They say bad things come in threes. In mathematics, three is a crowd—unnecessary for symmetry, too many for a straight line, and just enough to make everything feel unstable. In relationships, it’s the spark that ignites jealousy. In luck, the third strike isn’t chance—it’s expectation. The third is always the variable, the threat, the twist. Which is to say: the third is never neutral. And that’s exactly what makes The White Lotus three-person friendship the most volatile, revealing, and addictive bonds of all.
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Trios never stay still. They spin, orbit, tilt. Loyalties shift. Perceptions warp. At any given moment, someone is closer to someone else, and someone is—at best—left hanging. At worst, out for blood. Nothing is as quietly destructive, strangely romantic, painfully introspective, or unbreakably strong as the triangle of female friendship. If you’re not convinced, ask Jaclyn, Laurie, and Kate.
Enter: the actress, the lawyer, the mediator. A group so well-balanced and so barely functioning, they make Greek tragedy look like group therapy. Their friendship plays like a wine-fueled cold read of a long-forgotten script—one where everyone remembers the lines differently and nobody’s been cast in the role they want.
Jaclyn: The Diva with a Deadline of Drama
Artists are unpredictable. Actresses are predictable about unpredictability. They fear irrelevance like mortals fear death. When you’re used to being looked at—lit properly, framed just so—nothing ages you faster than being ignored. Jaclyn plays the role of The Star even when the stage has moved on. Her presence is calculated, her manipulation second nature, and her affection strategic. She encourages friends to shoot their shot, then aims for the rebound. She’s the kind of friend who compliments your outfit and borrows your spotlight. The performance? Convincing. The intent? Icy. You know her: the glamorous chaos agent with a loyalty clause written in disappearing ink.
Laurie: The Lawyer Who Remembers Everything
Laurie doesn’t forget. She files. She indexes. She cross-references. That thing Jaclyn did in ninth grade? Still admissible in the court of friendship. Laurie plays the role of the rational one—sharp, observant, probably right, rarely thanked. She’s the friend who says the thing everyone’s thinking, then gets blamed for saying it. And the problem with always calling it like it is? Sometimes you start to believe you are the truth. Laurie’s pain stems not from being wronged—but from being right again. You know her: the know-it-all who holds it together until she doesn’t.
Kate: The Smiling Saboteur
Kate is the balancing act—polite, polished, and emotionally MIA when it matters. She sees evil, hears evil, and responds with a tight-lipped smile and a story of her own. Conflict makes her uncomfortable, which is why she likes to stir the pot and walk away before it boils. She speaks in validations and half-therapized insights: maybe Laurie loves disappointment, maybe Jaclyn is a narcissist. Maybe Kate likes being the neutral one because it keeps her clean. You know her: the one who throws the grenade, then asks if you’re okay after it explodes.
This is friendship as a slow implosion—Real Housewives energy with backhanded compliments that slap and confessions so honest they sting. And yet, they stay. They circle each other like satellites, tethered by shared history, private jokes, and passive-aggressive love that comes from knowing someone too long to let them go.
In every trio, someone’s the Jaclyn, someone’s the Laurie, someone’s the Kate. We’ve seen them. We’ve sat between them. We know someone like her. She’s probably us.
Stream all episodes of The White Lotus on Max
Photos: WARNER BROS. DISCOVERY
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