The wingman. She's always there if you're looking to have a good time when you want to go bar hopping. You can count on her to rescue you from a sticky situation that you can't get yourself out of. She's the best excuse to use when you're trying to ditch that sketchy guy who just won't leave you alone. She's the Thelma to your Louise. Most importantly, she's the best possible candidate that won't try to cock block you when you're trying to score digits from that cute blonde with the big hands. However, picking the wrong partner in crime can either enhance or stifle your interactions with potential guys. The worst kind of wing can steer you wrong and fuck you over.

Take for instance my friends Bree and Tricia. We went to some random bar in the East Village where we met some random boys. They were easy on the eyes and inviting. Bree made the first move and introduced herself to the group starting with the brunette with blue eyes and perfect teeth, the most attractive one out of the bunch. Like the dutiful wingmen we were, we continued to make conversation with the other guys while Bree was warming up brunette blue eyes. Tricia, on the other hand, wasn't so interested, at least not with the guys we were talking to. I noticed her attention drifting towards to the brunette blue eyed guy. And, it was obvious. Then in mid conversation, Tricia got up and strode over to her new target. She sat right next to him, hand on lap, and deliberately interrupted their conversation. She stole the spotlight from Bree and got his number.

There's a golden unspoken rule between fellow wingmen to keep in mind. Don't cock block. Generally, the first one to open conversation to the other group gets first dibs on which one they want to hit it off with. If this means you have to talk to another less interesting or less attractive guy from the group for an hour so be it, you never ever leave your wingman. Going after the guy your friend is interested in is out of the question. The purpose of a wingman is to help each other out, not to compete with each other. That's just tacky. As a worthy wingman, you want to help your friend's game and win your wings. Having a wingman like this is not so ideal, but you knew that. As for the questionable threesome, not only did Tricia get his number but she went home with brunette blue eyes at the end of the night.

Being a wingman isn't the most glamorous role. There's competition, late nights, petty fights, and skeevy scumbags making unwanted passes at you. It's a dirty job but someone's got to do it. The role of wingman can easily turn into babysitter before you know it. I once went to a party with my friend Lucy. She asked me to come out with her because she was trying to get over a bad breakup. Lucy felt rejected and alone. So she needed an ego booster and her trusty wingman to accompany her to a party that she got invited to. Lucy calls at half past midnight and tells me to meet her downstairs with my party dress on.

"Lucy, I can't. It's late and Tyler is sleeping at my apartment," I whispered into my cell phone. I didn't want to wake him up.

"Please," Lucy begged, "I'm upset and I need my best friend with me. I can't do this alone." So like the loyal friend I am, I got dressed and met Lucy downstairs like she said. I knew if I was in a similar situation she would do the same for me. That's what your wingman is for. I told Tyler that I had to meet Lucy for a little bit and promised that I would be home before he woke up.

This isn't the first time I found myself in this kind of situation. Again. It seems to me that I'm the likely wingman for most of my (single) girlfriends to turn to. One reason is because I'm charming and easy to get along with, naturally. The second reason is because I have a boyfriend. Not only is it an easy and plausible excuse for guys to back off but it gives them a reason to move on to the other girl that her friend is with.

Throughout the night, I watched Lucy as she happily accepted drinks from random strangers. She easily weaved from one conversation to the other trying to make that "connection" with the right guy. I, on the other hand, forcefully tagged along and painfully had to listen to their shallow conversations while I was being pawned off to his wing man. The only perk of the night was free drinks. At that point, martinis were my true wings. By the time I was ready to head home, Lucy met two guys who had a party at their house, and somehow I was convinced to go.

"It's okay. He (Guy A) said he's here with his roommate so you can talk to him," Lucy said.

"But I don't want to talk to anyone. I have a boyfriend and I'm tired," I whined. "You're the only one I can rely on to be here with me tonight. I wouldn't have asked anyone else. Please! For me," Lucy asked. Ah, here it comes- the guilt trip. I told Lucy that this would be our last pit stop for the night and she agreed so long as I would accompany her.

Not even an hour later, Lucy and Guy A hit it off and I was stuck talking to his not so attractive, awkward roommate. We were both stranded in the same boat waiting to be saved. He turned to me and gave me a sympathetic look.

"You're a good wingman," he said. He understood where I was coming from because he was in the same situation as well.

"I know."

While I was talking to Guy A's wingman, I noticed Lucy and her new found hookup sneaking into his room. I selfishly thought, "They better make it quick so I can ditch this dude and I can finally go home."

As I sat waiting for Lucy to finish up her quickie, I realized I was no longer Lucy's wingman. I was her babysitter. The entire night I followed her from bar to bar, carefully watching her alcohol intake (I had no intention in holding her hair back at the end of the night), and rescuing her from possible attackers. I never remembered the wingman being so much work but I couldn't abandon my wing. Another cardinal rule of being someone's wingman- never leave a wing behind.

Before we knew it, it was five in the morning. I bid adieu to our very long night and rushed back home to Tyler before he woke up. Good thing he's a heavy sleeper. When I got home, I slipped back into bed and recapped my night. Even though it wasn't one of our best nights, I knew it could have been worse. There was no puking and no bullshit fights over guys. We got home in one piece nicely liquored up. Another typical night.

A wingman means you've got to, like the song says, stand by your man, or in this case, woman. Friends know they need it. Being someone's wingman isn't always the best role to play but it's definitely the most supportive kind and that's the kind of wing you need.