There's an old saying that goes, "Two's company, three's a crowd." In fact, the television show "Three's Company" was playing off this old clich? by trying to show how it was possible for three people to live happily together. But this sitcom showed the pitfalls of this arrangement. When we were little we had to ride a tricycle before we could attempt a "big kid's bike." Since childhood, we have been raised to understand that you must transition from three to two.
So why is it that every movie about adolescent cliques seems to center around a core group of three people? "Mean Girls," "Jawbreaker," "Heathers" and other similar movies all depict a power trio of females whose friendship is disrupted with the addition of a fourth. We are taught there is safety in numbers, but what number is the safest? Should we strive for a solid tripod to support our lives or are the two feet beneath us enough? Will adding a new member to our entourage breed dissension, or the more the merrier? When it comes to going out with couples, does it ever feel OK to be the third wheel?
It is never harder to be single than when all your best friends are in relationships. Your usual nights out become a compromise: "Well, if I go out tonight, then I'll have to stay in this weekend," your friend says, even though he used to call you every 24 to 48 hours to see what the plan for the evening was. No matter what you do, it becomes impossible to avoid feeling that you are the lone bachelor in a pack of monogamists.
"I never see you anymore," my former best friend who's been in a relationship for two years laments. "We really need to go out." It is impossible to express to these friends that you haven't deliberately eschewed their company but have restructured your social life because of their more important commitments. Nevertheless, when they eventually decide that they've had enough of their significant other (or are just desperate for your attention), it becomes mandatory to indulge their request for a night on the town.
Last weekend, completely unplanned, I happened to spend each night with different sets of couples. There are some couples who are separate often; one partner may be underage and thus ineligible to take part in the festivities; or has a serious job and doesn't mind that his boyfriend with less responsibility goes out; or the couple that is out separately so often it makes you wonder why they haven't broken up yet.
Then there are couples that always go out together; one is constantly more messed up than the other, so it is more of a nurse/patient scenario; some are stereotypically husband and wife, one looking to network, the other fetching drinks; and then the rare couple that just goes out to have fun, dance and drink with friends, knowing exactly whom they are going home with.
Though it may not seem possible, those categories describe the different couples that comprised my weekend. Being the third or fifth (or in some cases seventh or ninth) wheel with couples means one thing and one thing only: You will be the odd man out. Don't get me wrong - this can have its perks. Drinks are sometimes free, you don't have to feel bad if you ditch them to go home with someone, and they are required to listen to your sob stories. The truth is that listening to your problems makes them feel better that they are in a relationship, and can momentarily ignore the fact that they miss being able to go home with anyone they meet.
So maybe this doesn't apply to every person in a relationship. It could just be a lie we single folks tell ourselves to make our empty love lives seem more exciting. But either way there will always be that little inkling that the grass seems greener on the other side. Three may be a crowd, but if it can remind each party of what they are missing - or are glad they don't have to put up with - it might make for pleasant company indeed.
