Manipulated, Not Moved: Why The Summer I Turned Pretty’s Attempt to Push Bonrad Feels Hollow
The growing frustration with The Summer I Turned Pretty Season 3 stems from its focus on telling us why Belly and Conrad must be together by the end, despite not building a strong enough narrative to support this.
Is this an unpopular opinion? Of course.
Legions of fans, book readers, casual individuals who only know of the series by proxy, and even brands (in a brand and marketing push that may have started slightly amusing at some point but has since grown obnoxious and dystopian), are rooting for Conrad.
Writing 101: Show, Don’t Tell
And it’s fine that people are so passionate about this, but my issue is that this final season has done nothing to justify why that should be the case.
As someone with no strong feelings about the ships either way, I would’ve expected a final season that did its diligence, finally pushing me into one direction or another with a compelling journey that wins me over.
But TSITP doesn’t do that, not in the least. Essentially, as I tune into the series week after week, the only real takeaway for why Bonrad is the ultimate and perfect endgame is “because.”
Because what? Is it because “plot?” Because that’s what the book dictated? Is it because that’s just the mass consensus?
Because we’re dipping into 90s nostalgia with romanticizing handsome but troublesome male leads by repurposing their flaws as sympathetic or admirable attributes that no one should question?
Narratively, there was ample space to lead us down this journey and to make this conclusion. Instead, it feels like the season is spoonfeeding us, dare I even say forcefeeding us, why it has always been Conrad, without actually having to do any of the work to make it a worthwhile story.
And it could be sufficient for people who have always rooted for Conrad to win over Belly. If you started a ‘shipper, one is simply happy that they could be getting a payoff regardless of how it happens.
Anything for the Outcome
But for the rare few of us, presumably, it only exposes the pitfalls of this series regarding tying itself so inextricably to an outcome that it has lost sight of character development, journey, and real depth.
The disjointed nature of this season from previous ones in some aspects has me legitimately feeling as if the series is actively gaslighting me for the sole purpose of selling its endgame instead of just allowing the plot to unravel cohesively and effectively to lead me there.
It’s downright insulting at this point, but that’s a conversation for another day, assuming there’s even energy for it.
As a character-driven girl, this season is frustrating because it constantly shafts the characters solely to reach the anticipated climax.
We’ve touched on some of what the series has done with Jeremiah, and how this deeply impacts a chronically undermined Belly.
But here’s where it’s become such a disservice to Conrad.
Character Development? Nah. Narrative Shortcutting
The way to prove to Belly and the viewers that he’s the most worthwhile suitor isn’t to beat us over the head with an endless stream of flashbacks (most of which have the opposite effect, more on that momentarily).
Narratively, the best way to deliver on that was to SHOW us his growth and evolution.
Instead, the series gives us a bunch of lip service and a throwaway scene or two and thinks that’s sufficient to do the heavy lifting.
Conrad and Belly didn’t work out because of Conrad’s own flaws and issues, not because of Jeremiah, which he needed to work through.
We spent over half of the series seeing how his mental health struggles, grief, and so forth deeply affected him and how that may have manifested in some of his behaviors and toxicity. And make no mistake, Conrad has been toxic.
He does not get a pass on inflicting emotional and mental anguish and damage on those around him because he is going through things. His issues are to explain and maybe add some context to his behavior and actions, not justify or excuse them.
So, despite this God-awful time jump that continues to ruin so much of this final season, we get to see one solid scene of Conrad in therapy, and it’s to alert us that he has been seeing someone and trying to work through things.
But then, that’s all we got. TSITP lets us sit through Conrad at his darkest, as he struggles, and we follow along with that specific journey, but then, when it’s time to see the payoff from it, actually invest in his journey toward healing, enlightenment, and growth, it all takes place off-screen.
Flashbacks as Band-Aids, Baby!
That is not satisfying to the narrative or even for genuine fans of his character journey as an individual person, not solely a romantic hero. It’s like trying to sustain yourself on freeze-dried Skittles — it looks pretty and tastes fun, but ultimately, it’s unfulfilling.
We’re supposed to take their word that Conrad has evolved because he walks around the beach house with a hammer, or he has randomly started dressing like a suburban dad who carpools.
These elements are how the series tries to overcorrect Conrad because there’s at least some awareness that he had some things he needed to work through.
But this ironically also hampers the endgame sell as well. By focusing so much on ensuring that Conrad reads as the shiny, bright, perfect romantic lead, they have done a number on hindering Belly’s growth and development as well.
There often feels like such a stark contrast between the two — that their dynamic feels incredibly imbalanced. And the flashbacks have not helped that either.
In the present, Conrad’s particular brand of “chivalry” at best comes across as fraternal and at worst paternalistic, patronizing, or controlling. I know it’s not supposed to read that way at all, which is what makes the entire thing more bizarre than romantic for me.
Conrad not respecting Belly’s words and agency because he’s trying to be a gentleman is a double-edged sword here. His “babying” her in the name of saving her from herself or protecting her doesn’t read as romantic as the series intends, either.
But WHY Though?
And in the flashbacks, their childhood ones feel incredibly sibling-like, which often dispels the notion that it’s soul-mate, endless love. The series throws these into the fray in abundance, hoping to backdraft a backstory to justify the endgame, when, to some (surely I’m not alone in this), it undermines their point.
Is the infinite loop symbol a sign of endless, forever romance now, or just going around in the same circle with no growth? Inquiring minds want to know!
