MIXED LOVE: And Boyfriend Makes Three

Dating has rarely been a positive experience for me, even living in metropolitan cities like Los Angeles and Hong Kong. The majority of men who would approach me were creepy white guys old enough to be my dad, and looking old enough to be my grandfather. Fetishization, as it was, is just part of the daily struggles of being a femme Asian twink living on either side of the Pacific in a reality of mismatched perceptions. I think of myself as sexy, beautiful, and smart, but in gay circles, I’m usually seen as less a person and more a collective representation of all the negative stereotypes used to diminish Asian men throughout U.S. history. Luckily, my first boyfriend, now husband, found me, saw my entirety, and paid me the kindness and respect I always knew I deserved.

We met in 2015 when I was on my first solo trip to Kyoto to witness the blooming of the cherry blossoms. As I was walking up the steps of the Fushimi Inari shrine, I saw a handsome man with sweet, kind eyes standing under one of the thousands of vermillion-colored torii gates. A quick exchange of pleasantries has turned into an eight-year relationship built on a love for complex cuisines, cartoonish comical nonsense, groovy Japanese city pop, and commiserating over our overbearing Asian mothers. As it turns out, a queer Chinese American from the Los Angeles suburbs, and a queer Indian American from the suburbs of upstate New York have a lot of shared values and struggles, despite the suspicions sewn by the complicated geopolitics between our respective heritage countries of origin. The bigger challenge for us is figuring out how to manage a future where both of our moms want to live with us and the kids we are planning to have through surrogacy. His mom is vegetarian, my mom only cooks with pork. It will be a fun mess of a sitcom in the making.

During the summer of 2020, my now-husband and I—dressed in lavender and mint green, holding our bouquet of pink peonies—had a small civil ceremony at a park overlooking the Statue of Liberty. There we were, an intergaycial minority couple, with our immigrant families by our side at the very spot where many before us came to seek opportunity, progress, and acceptance. To mark our union, we decided to fuse our family names to reflect both our Chinese and Indian heritage. “Tam” plus “Bramhandkar” equals “Bramhandtam.” Currently, we are planning our long-postponed wedding celebration back where we met—Kyoto. And as we are finalizing the details of the event, we thought about what role our new boyfriend will play and how to introduce him as a significant figure in our lives.

Expanding Our Relationship 

During lockdown, the relationship between my husband and I became stronger than ever, having had the privilege to spend so much time together. We heard many horror stories of couples going stir-crazy, but being confined together in our one-bedroom apartment in New York City felt strangely safe and comforting. Figuring out new recipes, playing video games, and working out together made the time pass quickly. But most importantly, we had each other to lean on. We built a solid home that we knew no one could break.

Putting restrictions on new sexual experiences for the rest of our lives seemed like an odd, old-fashioned concept. So, a year into our marriage, we decided that we were in a secure and trusting place to start exploring new types of intimacy.

We never considered a polyamorous relationship, but being open was something my husband and I discussed extensively early in our relationship. Putting restrictions on new sexual experiences for the rest of our lives seemed like an odd, old-fashioned concept. So, a year into our marriage, we decided that we were in a secure and trusting place to start exploring new types of intimacy. Sometimes we play together, sometimes we play apart. Most importantly, we keep things fully transparent. We tell each other who we are seeing and send the locations of where we are going, not only for trust reasons but for safety. Things went on like this for a year and we both had our fun casual dates. The most jarring part was relearning how to flirt, reject, and be rejected after years of monogamy. Men, for the most part, are still trash. But there was also excitement and a type of queer awakening we were both grateful for having found in the city. Finding ourselves among the queer BIPOC nightlife scene, forming new friendships, and finally being seen was a stark contrast from what we experienced years before in typical gay spaces.

Then the unexpected happened during the summer of 2022. After some online flirtation, I met a boy at a Pride event at the Brooklyn Museum. There was instant chemistry. Apparently, I have a type: kind, nerdy, software engineer with a goofy sense of humor. A few dates led to more and after a spontaneous foursome with my husband, the word was uttered: “boyfriend.” My husband called him that and it stuck. He was my boyfriend first and they were friends and metamours (in poly terminology, a partner’s partner who is not also your partner). We would only hook up together if I initiated it, so I was handed a type of power and responsibility I'm not entirely sure I wanted. Things became complex and I had to perform the delicate act of balancing time between my husband and boyfriend. My husband took hierarchical priority. But even so, I felt the pangs of betrayal knowing that I was forming a new serious relationship, while my husband was not. I was having more sex with someone consistently, and he wasn’t. My husband was feeling left out, and my boyfriend always had the underlying fear that he could potentially break up our relationship. The current setup to both of them felt risky—and it was.

Things became complex and I had to perform the delicate act of balancing time between my husband and boyfriend. My husband took hierarchical priority. But even so, I felt the pangs of betrayal knowing that I was forming a new serious relationship, while my husband was not.

Polyamory is not for the faint of heart. It forces everyone involved to confront their deepest insecurities and vulnerabilities. My husband and I were reading all kinds of books, like Polysecure and Opening Up: A Guide to Creating and Sustaining Open Relationships, to figure things out. Long story short: every relationship is different, and you have to customize it to the way everyone agrees upon.

