Season three of Jenny Han’s The Summer I Turned Pretty yielded great things: a satisfying conclusion for Team Conrad, a stunning soundtrack and a unanimous war cry to ‘bring back men who yearn,’ courtesy of Conrad Fisher’s pining.

Whether silently loving Belly from across the room or longing for the forbidden fruit he once tasted, as peach juice drips down her chin in the golden, late-summer haze, Conrad has become an emblem of modern yearning. Tormented by the battle between his loyalty to his feelings and to his brother, Conrad stands as the patron saint of quiet yet complete devotion – and the face that launched a thousand edits. However, yearning is far from new, existing for as long as storytelling itself, which leads us to wonder about its sudden resurgence.

Fundamentally, yearning is best encapsulated as a slow-burning ache; the chasm between two souls who hold endless possibilities but just can’t seem to reach far enough to meet in the middle. Stolen glances, message drafts and unspoken words hang in the air, mixing love with hesitation and passion with constraint, in a way that feels almost sacred.

Mixing love with hesitation and passion with constraint, in a way that feels almost sacred

Jenny Han is no stranger to this effect. For instance, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before features another quintessential ‘yearner’, simultaneously sustained and restrained by love. Refreshingly, Lara Jean Covey steps away from the ‘above love’ trope, instead showing her love of romance but fear of closeness, resisting representations of women wanting love as a sign of weakness.

Lara Jean keeps her feelings sealed in unsent letters, choosing to love in her imagination until her fantasies materialise at her door. If Conrad embodies the male ‘yearner’, Lara Jean stands as his predecessor; the quiet dreamer who loves deeply but distantly.

However, crowning Conrad Fisher as the ultimate ‘yearner’ would be precipitous, considering the lineage of yearning forefathers. Strong contenders include Noah Calhoun building Allie’s dream house in The Notebook, Luke Danes tucking a scribble Lorelai wrote the day they met inside his wallet for eight years in Gilmore Girls, Laurie and his gut-wrenching hilltop confession in Greta Gerwig’s Little Women, or Jim gazing across the room at Pam sat five feet away, oblivious and engaged in The Office.

Additionally, Bollywood’s kings of yearning mustn’t be overlooked. For example, Veer Pratap Singh spending 22 years imprisoned, anchored only by Zara’s safety and her anklet in his pocket, its twin resting on her ankle. Also, Aman Mathur, who sacrifices his love, racing against his life’s clock to ensure Naina’s future, with the promise of spending every other life with her instead; a yearning that transcends the veil of life and death.

Perhaps this is why The Summer I Turned Pretty resonated so deeply. Beneath the coastal Americana aesthetic lies the bones of a vintage melodrama. With Christopher Briney’s DiCaprio-esque performance, Conrad’s yearning feels nostalgic, reminding us of when love stories were allowed to ache.

Conrad’s yearning feels nostalgic, reminding us of when love stories were allowed to ache

The audience’s response to the yearn is telling, if the trope has existed as long as it has, why the sudden demand? Perhaps it’s due to the increasing rarity of yearning as a possibility today. Modern romance often feels instant and transactional rather than rooted in time and effort.

Filtering connection through apps and algorithmic matches leaves little room for longing. The immediacy of a world built on swipes and situationships removes the patience needed for the yearn, to love slowly, devotedly, and ungoverned by convenience.

Conrad’s letters to Paris demonstrate the kind of patience and effort replaced today by the instant dopamine of a DM. With Forbes reporting that 79% of Gen Z dating app users feel burnt out, the fantasy of someone loving quietly, unconditionally, and even unrequitedly feels almost radical.

The renewed appetite for onscreen yearning also aligns with a growing appreciation for depictions of the female gaze. Romance has long been dominated by the male lens, over-focused on heroic action rather than emotion, and conquest rather than connection. Women writers, however, have reclaimed the genre, exploring internal conflict and emotional complexity that transcend hollow, hyper-masculine archetypes.

Conrad’s appeal perhaps lies in this sweet spot. While he embodies certain heroic traits in his protectiveness and loyalty, he develops beyond being cool or casual about love, instead he is unapologetically undone by it.

The paradox of the painful ache of wanting without resolution and the beauty of being wanted

At the end of it all, no one seems to want to be the ‘yearner’, but to be yearned for is another story. The paradox of the painful ache of wanting without resolution and the beauty of being wanted lies at the heart of all great love stories.

While Conrad Fisher may not be the first to embody this kind of longing, in this moment he has indeed become its most recognisable face. And in an era governed by immediacy, he stands as a reminder that sometimes, the slow burn is the whole point.

 

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Looking for more? Check out these articles:

Review: The Summer I Turned Pretty 

Character Spotlight: Belly Conklin 

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