TSITP spends more time this season trying to orchestrate the perfect buzzy moments that derive from the books, but drops the ball everywhere else.
The peach scene? Mostly visually satisfying for diehard fans, but without Belly’s narration or insight, it’s another moment where we didn’t know where she stood, even at that moment.
The wound-cleaning scene was gorgeous from a cinematographic aspect, but everything surrounding it came together poorly.
And The Summer I Turned Pretty Season 3 Episode 7 was an installment where it was clear that the only real devotion to the plot was whatever it took to set up the highly anticipated beach confession.
But for those of us who weren’t as invested or easily moved or swayed, from our perspective, it’s just a bunch of flashy moments with no satisfying buildup or storytelling in between.
And then comes the beach confession.
For longtime book shippers, it’s the big moment. But for viewers craving earned storytelling, it only rehashes Conrad’s worst flaws: poor communication, boundary-pushing, and waiting until the eleventh hour to say what he feels. His timing reads less as romantic and more as manipulative.
It didn’t make me any closer to rooting for their endgame; if anything, it put me off further. #TeamTherapy
It’s Connie’s World, We Just Live In It … Confused
Conrad Fisher is always thinking and feeling everything in the world, but he’s never saying anything at all. It’s no one else’s job in his life to be a mindreader, and it’s patently unfair that the narrative likes to hold people to account for all the things he chooses not to say.
A Conrad who took anything away from therapy would’ve been able to work through these feelings for Belly over time. Part of the problem is that he never spoke to his therapist about her and their relationship.
Given that so much of his livelihood revolves around it, that’s incredibly concerning and doesn’t bode well, now does it? If he cannot even adequately express himself and be vulnerable in therapy, then how can he ever manage a healthy, productive relationship with anyone, Belly included?
Conrad had four and a half years to address Belly again, apologize for the emotional rollercoaster he’d put her through (which he’d been doing the entire series), and maybe put himself out there.
But he didn’t. If he didn’t find out about Cabo, would he have ever told Belly how he felt? Why does he only take action and initiative when he feels like he could lose her permanently?
And why can’t simply loving her be enough for him to make these gestures? Why is he allowed to claim self-sacrifice when he’s actually self-sabotaging and making unilateral decisions based on his own internal thoughts rather than actual conversations with his loved ones?
Call the Therapist! Demand a Refund!
Better yet, why is he finally telling her he loves her days before her wedding, and he couldn’t muster up the ability to do that before?
The narrative frames all of these things as Conrad serving as a tragic hero and even romanticizes his crappy communication skills, yearning, and his tragic background.
Belly finally gets her moment to tell him hard truths about herself, and even that gets undermined because it’s tinged in romantic longing. And the consensus is that she’s a mean person for breaking his heart.
We’ve seen how much loving Conrad has hurt her since the series began. As she noted, he gives his love and takes it back. And it’s not just to her, but to everyone around him — we see it with his dynamic with his brother as well.
He lashes out at her when he’s not doing well. He pushes her away, belittles, and demeans her when he’s not in the best place. And he doesn’t respect her word, her agency, or her choices.
This is hard for some people to grasp, but Conrad’s intentions or the fact that he means well do not erase his harm. Period. Everyone else doesn’t have to grapple with his intentions, only his actions, his words, and his behavior
We’ve seen it countless times throughout the series. Conrad always sets the tone of the dynamic, the temperature in the room, and the terms for when he wants to deal with something.
By showing us on that beach that he’s still exhibiting the same behaviors that disrupted their relationship, I’m at a loss for what I’m supposed to glean about his apparent growth and why they should be together.
Because Jere– Shh! We’re Discussing Conrad
He didn’t respect her boundaries, got vitriolic, and dropped this bomb on her four years too late (well, for normal people, but this TSITP). Conrad presents himself as the authority on what’s best for Belly, yet he fails to account for his four-year absence from her life and never offers an apology.
And he even implies that she’s somehow not living up to his fantasy view of her. I understand that it was supposed to be a romantic, angsty declaration, but it was more alarming and frustrating than anything else.
Even still, if the series stays true to the books, this pairing is an endgame. And thus far, the most they’ve sold is that she has a Conrad obsession. And his love for her hinges on the fact that he’s self-loathing but he likes the way she looks at him. Okay?
I’m unsure how we can realistically reach that point in the remaining episodes in a way that makes narrative sense and is satisfying.
What the season ultimately sells isn’t why Belly and Conrad belong together — but simply that they do, because the story says so. It’s less about building a compelling love story and more about discrediting Jeremiah as the alternative. That’s not romance; it’s a process of elimination.
Everything is Happening, and Nothing is Happening, and I’m Tired
And that’s not an engrossing way to approach the love story.
It’s poorly constructed and executed. And that remains irritating.
Are we supposed to want this Belly and Conrad endgame because they’re the right people for each other? Or because it’s what the narrative dictates? Or it’s because Conrad really, really, really wants, and that takes narrative precedence?
It’s the summer I turned frustrated indeed.
Watch The Summer I Turned Pretty Online
Yes, I know. Unpopular opinion. Hot take. Bold take. Anger. Uproar. Upset. Agree? Disagree? Sharpening your pitchforks? Surely, you’ll tell us about it.
Let us know in the comments, or share this article with someone who will want to argue and debate about it with you or complain about it with you. That’s what makes it fun.
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