Welcome to The Friends Theory, where we use pop culture and story to reframe the way you see your life, work, and what you’re capable of.

This week, we’re trading Central Perk for a psychological thriller.

3-minute read.

The One With Three Sides to Every Story

Inspired by The Girlfriend (Amazon Prime) + the many times I’ve misunderstood literally everything.

The premise of The Girlfriend sounds simple enough:

My wife and I watched it and were fascinated by how completely different the perspectives are.

You see the story from Laura’s side.
You see the story from Cherry’s side.

For most of the show, you don’t get an objective “this is what really happened” version.
You’re stuck bouncing between Laura’s reality and Cherry’s reality, trying to decide who you believe. By the time the final twist lands, you can’t un-see how differently they experienced the same events. It leaves you sitting in the gap between their realities, asking:

There are always three sides

A good (and very wise) friend of mine says:

The Girlfriend is the extreme version of this.

But it happens every day in much smaller, quieter ways:

• It happens between my wife and I, when one comment lands completely differently than intended.

• It happened with my old boss, when a piece of feedback haunted me for months, in a way they probably never meant.

• It happens over text and email, constantly.

  • “k”

  • 👍🏻

  • “Sure.”

  • “We need to talk.”

Why do you hate me, sender?

My brain will happily spin an entire psychological thriller out of a single emoji.

In real life, I almost never get that third side.
I get my version, their (imagined) version…and no neutral third party to tell me what’s actually true.

Ever Been Here?

You get a short reply from someone you care about.

Your story:
“They’re annoyed. I’ve done something wrong. They’re pulling away.”

Their possible story:
“I’m on a call / in the supermarket / on the toilet and I’m trying to answer quickly so I don’t forget.”

The truth?
You may never know. And it’s probably much more boring than your nervous system thinks.

—

Your boss makes a passing comment on your work.

Your story:
“I’m not performing. They’re disappointed. I’m getting fired. I’m not cut out for this.”

Their possible story:
“I made a rushed comment and haven’t thought about it since.”

The truth?
Somewhere in between. Again, you might never get the full picture.

—

You post something online you’re proud of and it doesn’t perform the way you expected.

Your story:
“No one cares. I embarrassed myself. I should stop posting.”

Someone else’s story:
“I loved this but I was on the bus and forgot to save it, and now I can’t find it.”

The truth?
A mix of algorithms, attention spans, and other people’s lives that have absolutely nothing to do with your worth.

Here’s the reframe

Our brains are excellent writers of psychological thrillers.

Given a tiny bit of information, we’ll confidently fill in all the gaps:
– why they said that
– what they “really” meant
– what it must mean about us

But just because the story in your head feels true, doesn’t mean it’s the truth.

Most of the time, it’s just your side of the story:
– shaped by your history
– your fears
– that one teacher/parent/boss who’s still taking up space in your brain long past the expiration date

The work (and I say this as someone who is still very much doing it) is to pause long enough to ask:

Because when you remember there are at least three sides to every story—yours, theirs, and some messier, unknowable middle—you get a tiny bit of freedom back.

You don’t have to automatically believe the version where you’re always the problem, the disappointment, the burden, the failure.

You also don’t have to automatically believe the version where it’s your way or the highway.

Somewhere between self-blame and self-righteousness is a much more interesting place: asking questions, getting curious about how it felt for them, and being willing to let the story expand beyond your first draft.

Try This On 

Next time you feel yourself spiralling about someone else’s words, silence, or emoji usage, try this:

1. Name your version out loud.
   “The story I’m telling myself right now is that ______.”

2. Write down their possible version.
   Make it as mundane and boring as possible.
   “They’re tired.” “They’re overwhelmed.” “They’re in back-to-back meetings.”

3. Acknowledge the third version.
   There’s a truth you can’t see yet, that isn’t available from where you’re standing. You may never get it—and that’s okay.

4. Act from the story that gives you the most peace, not the most adrenaline.
   Maybe you send a clarifying text.
   Maybe you let it go.
   Maybe you ask a direct question instead of assuming.

You don’t have to become a saint who never misinterprets anything.

You just have to remember: your brain is very good at writing thrillers.
That doesn’t mean you have to treat every notification like an episode.

Your Turn

Think of a recent moment where you were convinced you knew what someone else was thinking or feeling.

• What was the story in your head?

• And if you’re honest…what are three other (less dramatic) possibilities?

Hit reply and tell me.
If you’re stuck, I’ll help you find an alternative version.

Final Thought

Most of the time, we don’t get a neat reveal or a “here’s what really happened” scene. We just get our side, their side, and whatever we’re willing to talk about in the middle.

You don’t have to abandon your experience to make room for someone else’s. You just have to hold yours with one hand, reach for theirs with the other, and see what changes in the space between.

See you next week.
Lucy xx
AKA Queen of the Reframe

P.S. If you're into exploring other sides, start here👇

Thanks for reading The Friends Theory. I appreciate you so much ❤️