It’s 2025, and somehow, The Summer I Turned Pretty is still everywhere. Social media feeds are flooded with edits of Belly Conklin’s wistful stares, debates over Team Conrad versus Team Jeremiah rage on like they did back in the Twilight era, and even adults well into their thirties and forties are confessing their secret binges. I finally caved and dove into the series, expecting to “get it”—to understand why this seemingly simple teen drama has captured hearts across generations. But honestly? I’m still confused. Is it the dreamy love triangle that keeps pulling people back? The sun-soaked, beachy nostalgia that makes you long for endless summers? Or the sneaky way it tricks you into feeling 16 again, even if those awkward, hormone-fueled days are a distant memory? Maybe the real magic lies in how something so straightforward—a girl, two brothers, and a beach house—can spark endless conversations, heartbreak, and outright obsession. So, why can’t the world stop talking about it? Let’s unpack this phenomenon, from its roots in Jenny Han’s beloved books to its viral status in the streaming age.

The Origins: From Books to Binge-Worthy TV

To understand the obsession, we have to start at the beginning. The Summer I Turned Pretty is based on Jenny Han’s young adult trilogy, published between 2009 and 2011. The books follow Isabel “Belly” Conklin, a teenage girl who spends every summer at a beach house in the fictional town of Cousins Beach with her mother, brother, and their family friends—the Fishers. At the center is Belly’s coming-of-age story, intertwined with her crushes on the two Fisher brothers: the brooding, introspective Conrad and the sunny, charismatic Jeremiah. It’s a classic setup—summers filled with bonfires, swims, and first loves—but Han infuses it with deeper themes of grief, family dynamics, and self-discovery.

The TV adaptation premiered on Prime Video in 2022, with Han herself serving as showrunner for the first season. Starring Lola Tung as Belly, Christopher Briney as Conrad, and Gavin Casalegno as Jeremiah, the show quickly became a hit. Season 1 captured the essence of Han’s books while expanding on side stories, like the mothers’ friendship and the brothers’ sibling rivalry. Season 2 delved into heavier territory, including the aftermath of a major character’s death, and Season 3—the final one—wrapped up in September 2025, with episodes dropping weekly from July 16 to September 17. The finale, titled “Last Kiss,” brought Belly to Paris for a fresh start, only to pull her back into the love triangle via a letter from Conrad, leaving fans in a frenzy of emotions.

What started as a niche YA adaptation exploded into a cultural staple. By the end of Season 3, the show had drawn over 25 million viewers in its premiere week alone, tripling the audience from Season 1. But why? Part of it is timing—the show dropped during summers, aligning perfectly with its beachy aesthetic. Yet, that doesn’t fully explain the grip it has on viewers, from Gen Z teens to millennial moms.

The Dreamy Love Triangle: Team Conrad or Team Jeremiah?

Ah, the love triangle—the beating heart of The Summer I Turned Pretty and arguably the biggest reason for its obsessive fanbase. Belly’s indecision between the two brothers mirrors every teen’s (and adult’s) romantic dilemmas: Do you go for the mysterious bad boy or the reliable golden retriever? Conrad is the archetype of brooding intensity—grieving his mother’s death, he’s distant yet deeply affectionate in quiet moments. Jeremiah, on the other hand, is all sunshine: fun, supportive, and openly adoring. The show’s marketing leans hard into this divide, with “Team Conrad” and “Team Jeremiah” hashtags dominating social media.

Fans debate endlessly: One X post from a user named néa argues that the whole point is you can’t choose who you fall in love with, pointing out Belly’s futile attempt to “choose” Jeremiah while her heart stays with Conrad. Another fan, elise ∞, calls out the promotion for pretending it’s a fair fight when Conrad is clearly endgame. These discussions aren’t just casual; they’ve revived the love triangle fervor not seen since Twilight‘s Edward vs. Jacob.

But it’s not just about picking sides. The triangle taps into universal themes of unrequited love and timing. As one psychologist explains, the hype stems from how it evokes “emotional time travel,” reminding viewers of their own first crushes and heartbreaks. For adults, it’s escapism: “It reminds me of young love—being wanted by multiple boys and feeling everything for the first time,” says Courtney Gilberto, a 39-year-old mom who watches with her daughter. The show’s raw portrayal of Belly’s emotions—her joy, confusion, and pain—makes it relatable, stirring conversations that spill into group chats and watch parties.

