The Summer I Turned Pretty Season 3: 13 Reasons why this show is peak drama and episode 9 isn't helping

Hate-watching shows has officially become a national pastime, and The Summer I Turned Pretty Season 3 is Exhibit A.

The internet’s at war, the characters are pretty insufferable, and the only thing worth rooting for is that gorgeous summer house at Lake Cousins. Let’s break it down.

Belly, Jeremiah, Conrad. Or as I like to call them: Bland, Blander, and Blandest. None of them have chemistry. None of them can communicate. And yet here we are, three seasons later, still watching them sulk, pine, and ruin perfectly good beach views.

A wedding cake they can’t afford, vows they’re too immature to write, and delusions of forever love? Who greenlit “teen matrimony” as a binge-worthy plot? Stop glorifying Gen Z playing house.

Apparently, Jeremiah and Conrad are siblings who refuse to speak to each other—except when it’s to fight over Belly like she’s a limited-edition Stanley cup. Therapy, anyone?

Forget Belly and her two pouty suitors—the beach house is the real star. I’d watch a spin-off where the house kicks them out and rents itself to adults who actually know how to function.

Yes, they’re all pretty. Yes, Instagram loves them. But pretty only gets you so far when your dialogue makes you sound like you’ve been possessed by a rejected Hallmark script.

Amazon had to post “Hey, stop bullying the actors” notes on TikTok. Jenny Han begged fans to calm down. Memes of Belly getting slapped? Sick. Y’all, it’s fiction. Jeremiah isn’t real. Conrad isn’t real. Belly isn’t real. But the online unhingedness? Tragically real.

Rolling Stone wasn’t kidding: the fan battles have gotten “borderline psychotic.” It’s like Twilight fandom wars all over again—minus the sparkly vampires, plus a lot more TikTok toxicity.

Poor Gavin Casalegno (Jeremiah) literally told the NYT he stopped checking Instagram because of the hate. Imagine getting roasted online daily for playing a fictional fiancé no one wants you to be.

Amazon posted all summer about “keeping the conversation kind.” Spoiler: it’s not working. Hate speech is thriving, and the comment sections are more toxic than the Cousins Beach love triangle.

The author-turned-showrunner keeps dangling the carrot: “The show’s ending might not be like the book.” Translation: “Please keep watching, we swear it’s not that bad.”

Watching this season feels like sitting through group therapy where everyone’s crying but no one’s actually doing the work. Exhausting.

Tweets about killing off characters, TikToks about who “deserves to die,” and endless hot takes about which brother Belly should marry? This isn’t fandom—it’s mass hysteria with filters.

In the books, Belly went with her heart and chose on of the brothers for good. In the show, who knows? At this point, I hope she chooses herself—or better yet, the summer house. In other words, Season 3 is proof that pretty people plus lush beach views is not equal to good television. Fans are spiraling, actors are getting cyberbullied, and Jenny Han is out here trying to convince us there’s “magic on screen.” Sorry, Jenny. The only magic left is how this show keeps getting renewed.