Life Lesson #13: You’re great, really. I just have a lot on my mind lately. It’s not Two, and I’m not just saying that. Really. It’s Three.

I’m ending my unhealthy relationship with Three.

It all started back in my junior year of college.

I learned about the Law of Triads from my sociology professor in college. Initially, I couldn’t care less about what actually came out of this man’s mouth. He was unbelievably good looking, always cracked jokes on the annoying kids in class who felt the need to question everything he said, was extremely successful and admitted to having obsessive compulsive disorder.

I was in love.

But when it came time to write my term paper and I realized a ten-page piece on what I’d like to do to him behind closed doors (which I’ll have you know included little clothing and fanatical light switch flicking and/or hand washing) did not guarantee a passing grade, I started actually reading my class notes. And thus my intro to a seemingly boring theory was born.

Originally a law supported by chemistry (having to do with elements, usually grouped in threes, in which the atomic weight of one often equaled the other two), my professor took this rule and shed a sociological light on it.

Basically, he believed that this idea could apply to people and their relationships with one another. He supposed that when there are groups of three people, there is often a dominant individual that can sway at least one other person of the group, therefore creating an unbalanced alliance amongst two out of three. Or, when a third person is introduced into a relationship involving two people, disharmony can occur.

In gathering research for my class thesis, I started looking at my own life through trifocals. And Three looked quite attractive.

Growing up with an older and younger brother, I think one of us often felt like the other two were acting like complete assholes. Being six years younger than me, my younger brother probably got the brunt of this. When my older brother was too cool for us, the youngest and I would turn on him. And I remember during long car rides I was forced to sit in the middle (Girls have to sit in the middle! Shut up, your the one in the middle, so you have to sit in the middle too! Squash the piggie!), no matter how much I bitched and complained.

In elementary school, there was a revolving group of three (including myself) that would play outside together during recess. We would congregate daily by an old tree stump (ironically flanked by two large trees, if memory serves me correctly) that we would proclaim an oasis in the middle of Nevada, a deserted island in the Caribbean, a pirate’s ship, a haunted castle, or whatever the hell our crazy-ass childhood imaginations changed that rotting piece of wood into for our 45 minutes of freedom. And while that stump might represent a plethora of cool things on any given day, I remember feeling as if two people would always get the better roles associated with it - Owners of Stump, Rulers of Stumpland, Explores of The Stump – while the third person would be relinquished to the unwanted role – Stealer of Stump, Original Owner of Stump That Was About to be Snatched, Slave of Stump, anything along those lines really.

In college, I was good friends with two other girls. And while we got along well with each other for the most part, two of us would always talk about the other one behind her back. Face to face, we always agreed on clubs to go to, crappy television to watch on a Sunday afternoon, or which cafeteria to stuff our faces at. Take the one girl out of the mix though, and we’d talk about her for hours on end. I know it was wrong and eventually we weren’t friends with her anymore (notably over something that looking back on, I probably overreacted about but when you have someone else to bolster your opinion, it’s impossible to have distance), but that was the reality of the situation.

Ultimately, my hot professor thought Three was a number that should be acknowledged for his pervasiveness, his authority and his cunning ability to tear people apart. And he had convinced me of this as well. Three siblings. Love triangles. Ménage a trios. Third wheels. Three strikes. The Three Stooges. Three-fold Law of Return. Three’s Company. Three strikes. The three Kings (you know they talked about the guy that brought gold). Three wishes. Three-mile Island. The Tri-state Area . The Three Amigos. Those three monkeys that hate evil.

It’s all about the Three out there, and from that moment on, I was never able to look at my life without trying to make him a part of it.

Over time, though, my love for Three started turning into hate. I started seeing him everywhere, and I realized, more often in situations I didn’t like. Cases in point:

I’ll give you two minutes to talk to me in a bar – but if you haven’t said something witty or offered to buy me a drink by the third minute, just walk away.

I can watch a movie for two hours, but three, that just isn’t going to happen.

I can do two things at once at work. Add one more and I’ll screw them all up.

You can stay over my place two nights in a row, but by the third night, I’ll hate you.

I hate stools with three legs. High chairs, no problem. Stools? I’d rather stand.

I fear three-legged dogs.

And now, my most recent three-related dilemma.

I’ve been oh-so-quietly ‘seeing’ someone for about, well, I’m sure you can guess it, three months now. And I have the feeling it’s actually come to an end, and I didn’t even know it.

Now, did I do this subconsciously? I get the feeling that maybe I have. Because in the back of my mind, I believe that most relationships have a three month expiration date.

The first month, I’m in lust. The second, I’m in love.

But by the third, I get kind of scared bored. Because it’s at this point that I decide, okay, we’re going to have a go at this, like, for real, or I’m actually getting kind of scared bored, so I might as well finish this now.

And so Three has become a silent nemesis, waiting for his time to strike. He has successfully helped me to end my other relationships in roughly three months.

Life Lesson #13: I’ve got to end my relationship with Three. He’s terminating my ability to have a relationship for longer than three months. He’s creating a fear against animals that totally don’t deserve to be scared of just because they’re missing a limb. He’s making me choose to stand way more than necessary in bars when a perfectly good stool remains empty. And he’s making me miss what I hear are a lot of Oscar-worthy cinematic masterpieces.

So number Three, our love/hate relationship must come to an end. I love you, but you’re just tearing me apart. Or at least, forcing me to realize I have a giant fear of commitment and I’d much rather just blame you than face that. I swear, it's not you. It's me. But I'm telling you right now, we're over.