What the Obsession with The Summer I Turned Pretty Reveals About Our Longings in Relationships
This past Summer, while on vacation with my family, my sister-in-law giddily announced that she was excited about the premier of the third season of The Summer I Turned Pretty, an Amazon adaptation of a young adult book series. I had seen the thumbnail on my Prime Video “For You” page but disregarded it as “too young” for me. So when my sister-in-law proudly announced her enthusiasm for the third season I’ll admit I rolled my eyes. But because I love and trust her, and because we often have similar tastes, a part of me was intrigued.
At its core, The Summer I Turned Pretty is a love triangle. Belly, the main female character, grows up alongside two brothers, Conrad and Jeremiah. Belly’s transition into young adulthood makes the boys see her differently, sparking years of tension and heartbreak as each vies for her attention. I quickly binged the earlier seasons, feeling that I was beyond the teenage angst, scoffing at some of the gendered stereotypes, and noting the problematic fantasies, communication issues, and somewhat toxic relationship dynamics. I am a relationship therapist after all! And yet, I kept watching. And I found out that all of my grown-ass friends were watching too.
My Instagram algorithm fell in line, showing me all of the Summer I Turned Pretty content, including reels and memes posted and re-posted by millennial moms like me. Then the content from men, also enthralled with the series, began to creep into my feed as well. “What is happening?!” I thought to myself as I voraciously consumed the show and it’s corresponding social media content. I started to actually like the show (gasp!). This phenomenon could not be explained simply by nostalgia or a love for teen romance, right? I thought, there must be more to this cultural obsession.
Obviously, the show and it’s characters resonate with something deeper: a collective longing for certain qualities in relationships that many people feel are missing in real life. While on the surface this might appear to be just another teenage melodrama, the fact that viewers have become so passionately “Team Conrad” or “Team Jeremiah” underscores a hunger for clarity around what love should feel like.
cynicism, hookup culture, and the complications of digital dating
Everyday I speak with clients who express that they are exhausted by the current cultural climate around love and dating. Many of them (due to real lived experience) assume that confusion, ghosting, heartbreak, betrayal, abuse, and disconnection are inevitable. Hookup culture, especially in the digital age, is leaving people lonely, burnt out, and craving depth rather than casual encounters and online chats that end in silence before you even meet. The simple idea in The Summer I Turned Pretty, that you can meet IRL when you’re young and get swept off your feet, is a fantasy. But it’s one I hear folks long for over and over again.
The popularity of the show clearly highlights our collective craving for grounded, real relationships. It’s almost as though we are all wired for in-person connection and the slow burn of really knowing someone deeply. Shocking revelation! Although we see the characters in The Summer I Turned Pretty using smart phones, going to college, and seeking employment, the show depicts the cast as being largely removed from the noise of technology, careers, social media, and the daily slog we all experience. And we live vicariously. Their relationships form not through dating apps, but through a long and deep shared history with each other. And again, we live vicariously. Instead of instant chemistry or following the rules of dating to avoid imminent rejection via text, these characters create deep intimacy throughout the rhythms of the seasons (usually during beautiful, perfect, beachy Summers) over many years. Isn’t that the fantasy of first and lasting love? I think so…and we all live vicariously.
The allure of being chosen
Point blank, everyone wants to be someone’s first choice, not a fleeting option. Whether it’s Rachel and Ross, Jim and Pam, Rory and Dean, Joey and Dawson (or Pacey), or countless other tv couples, we love a “will they/won’t they” storyline. This isn’t just a trope that entertains on screen, this dynamic touches something very human: the longing to be chosen above all others. Because being chosen, out of a sea of other humans, means we’re important, we’re valued, we’re safe. When we’re watching The Summer I Turned Pretty we are Belly and Belly is all of us. Belly is every audience member’s inner child experiencing the intoxicating hope that someone might see us fully, that we might be worthy of someone’s deepest devotion. In a world where many feel disposable, we want to feel irreplaceable. And the fanfare around the very satisfying finale of the show indicates how strongly we crave that moment of certainty that we are in fact chosen. Forever.
We desperately want to believe that someone would fight their own ambivalence, their trauma, and their fears, to stand in front of us and say, “I choose you of my own free will.” Perhaps that’s why we cling to shows like this. They let us live in that ache of uncertainty, and then deliver the finality of being unquestionably chosen.
