You're sitting in a circle, maybe it’s a stiff corporate icebreaker or a backyard bonfire with people you barely know, and suddenly it's your turn. The pressure is weirdly high. You need two facts and one believable fake. Most people panic. They say something like "I have a third toe" or "I’ve never been to McDonald’s," and everyone sees right through it because it feels like a line from a bad sitcom. Finding good lies for 2 truths and a lie isn't actually about being a great deceiver; it’s about understanding the specific psychology of what people want to believe about you.
If you pick something too wild, you’re caught. If it’s too boring, nobody cares. The sweet spot is that tiny overlap where a lie sounds like a mundane truth and your actual truths sound like total fabrications. It's a game of inverted expectations.
Why Your "Wild" Lies are Actually Failing
Most people think a "good" lie has to be spectacular. They reach for the stars—"I once met the Queen" or "I won a marathon." Stop. That’s the easiest way to lose. Humans are naturally skeptical of outliers. When you present two normal facts and one extraordinary claim, the brain instinctively flags the outlier as the lie. This is a cognitive bias known as the "availability heuristic" where we judge the probability of an event based on how easily we can recall similar examples.
To win, you have to flip the script. Your truths should be your most unbelievable life events, and your lie should be the most boring, plausible thing imaginable.
Think about it. If you actually did win a state-level spelling bee in 4th grade, that's a fantastic truth because it’s specific but slightly impressive. If you pair that with a lie like "I’ve never broken a bone," you’ve created a trap. People assume everyone has broken a bone or that "never breaking a bone" is too cliché of a lie. They’ll guess the spelling bee is the lie because it feels like a "story."
The Art of the Mundane: Crafting Good Lies for 2 Truths and a Lie
The most effective lies are what I call "The Background Noise." These are things that happen to people every day. They aren't flashy. They don't require a long explanation.
Consider these categories for your "boring" lies:
1. The Food Aversion.
Saying "I hate cilantro" or "I’ve never tried a taco" works because food preferences are deeply personal and impossible to disprove on the spot. If you’re a known foodie, saying you’ve never had a specific common dish—like a Big Mac—is a classic. It’s a "believable gap" in your life experience.
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2. The Minor Injury.
"I have a scar on my chin from falling off a swing set." Everyone has a scar. Everyone has fallen off something. By providing a specific but dull detail (the swing set), you add a layer of "truthiness" that bypasses the BS detector.
3. The Missed Opportunity.
"I was supposed to go to the Eras tour but I got the flu." It’s relatable. It’s disappointing. It doesn’t make you sound like a hero, which makes it feel more honest. People generally lie to look better; therefore, lies that make you look slightly unlucky or average are highly effective.
Leveraging Social Psychology to Hide the Fake
Psychologist Paul Ekman, a pioneer in the study of emotions and deception, famously noted that "micro-expressions" can give us away. But in a casual game, it’s less about your face and more about your "baseline."
If you are usually a talkative person, giving a very short, one-sentence lie will stand out. You need to match the "verbal density" of your truths. If your truth is "I lived in Japan for three years," you probably have details ready. If your lie is just "I like cats," the lack of detail is a dead giveaway. You have to "flesh out" the lie.
Instead of "I like cats," try "My family had a Maine Coon named Barnaby growing up, but I realized I’m actually allergic to long-haired breeds."
See the difference? The name "Barnaby" and the specific detail about "long-haired breeds" provide the cognitive scaffolding that makes a lie feel like a memory. This is a technique used in "The Truth Default Theory" (TDT), which suggests that humans operate under a functional presumption that others are telling the truth unless something triggers a specific suspicion. By adding mundane details, you never trigger that suspicion.
Mixing Your Truths: The "Anchor" Technique
To make your good lies for 2 truths and a lie work, your truths need to do some heavy lifting. You want "Anchors."
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An Anchor is a truth that sounds like a lie.
- The "Double Take" Truth: "I’ve been struck by lightning." (If this is true, it’s the ultimate anchor).
- The "Dull" Truth: "I own four different types of staplers." This is so weirdly specific and boring that people will assume you’re making it up to be "quirky."
When you sandwich a very plausible lie between a "Double Take" truth and a "Dull" truth, the lie disappears. The group will spend all their time debating whether you actually own four staplers or if you’re cool enough to have survived lightning. They won't even look at your lie about "never seeing a Star Wars movie."
The Statistical Reality of the Game
Let’s get nerdy for a second. Most people follow a pattern. Statistics in casual gameplay show that the lie is most frequently placed in the middle (the second position).
If you want to be truly unpredictable, place your lie first.
Most players use the first statement as a "warm-up" truth to build confidence. By leading with a lie, you disrupt the expected rhythm of the game. It’s a psychological "cold open." You deliver the lie while your audience is still calibrating their focus.
Practical Examples of High-Tier Lies
If you're stuck, here are a few directions that consistently perform well because they tap into common human experiences without being "too much":
- The "I’ve never..." Lie: "I’ve never seen a single episode of Friends." (Incredible for people in their 30s/40s).
- The "Common Skill" Lie: "I actually don't know how to ride a bike."
- The "Middle Name" Lie: "My middle name is actually a month of the year."
- The "Pet" Lie: "I used to have a pet turtle named Michelangelo." (Everyone had a turtle or knows someone who did).
Avoid the "I'm related to a celebrity" lie. It’s the "I have a girlfriend in Canada" of this game. Everyone assumes it's fake, even if it's true. If you actually are related to a celebrity, use it as your truth—but describe it in the most casual, unimpressed way possible to make it sound like you're trying too hard to be interesting.
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Putting it All Together: The Winning Script
When it's your turn, don't just rattle them off. Take a breath. Look around.
Try this structure:
- Truth (The Boring One): "I’ve had the same pair of sneakers since 2018."
- Truth (The Wild One): "I once got stuck in an elevator with a professional clown for two hours."
- Lie (The Plausible One): "I’ve never actually broken a bone, despite being a total klutz."
The "clown" story is so vivid people will fixate on it. They'll ask questions. They'll try to catch you in a lie about the clown. Meanwhile, the "broken bone" lie is sitting there, completely ignored because it feels like a standard, throwaway fact.
Next Steps for Your Next Social Gathering
The secret isn't just having a list; it's reading the room. If you're with coworkers, a lie about a previous weird job (like "I used to be a professional gift wrapper") works wonders. If you're with family, you need something they don't already know—maybe a "secret" hobby or a food you've hated in private for years.
Start by auditing your own life. Write down three things you’ve done that sound fake. Those are your "Gold Truths." Then, find three mundane things you’ve never done but most people have. Those are your "Platinum Lies."
Keep a couple of these in your back pocket. The next time the "icebreaker" starts, you won't be the one sweating. You'll be the one winning.
Prepare your "boring" lie by thinking of three specific details to support it if someone asks a follow-up. If your lie is "I've never been to Florida," be ready to say why (e.g., "Every time we planned a trip there, something came up, so we just ended up going to Georgia instead").
Consistency is the soul of a good lie. If you can back up your fake story with a dull "why," you’ve already won the game.