory, author of *The Polyamory Workbook*, tells us how to be intentional about ethical non-monogamy.

Even more alarming is just how much leeway people feel to ignore my relationship boundaries or act like they’re a suggestion. A shining example of this happened when my partner was bar-backing for an unnamed Bushwick dyke club. On a packed night, some friends and I took to the dancefloor and occasionally waved to my partner as they bopped around collecting glasses and juicing limes. I made my way to the bar to say hi to my boo and grab a fruity cocktail when a white femme in a broad-brimmed hat started chatting with me. They saw that I had waved to my partner and said, “Yeah, they’re so hot I’ve been trying to get their attention all night.” Which like, fair, I totally agree. But when I let them know we were dating, they didn’t buy it and tried to ask me for my partner’s number.

As a unit, my partner and I baffle people for a lot of reasons. We’re both transmasc; they’re white and I am not; and society broadly really doesn’t get our relationship. A lot of times, people — particularly cis white people —don’t even clock that we’re in a relationship, even if we’re literally making out, because even within queer spaces the dynamics of our masc-for-masc love are illegible. There’s an added layer to people not seeing our relationship when we’re verbally saying it’s a closed dynamic, and someone thinks they can disrupt that to satisfy their desire.

For me, monogamy with my partner makes me feel safe and secure, while leaving me with mental room to explore non-sexual relationships. If my friends find that same safety, security, and freedom in polyamory, I support them wholeheartedly. My ideal for queer people in community-oriented spaces is for all of us to be free to exist as-is, without pressures to change who we are or how we connect with each other. And to those who wish to cast judgement, who think we’ve succumbed to heteronormativity, or who treat our boundaries as a suggestion, this is as an invitation to let your secondaries (and tertiaries) know it’s time to love yourself.

Get the best of what's queer. Sign up for Them’s weekly newsletter here.

Originally Appeared on them.