Critics note that while the triangle drives the plot, it’s the chemistry between the actors that sells it. Tung, Briney, and Casalegno bring authenticity; their off-screen friendships (seen in viral behind-the-scenes clips) add layers. Yet, some argue it’s predictable—Belly and Conrad’s connection is the show’s core, with Jeremiah often feeling like the “brother who’s always there.” Still, the debates keep the obsession alive.

Beachy Nostalgia: Summers That Never End

If the love triangle is the hook, the beachy nostalgia is the reel that pulls you in. Set in Cousins Beach, the show is a visual love letter to summer: golden-hour sunsets, ocean swims, Fourth of July fireworks, and lazy days in a sprawling beach house. It’s an idealized escape, where problems feel solvable under the sun. As one fan on Reddit puts it, “It reminds me a lot of the summer I turned pretty… where everything was magical and alive.”

Nostalgia is key here. For Gen Z, it’s a pop culture staple, a bonding tool in an era of isolated streaming. For millennials and older, it’s “a form of emotional time travel,” as dating coach Kate Mansfield describes, evoking “first crushes, heartbreaks, and summers full of hope.” The soundtrack—featuring Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, and indie gems—amplifies this, with songs like Swift’s “The Way I Loved You” mirroring Belly’s turmoil.

The show’s structure enhances this: Flashbacks blend past and present, showing how childhood bonds evolve. Even heavier themes, like loss and family strife, are wrapped in summery warmth, making heartbreak feel poignant rather than overwhelming. As Northeastern University’s Steve Granelli notes, the familiar archetypes appeal to real-life experiences. It’s why viewers like one X user feel “obsessed and then sad because it isn’t your life.”

Crossing Generations: Why Adults Are Hooked

One of the most baffling aspects for me is how The Summer I Turned Pretty transcends its teen target audience. It’s not just kids watching; adults are obsessed too. Vogue asks, “Why Every Millennial Woman You Know Is Suddenly Watching,” citing how it takes teen desires seriously. ELLE echoes this, noting it blends “nostalgia, emotional intensity, and romantic fantasy.”

Psychologically, it’s about reliving youth without the mess. Forbes explains that the idealized summers offer a “window into an idealized adolescence.” For parents, it’s bonding time—watching with kids sparks talks about love and growth. But there’s a voyeuristic thrill: Adults enjoy the drama from afar, judging Belly’s choices while reminiscing.

The show’s depth helps: It tackles grief (Susannah’s cancer), mental health (Conrad’s anxiety), and feminism through the mothers’ stories. This maturity draws older viewers, turning a “teen romance” into something more.

Fan Culture and the Social Media Storm

The obsession wouldn’t be complete without the fans. X (formerly Twitter) is a hotbed: Hashtags like #TSITP trend with edits, theories, and memes. One post from Heartless ⸆⸉ praises Episode 5 of Season 3 for its perfect chemistry, calling Belly and Conrad “meant to be.” Another user confesses, “I’m 25 and somehow it feels weird that I’m so invested.”

TikTok and Instagram amplify this—brands like Delta and Panera join in with themed content. Watch parties, as The Guardian notes, create community. NPR highlights how it “took over the internet.” Even celebs weigh in, making it a conversation starter.

The cast fuels this: Briney’s watch obsession or Tung’s interviews keep fans engaged. Deviations from books, like expanded plots, spark debates but deepen investment.

My Confusion: Is It Really That Simple?

Despite all this, I’m still puzzled. The plot can feel cheesy—endless misunderstandings, predictable twists. Some Reddit users question its popularity compared to other shows, blaming streaming fragmentation. Belly’s “mixed signals” draw criticism, and the nostalgia can border on escapism from real issues.

Yet, maybe that’s the point: Its simplicity is its strength. In a complex world, a story about summer love offers comfort. As one fan says, “If it makes me happy, it can’t be that unhealthy.”

Conclusion: The Magic of Endless Summers

So, why can’t the world stop talking about The Summer I Turned Pretty? It’s the perfect storm: a captivating love triangle, beachy nostalgia that transports you, cross-generational appeal, and a fan culture that keeps the conversation going. Even in its finale, with Belly in Paris and Conrad’s letter teasing more heartbreak, the show leaves us yearning for those endless summers. Maybe I’m still confused because the obsession defies logic—it’s emotional, visceral, and utterly human. In the end, that’s the real magic: a simple story that stirs something profound, making us all feel pretty obsessed.