What does it mean that Grown women can’t stop thinking about conrad?
The Summer I Turned Pretty resonates with adults well past their teenage years. Married people in their thirties and forties, especially straight women, are not just watching the show, but they’re swooning over Conrad in particular. If you’ve seen a woman alone in her car blasting Dress by Taylor Swift over the past few days it’s for good reason. She isn’t just vibing, she’s re-living “that scene” in The Summer I Turned Pretty, where years of longing finally culminates into something we’ve all been dying to see. And to feel. Women aren’t just replaying the track, they’re trying to reconnect with the part of themselves that exists outside of dating hardships, outside of mundanity, outside of motherhood. Case in point, this is an actual (and very funny, but poignant) message from my best friend…
As a couples therapist, I am privy to the frustratingly mundane day-to-day realities of clients’ marriages and family lives. As a spouse and mom myself, I am not immune to the ways routine and responsibilities can make even deep love feel lackluster. School pick-ups, meal planning, laundry, and navigating each other’s quirks and flaws are not very romantic. And while I spend time in my sessions with couples talking about how to manage these frustrations, I am constantly reminding them to dig deeper into what they are actually craving. And for many, especially women, the fantasy of Conrad is that he never stops being hopelessly and helplessly in love with Belly. And there it is, the true longing under all of the typical complaints.
Conrad represents the answer to a recent question that has been making its way around the internet and especially in mental health spaces: “Are men okay?” Under patriarchy, men struggle, often with emotional openness, vulnerability, and communication, all traits that they are socialized to believe are decidedly feminine and should be avoided. And these are the very traits Conrad wrestles with throughout the show. So why do women love him? Because unlike real life, we gain perspective through the lens of a camera meant to help us read his mind (along with the actor, Chris Briney’s stellar eye acting!).
The resolution at the end of the show assures us that beneath the avoidant attachment behaviors lies a depth of feeling and complexity we don’t allow ourselves to see in our own partners. Even when Conrad can be avoidant (and make no mistake, he definitely can be), or clumsy with communication, even when he pushes Belly away, the narrative reassures us that his love is consistent. He has always been, and will always be, consumed by Belly. He represents the hope of many women, married and dating, that even when a man’s behavior falters, his devotion is unquestionable.
The truth is, many relationships don’t give us the resolute certainty we all cheered for at the end of The Summer I Turned Pretty. People ghost, get divorced, or never clarify their feelings. The “will they/won’t they” in life often does not end in celebration.
If you were team Jeremiah you already know you were in the minority. While Jeremiah could be whiney, jealous, controlling, and inconsiderate, he was certainly the more emotionally available option, right? Jeremiah was more outwardly loving, fun, and expressive. So why was he hated so shamelessly by the show’s audience? Was he too consistently available? Are we conditioned to define love as something that is a struggle? that hurts and requires work?
In my opinion, what made Jeremiah so available also signaled insecurity and made his love feel reactive and selfish. Instead of feeling like a partner, he came across more like someone who needed to be parented, a threatening dynamic that may have felt too close to home for many female viewers. While Conrad’s insecurities left room for women to “fix” or “change” or “heal” him (decidedly not a great desire, but a very common fantasy), Jeremiah’s flaws appeared less like romantic conflict, and more like ongoing emotional labor for Belly (and therefore the throngs of women watching). If Conrad represents the intensity of being pined after (even if he is emotionally distant), Jeremiah represents the potential fatigue of relationships where women are asked to caretake their partner’s emotions and fragility. And clearly so many viewers said no thanks to that.
An Invitation
So what do we do with all of this insight? These are fictional characters, but rather than dismiss the show as unrealistic entertainment, perhaps we can use it to explore what we need from our own relationships. Instead of yearning for fantasy, can it be an invitation to rethink how we love, who we choose again and again against our better judgment, and how we might ask for what we need from who we’ve already chosen. Because this cultural obsession wasn’t about who was better for Belly. It was about what it awakened in us.
See you at The Summer I Turned Pretty movie!
Mariah Gallagher is a relationship therapist and owner of Relational Realm in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
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