The invisible string theory sounds cute, but it has one major flaw.

After Sydney's first major COVID lockdown ended, I got a puppy.

I took her everywhere with me — cafés, friends' houses, out for adventures to new places.

Then another lockdown hit, and the only place I could take her was my local park. That's where I met my now-good friends, the fellow dog owners of my suburb.

We'd all go and stand around in responsible, socially distanced circles, drink in hand, while the dogs played. (We're all still good friends, but we do things like go out for dinners now.)

Watch: Black cat and golden retriever theory in relationships. Post continues below.

One of those dog-park friends is originally from Melbourne — where I'd lived for exactly two years. One day, a couple of years into our friendship, we were chatting, and I mentioned the small all-girls' school I'd gone to.

"Wait, you went there?" she asked. (I'm not going to name the school because frankly, I hated it.)

"I WENT THERE TOO!!!"

Wild coincidence, right? I mean, how many schools are there in Melbourne? It's got to be a fair few, hey?

Weirder still, we figured out that we'd been at the school at the same time — even though I'm a few years older. I was in the senior school (Year 7 and 8) while she was in the junior school.

What's more, both of us were only at that particular school for a couple of years — but somehow, our time overlapped.

We didn't actually meet until 20-something years later, but she's now one of my closest friends.

This is a perfect example of the invisible string theory.

The 'Invisible String Theory' is a romantic notion rooted in folklore and popularised in modern culture (thanks in part to Taylor Swift) that suggests we're all connected to certain people by an unseen, unbreakable thread.

The idea is that no matter time, distance, or circumstance, the universe will eventually draw these destined souls to each other. And if they part? They'll be pulled back together. Eventually.

It's comforting and poetic — especially in the face of heartbreak or separation — to imagine that some relationships are simply 'meant to be'.

And the more I think about it, the more examples I can find in my own life of this happening. Like, the ex of mine who I met at a festival, who, as it turned out, was friends with my godmother's eldest son (who I've known since birth) for years, but I'd never met (there were so many events we later realised we'd both been at spanning years and years, but never crossed paths).

When we split, I was convinced for a long time that we were 'meant to be together' and eventually, we'd find our way back to each other. And thank god I hadn't heard of the Invisible String Theory at that point, or I might've held on even longer.

See the thing is, it is a delightful idea. It's charming and whimsical, and in some ways could be a helpful little tidbit to give us hope when we're struggling to understand why some people leave our lives.

It's like emotional bubble wrap — soft, protective, and strangely satisfying. But like bubble wrap, it's not exactly built for long-term use.

The problem with relying on the Invisible String Theory too heavily is that it can trick us into mistaking coincidence for cosmic design. Or worse, it can convince us that letting go of a person or situation that isn't serving our growth and/or happiness isn't an option.

When we believe we're destined to end up with certain people — whether romantically, platonically, or even career-wise — we might ignore reality in favour of fate. (Cast your mind back to Rory Gilmore turning down that perfectly good job because she's sure her string's tied to the New York Times internship. Bad move, baby girl.)

It can also see us romanticising red flags, blurring the line between soul-deep connection and unhealthy attachment. It can disguise toxicity under the guise of fate, making people overlook incompatibility or poor treatment because they believe there's a bigger cosmic plan just waiting to unfold. We hold onto situations longer than we should, excuse behaviour we wouldn't normally tolerate, or turn down new connections or opportunities, all because we're still "waiting for the string to pull tight".

The problem with Invisible String Theory isn't the theory itself — it's in how we use it.

As a story we tell ourselves to make sense of life's weird overlaps? Delightful. Whimsical. But as a roadmap for relationships? It tends to lead us in circles, not forward.

Sometimes people are in our lives for a reason and a season. Just because you cross paths in strange, serendipitous ways doesn't mean you're meant to walk the whole path together. Maybe the invisible string brought you to a lesson, not a lifelong connection.

And maybe cutting the string is the real act of growth.

Feature image: Alix Nicholson/ChatGPT.