It started out as any of my typical elliptical exercise sessions begin. I had just ended one show and was looking for something to pass the time. I had remembered the pretty shimmery underwater cover image for The Summer I Turned Pretty along with the gentle chime of the introductory music. Having loved young adult author Jenny Han’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved trilogy of films, I was intrigued to immerse myself in another one of her teen romantic dramas. What surprised me wasn’t the show—it was my reaction to it.
The story is simple enough: Asian American teen in a love triangle between brothers. The protagonist, Isabel (Belly) Conklin, spends several seasons flip flopping between the two Fisher boys, Conrad—the older moody, sensitive pre-med student—and Jeremiah an easy-natured frat boy often described as a golden retriever boyfriend. While the plot offers some additional layers of emotional complexity—the boys’ mother is diagnosed with cancer in season one—what comes to really reel in viewers is the maturation of these characters from children to early adults as they navigate emotionally tumultuous love lives.
Internet memes abound regarding middle-aged women “obsessing” over Team Conrad and Team Jeremiah in a way that echoes the fervor of Twilight’s Team Edward and Team Jacob two decades ago. Funnier still is the cultural observation that most of these older women are simply waiting for Conrad to enter the scene, completely annoyed when their viewing is interrupted by Jeremiah or tertiary storylines (such as that of Belly’s brother Stephen and her best friend Taylor). Embarrassingly, I would lump myself in with these women. But the question everyone is asking themselves, is why?
Psychological research on parasocial relationships—the one-sided emotional bonds people form with fictional characters and media figures—shows that these attachments can feel emotionally real and influence romantic ideals, even when viewers are fully aware the relationship is imaginary (Tukachinsky, 2011). The good news is that in most cases (I hope) women are not actually obsessed with a 20 something year old boy. It’s all about what Conrad represents as an archetype. Devoted, patient, loving from afar. He pays attention to all the little details that make Belly who she is. It is the type of love that many women yearn for. For those concerned, rest assured, my husband is actually quite Conrad-esque in real life.
What The Summer I Turned Pretty offers millennial viewers is innocent romantic escapism. As I once joked with a fellow obsessed millennial therapy client, I never knew a bathtub scene with two fully clothed adults (one of whom was profusely bleeding in a mildly gory way) could be so sensual. Add in the perfect Taylor Swift track set to such scenes, and it’s no wonder viewers are hooked.
Research on hedonic adaptation shows that even deeply satisfying adult lives can lose emotional intensity over time, increasing our pull toward romantic narratives that temporarily restore novelty and emotional charge. It makes sense that for viewers navigating the complexity of adulthood—whether caring for children, ailing and older parents, or simply still figuring out “adulting,”–that the unencumbered state of adolescence is so appealing. They are in the starkest sense a reminder of who we used to be, before the complexity of adulthood muddled our waters. They are also a reminder of who we still are and can access when we take a step back from it all.
Additionally, we are all painfully aware of our own teenage years of longing, confusion and hurts. The adolescent years are often marked by the transition from the innocence of childhood into the sometimes murky path of adulthood. Watching such shows are a reminder of our own path. Research on nostalgia suggests that revisiting emotionally charged periods of our past can increase feelings of meaning, connectedness, and emotional continuity—helping adults regulate stress and reconnect with earlier versions of themselves (Sedikides et al., 2015).
As such, the “Conrad Fisher Effect” is far less about dreamy young men, but rather emotional remembrance. The story allows millennial viewers to vicariously re-experience the longing and yearning of yesteryears without the actual consequences (or acne!). They are a reminder that amidst a life of obligatory adulthood routines, there is a part of us that is still capable of feeling deeply and romantic imagination. The pull of shows such as The Summer I Turned Pretty is not about wanting to go back in time, but rather reconnecting with the emotional richness we still possess.
