Last Tuesday, I had a conversation via Google Chat that changed my life. You see, up until Tuesday I actually believed in the social stigma attached to being the single friend in a world of couples. I was ashamed of the role I often play, as in the following case where I will be attending a wedding across the country without a date. Two of my friends, who happen to be dating, were particularly excited about this, as it meant I would have more time to hang out with them instead.

K8EEGRT: Oh great. So I'll be the third wheeling it again?
MCB99: Come on. He and I are hardly a formal bicycle.
K8EEGRT: Yeah. That's definitely true.
MCB99: I think that the three of us combine to form some kind of tricycle. But like a bad a** one.
K8EEGRT: Like with streamers and spoke beads?
MCB99: Exactly.
K8EEGRT: And flames?
MCB99: Definitely flames.

You know, on second thought, I am a pretty great third wheel. See, many people would hit an all-time low when they accompany a couple on an afternoon trip to Ikea. Not me. Bring on the $15 end tables! Most would shudder at the thought of being picked up from the airport, not by your boyfriend, but rather by your girlfriend and herr boyfriend. But I say, the more people (to help carry my luggage) the merrier! And who goes on a weekend trip to San Diego with an engaged couple? I do. The Cards were playing the Padres - I do what needs to be done.

Actually I enjoy being the third or in some cases, fifth wheel. The way I see it is that if I really were intruding, the couple would have never asked me to go to dinner and a movie in the first place. And I NEVER go without being invited. The reality is that most people are settling down at this age, and if I exclude couples from my list of people to hang out with, well... let's put it this way: I am going to need a few more hobbies. I'm the fun, single friend. I have a duty to entertain, and it's a job I do not take lightly.

That said, the seventh wheel is my breaking point. This is due to the fact that being a seventh wheel always results in a terrible hangover. I mean, what else am I supposed to do besides take a row of whisky shots with the bartender when the conversation turns to stories of "how we met?" I believe I was roughly a 17th wheel on New Year's Eve, and wow, January 1st was not pretty.