For Anusha and Jay.

I wake up relatively early on a Saturday morning and make my way toward the North End. It’s a cold morning, and as someone who is not an early bird, I’m selfishly groggy on my walk. I’m not meeting anyone for a lavish Italian breakfast or touring Paul Revere’s House. I’m going to work–an unpaid job. No networking, no stipend.

It sounds like a particularly dreary day for me, waking up early to attend an unpaid job. But it’s actually the opposite. I’m on my way to my best friend’s apartment, Jay, to help him shoot a class film. He asked me to help “supervise” his script (forgive me, I’m not a film student). By that, I mean I have to read aloud the script for the actors to respond to while they’re being filmed. This wasn’t my first time helping Jay out with his films, and certainly not the last.

Jay and I are an uncommon duo. For starters, he hates reading, the exact thing that I study. He’s a Tarantino film boy while I much prefer Greta Gerwig. And he sounds like a dad when he references Taylor Swift. Yet, here we are. Staying up late talking about boys, determining daily outfits together, and spraying Reddi-wip at each other like we’re at a slumber party.

Jay and I have one major commonality: Anusha. His girlfriend, my roommate, and best friend. Anusha is a small, fiery female, who’s our other half. The two have been dating for about a year, and every time someone asks me about them I can’t help being overwhelmed with emotions. Anusha was one of the first friends I made at Emerson, and she’s stuck with me through some especially dark times. To put it plainly, Anusha is a lifelong friend.

Anusha, Jay, and I do everything together. I join them in their weekly film endeavors; we eat dinner nightly like a family, and we have regularly scheduled movie nights. If they’re on a date, they text me when they’re on their way home. I text them when I’m on my way home from work. If they’re going out with friends, they’ll invite me. On Jay’s birthday last year, I showed up at the party late, and everyone collectively yelled “Lauren!” even though I didn’t know half of their friends. My friends at home joke that I’m in a throuple between the two, but we all know what I really am.

Queue, the third wheel. The spare tire, the deadwood, the odd one out. If Marco has Polo, then I’m the fish out of water. It’s a role I take on proudly.

Okay, I’m going to sound like a bridesmaid for a moment. But it’s utterly justified. It’s not difficult to look at Anusha and Jay and see a future between the two, even if you don’t know the couple. But if you’re me and you’re nearly a part of their relationship, then it’s rooted in your being. If that makes me a third wheel, then I’ve become an incredibly central one to their relationship. More importantly, though, being the third wheel to Anusha and Jay has become an incredibly rare relationship to cherish.

The lovable couple made it official after I had just gotten out of a serious relationship. I was heartbroken. And the best part? My ex and I lived in the same building on campus. I was miserable. At that time, Anusha and Jay could have left me. And why wouldn’t they? My dreadful taste in men wasn’t their burden to bear. Yet, here they were. Ready to tend to me at any given moment, like parents. Making sure I wasn’t alone, holding my hand (quite literally), and teaching me what actual, valuable love looks like.

The third wheel doesn’t seem so out of place now, does it? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of both witnessing and participating in PDA. I know what it’s like to be surrounded by a couple, feeling like you’re the only person in the room while two people smother each other. On the other hand, I’ve also been that couple to make friends want to leave the room.

Anusha is just one of my many friends who will tell you how happy she is that I’m no longer with my ex-boyfriend, both for her sake and for mine. And yet, somehow the downfall of my relationship has led to the praising of another. I became happier as a third wheel than I was in a relationship. And I knew exactly why: love is a learning process. Sometimes you’re in it, and sometimes you are just a part of it.

Anusha and Jay are the friends I go grocery shopping with. They’re the couple who throw Squishmallows at me to wake me up in the morning. The people who drunkenly confess how much they care and worry about me. They’re my other half, and I’m their third wheel.

Driving As The Third Wheel