In the summer of 2009, I was 14-years-old, vacationing with friends on a lake in small-town New Zealand. The weather was faultless, water glassy, and our wardrobe consisted solely of crop tops and jean shorts. And yet, my friends and I fantasized about being 10,000 miles away, in the beating rain, dressed in hoodies and converse. Specifically, wanted to be in Forks, Washington, with Edward Cullen, or Jacob Black. 

Reading the Twilight series for the first time was transcendent, not because Bella Swan was such a compelling character or Stephanie Meyer's gift for storytelling, but the fact that Bella had to choose between two impossibly hot men. As a reader or viewer, you were Team Edward or Team Jacob, period, and that debate divided friend groups, and kept audiences seated for sequels. And the love triangle trope didn't stop at Twilight. Think: Peeta, Katniss and Gale in The Hunger Games, Elena, Stefan and Damon of The Vampire Diaries, and Rory, Dean and Jess in Gilmore Girls.

The latest trio to grip the nation is obviously that of Conrad, Isabel 'Belly' (kind of 'Bella Swan' no?) and Jeremiah. In this latest season, which, by the way, everyone from teens to a 40-year-old friend of mine seems to be watching, Belly becomes engaged to Jeremiah before—spoiler alert—ultimately ending up with his older brother Conrad. The ending stayed true to that of the books, and was supposed to satisfy the Team Conrad fans (who seemed to be the majority). And yet...

Still, there has to be something about love triangles that does something to us on a fundamental, chemical level that keeps us coming back. After giving it some thought, the basis on which Bella, Belly, Elena, Rory and Katniss's stories all begin is that they are ordinary girls. They're not hot, but they are all pretty-ish. Some are smart-ish or athletic-ish. Some are just kind of ish all-round. Normies. But they have something, the way we all like to believe we have something. They are us, and we are them. 

For that reason, it's easy to project ourselves onto these girls, and when we do, we become the object of the two heartthrob's affections. That makes consuming this kind of content naturally ego-boosting, and also soothing, because we, as humans, crave the opportunity to resolve a dilemma without real stakes being involved. We aren't going to hurt Jeremiah or Conrad, so we can pick sides without real consequence. 

Participating in shows like this also creates real community. Even though my choice to be Team Jacob caused strife among my friends; relishing in the delayed gratification of a will-they-won't-they, and dissecting the nuances of the relationships on screen, brought us closer together. My man may not have won in the end (for the record: I do NOT stan Renesemée), but I certainly found myself in the center of some stimulating conversation along the way. 

What's difficult about The Summer I Turned Pretty—much like The Vampire Diaries—is that it it fundamentally oriented its entire narrative arc around one woman who is torn between two brothers. Sure, there might be mothers diagnosed with cancer or people becoming werewolves, but at the end of the day, Belly and Elena both had to choose who they wanted to end up with. And as much as a writer's room can try to drag it out the decision, a decision must be—and was, in each case—made. 

But Prime said wait—that's not all. After the finale, the streamer announced that Belly and the gang's journey is ongoing, and we should gear up for The Summer I Turned Pretty: The Movie. Unbelievably, Jenny Han and co. will be forced to pull together another plot about a girl who cannot make up her mind, and her first love, and his brother. I cannot say I envy them. That said, will I be watching, and will you? In both cases, probably yes. I want to see who wins.