Tri-Trist

Somehow I have entangled myself in a flirt-triangle. Usually I am so careful to avoid polygadate situations—moving on if too many women are competing for the same man's attention. Yet every day, there I am, tossing my hair when she touches his arm, laughing at his joke not because it was funny but because she didn't hear it, and mentally scratching her eyes out while we chat pleasantly.
With seven billion people in the world, I'm sure more than one of them has to be a straight male of an appropriate age who's good-looking, smart, interesting, and God-fearing. So why can't I give this one up when I'm making a fool of myself?