But there were a few important lessons we’ve learned along the way. Jealousy is a constant looming specter. It’s unavoidable in any relationship, but it’s certainly heightened when more people are involved. So, it also takes just as much communication to confront and minimize jealousy until it becomes insignificant. Checking in with each other at every iteration of the relationship is imperative.

Only become involved in a polyamorous relationship if you have emotional maturity for it and the ability to calmly discuss topics that might hurt. It’s a lot. And for everything that it is, it is not a solution to fix any underlying problems of an existing relationship. My husband and I knew we would fundamentally be okay, whichever way this polyamorous relationship went. We’ve already been through so much together. We've gone through more than three years of long-distance relationship, started the surrogacy process for two children, and have appointed each other as health proxies in the event of any misfortune. Polyamory, as we see it, is something that we are willing to try as an extension of what we already have. We feel like we have more love to give.

Only become involved in a polyamorous relationship if you have emotional maturity for it and the ability to calmly discuss topics that might hurt. It’s a lot. And for everything that it is, it is not a solution to fix any underlying problems of an existing relationship.

Thankfully my husband and boyfriend got along and started to develop a closer relationship. They love geeking out together over transportation infrastructure, tornado-chasing videos, and programming jokes. This is when I can go into cruise control and relax, listening to both of them giggle at each other's nonsense. Eventually, my husband and boyfriend became boyfriends and things became much easier and equal. We became an official triad and exponentially increased the number of ties between us—seven to be exact. Three one-on-one relationships, three one-on-two relationships and one group relationship. It's nice. I feel so lucky to be in the presence of two men who I care for, who care for each other, and who care for me. The sweetest thing my husband said to me was: “I finally have someone who looks at you and sees you the way I do.”

These days our boyfriend comes over two to three times a week and usually stays overnight, especially after we go out and party together. We’ll wake up the next morning together and make a fusion brunch of latkes topped with nori, uni and sour cream and listen to a mix of Panic at the Disco, Barbara Streisand, and Chinese ballads while looking out at the Hudson River. It’s the queer future we could not have fathomed a decade ago and it’s certainly not what our parents imagined for us.

Coming Out Again 

Recently, we told my mother-in-law that we are polyamorous. She already had her suspicions given that the three of us recently traveled together to Costa Rica over Valentine's Day. "I accept this, but I don't approve," she said. It was a much better response than I was expecting considering polyamory is a relatively strange concept to folks accustomed to holding monogamy as the gold standard for serious relationships. "Why are you doing this? Is something wrong? I always tell people you're both so happy. What will I tell my friends?”  It felt like coming out all over again and listening to a series of semi-relevant thoughts.

We assured her that nothing was wrong and that we were as happy as we'd ever been. We just happened to find someone new and special in our lives who fits well into our dynamic. My mother-in-law is an understanding woman and, in the years since my husband came out, has made a conscious effort to broaden her views on sex, gender, sexuality, and relationships. It took about a month and she eventually came around, and now she's asking if our boyfriend will eventually be moving in with us at our new apartment. Her biggest concern and insight is one that my husband and I both share. Is this polyamorous relationship still too one-sided? Is it unfair to our boyfriend that he might never be able to share the same legal status as we do? My husband and I need to make sure that our pre-existing relationship—or couple's privilege—doesn’t take priority over the new one we are still developing with our boyfriend but we also need the legal protections marriage affords us. And I’m optimistic that everything will work out because queer relationships have thrived much longer outside the rule of law than in it. We can be a family no matter what the rest of the world thinks. We are definitely going to have lots to think about before our upcoming wedding celebration.

I’m optimistic that everything will work out because queer relationships have thrived much longer outside the rule of law than in it. We can be a family no matter what the rest of the world thinks.

My parents and other older relatives coming to the wedding don’t know that we are polyamorous, but our friends do. However, my parents did meet our boyfriend during their last visit to New York as a “good friend.”  We all thought it would be better to ease things in over dinner before we drop the big surprise in the coming months. I think my mom has a feeling though. “Is he your husband’s college friend? Oh, they seem so close. Like they’ve know each other a long time.” Mothers always know. My dad, fully oblivious, sat there drinking wine and suggested to our boyfriend that he might die prematurely for being a vegetarian. Not enough nutrition apparently…

Being polyamorous invites a lot of questions and comments. Some good; most inane. “It’s great you guys are doing this, but I could never…” Then don’t. “Why do you need a boyfriend when you already have a husband?” This question is better. Polyamory is certainly not about necessity, it’s about desire and gaining different types of fulfillment. And it can be very rewarding when the level of commitment rises to the point where you have one more person you can count on, one more champion you can rely on, and maybe even one more parent who can help raise the kids.

I recently tried mocking up a family portrait on Midjourney, but the AI couldn’t fathom what a Black, Chinese, and Indian fatherly trio with two kids and two Rottweilers would look like in Brooklyn. Maybe if our picture were part of the training data it wouldn’t have to struggle so much. But I’m glad we can be a starting point to one of the many relationship possibilities in our ever diversifying queer future.