Sometimes it happens by accident. You arrange a relaxed evening at the movies with two couples and your gay friend, Charlie, who often serves as your plus one. At the last minute, Charlie comes down with the stomach flu. You’ve already purchased the tickets, and don’t want to seem like a bad sport. Yet is there anything worse than a Saturday night out, as the fifth wheel?
Or this scenario, told to me by a single acquaintance, who had planned a dinner party of four. She’d invited some married friends and a colleague (strictly platonic), whose boyfriend was away on business. The host’s nightmare call came when the boyfriend returned from his trip early, and asked if he could come along. How could she say no? Even though it meant being the odd woman out (in her own home).
I have been a 3rd, 5th and 7th wheel, with varying degrees of pain. How about you?