Where's My Conrad Fisher?

Where’s My Conrad Fisher?

Written by ella mordarski

art by lauren mallett

When I die I want my headstone to say I was Team Conrad. I need my future lineage to know I stood on the right side of history when it came to The Summer I Turned Pretty.

I first read the novels by Jenny Han when I was in middle school. They were everything a hopeless romantic could ever want, and gave me butterflies I can still feel a sense of today. The pages were filled with classic, romantic troupes, but still had the emotional complexity that comes with becoming a young woman. With every chapter I fell deeper in love with the characters Han had created. However, there was always one character that had my heart unlike the rest: Conrad Fisher.

Oh Connie baby! From the second you appeared on the page I knew you would be one of my best parasocial relationships. Conrad was penned perfectly and his written presence was addictive like a shot of liquor. Brooding and introverted, Conrad was the definition of “you always want what you can’t have.” Every time you thought he couldn’t possibly get more attractive, he did, and executed it in such an irresistible way. As the novels progressed, Conrad just kept getting more and more alluring. He became emotionally vulnerable, made romantic gestures, and even wrote physical letters to the girl he had been pining for since childhood. All after his mother had died from cancer no less.

If The Summer I Turned Pretty books gave me unrealistic expectations for men, the adaptation ruined them for me permanently. The television version of Conrad goes to therapy regularly, dresses in some strapping coastal fits, can pull off a seamless U-turn, and knows his way around a fireplace. Pair all this with actor Chris Briney’s good looks, soundtracked by Taylor Swift songs, and you’ve got my version of kryptonite. I’m not the only one with a Conrad addiction, either. The internet is plagued with others who would also “risk it all” for the eldest Fisher boy.

So, why do we love Conrad so much? Unfortunately, I fear it’s because he is the most unrealistic fantasy of a straight man to ever exist. Conrad is the whole unobtainable package, wrapped in a handsome actor, gifted to us by a woman. He was specifically manufactured for Gen Z and Millennials, who have spent most of their lives surrounded by a dating landscape similar to a haunted house.

We are all somewhat envious and rageful of Belly. She got to skip all the shitty parts of dating like scrolling on the apps and meeting their parents. Instead Belly had a boy spend years yearning for her while he was becoming an oncologist, before confessing his feelings on a beach, and having a steamy sex marathon in Paris. Oh, and to really drive the knife in the jugular, Belly gets access to a multi-million dollar house in Cape Cod for the rest of her life.

Is it bad to indulge in the fantasy of Conrad Fisher? Absolutely not. I’ll be rewatching the show and patiently waiting for the movie like the addict I am. However, don’t go looking for your own Conrad Fisher because he doesn’t exist. If anything, date with the mindset to not find your Jeremiah Fisher.