The Third Wheel

This is my ode to the third wheels out there.
You know who you are.
You're the one who tags along when your friend
goes out on a date.
You're the buffer zone.
Without you, the date would go south in a hurry.
It would be on a southbound train for somewhere
Way down south…like Antarctica.
Can you get any more south than that?
I don’t think so.

Ladies, you’re girlfriend brings you along
Just in case the guy she’s dating
Turns out to be a nerd, a jerk, or a pervo.
In that case, you instantly become
the "sick" friend, the "tired" one,
the "party pooper", the scapegoat.
You're the one who comes to the rescue when the
date goes down in flames.

And guys, you’re brought along for one reason only.
I’m sorry to have to break it to you.
Seriously, you’d better brace yourself.
Your friend feels sorry for you.
He knows if you didn’t tag along, you’d be sitting
home alone with a can of Cheez Whiz watching
Cribs and thinking, “That’s gonna be me someday.
I’m gonna buy me a big house with a pool and a
Jacuzzi and stuff. I’ll be bigger than Flava Flav!!!”

So you tag along and sit
in the back seat of the car
with your hat on backwards
singing along to the radio
and bustin’ out the rhymes
while they hold hands and flirt.
You sit on the other side of the
booth at the restaurant quietly
munching on your fries
while they feed each other.
You sit at the movie theater
laughing at all the right parts
while they neck in the dark.
And when the date turns real steamy,
you're the one to get dumped off at the curb,
with a few donated bucks for a taxi ride home.

At that point, you have officially become
THE THIRD WHEEL.


(work in progress...more to be added later...comments welcome)