I met Zach while I was on vacation in San Francisco. He was dating a woman who identified as polyamorous and was involved in more than one romantic relationship. I wasn’t poly, but after a whirlwind weekend Ubering to his favorite haunts and flirting across black leather seats, I felt like it might be worth exploring.

We kept our flirting going when I returned home to New York, eventually evolving into cross-country courting. But I thought I could be cool about the third party in our relationship; the second I started Facebook-stalking him, I realized I couldn’t.

From across the country, social media let me watch Zach’s other relationship unfold in photos, comments, posts and tweets, like a movie I couldn’t tear my eyes from. When she tagged him in a photo of a heart she drew in the sand, I felt sick.

While Zach kept assuring me he still wanted to be with me, his words weren’t nearly as convincing as the pile of Internet evidence I thought proved otherwise. I was caught in a bizarre modern dating triangle, and it was proving torturous.

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