I do this thing at parties.
I ask people: “So, who do you root for, Tom or Summer?” Even if the vodka mixer doesn’t quite kickstart the conversation, this question always seems to do the trick. And let me tell you, things heat up fast.
On one side, you’ve got the Summer supporters, who argue that she was always clear about her boundaries from the start — “she never wanted anything serious.” While the Tom defenders fire back, “But you catch feelings over time. How could you do all of that and call it casual?” But it always circles back to the same question, one echoed by Chappell Roan when she asks: “so… is it casual now?”
Are We Really Okay with Casual?
Seriously though, what does casual really mean? Can people truly embrace and understand the idea of a so-called “casual” relationship? The fact that we’re still dissecting Tom and Summer’s dynamic — or endlessly discussing Carrie Bradshaw and Mr. Big — suggests that we might not be as comfortable with this whole idea as we think. We keep inventing new words all the time — situationships, for instance — to define what can’t be neatly labeled.
Labels. It’s ironic how there are now more labels than ever, yet it seems infinitely harder to call someone your “boyfriend” or “girlfriend.” The line between what two people can do without proper labels has never been blurrier, so it’s no wonder we are still stuck in the middle of this debate.
For those of you needing a refresher on 500 Days of Summer, allow me to catch you up. Tom Hansen is what you would call a hopeless romantic. He’s the nice guy, the loverboy, one who falls head-over-heels just because of a shared love for The Smiths and Bananafish. Summer Finn, on the other hand, doesn’t quite believe in love; one minute she kisses you in the copy room, and another she tells you that you’re only friends. Despite their obvious incompatibility, they start something we’d call “a casual relationship.” What follows is an emotional tug-of-war. When Tom tries to pull Summer into commitment, Summer pushes away. When he backs off, she reels him in again. It’s this agonizing cycle of mixed signals that fuels this ongoing argument about who’s right and who’s wrong.
What Wasn’t Summer Sure Of?
So what is it that makes this argument so intense? It’s because after months of their back-and-forth, they eventually break it off and Summer later marries someone else. When Tom asks her why, she simply says there was something about her husband she was sure of — something she never felt with him. This leaves us baffled again: if Summer could commit to the whole label bit, and even marriage, what did Tom do wrong?
One brunch, a friend and I were going on about the whole “manic pixie dream girl” trope in movies when we suddenly realized that it might help explain what happened between Tom and Summer. Tom has always romanticized Summer. He saw her through rose-tinted glasses, finding beauty in things like her heart-shaped birthmark and her crooked teeth, and turning everything they do into some dreamy, cinematic experience. In his mind, it was all part of this perfect, quirky love story.
The reality, however, was that Summer was far from flawless. She wasn’t just the dream girl who loved the Smiths, or enjoyed roleplaying at IKEA. She was a fully-fleshed human, who was deeply uncommunicative, with an abundance of unresolved issues of her own, and – just hear me out on this – she was aware of the way Tom idealized her.
That scared her.
Someone once told me that when you’re in love, you naturally see the other person in this magical light. While that’s sweet, I have to wonder — isn’t that far too much pressure? To be loved for a version of yourself that you don’t even recognize? While we may never know precisely what Summer needed, Tom’s fantasy version of her certainly wasn’t it.
So… Who Wins?
Frankly, Tom and Summer each represent the various points we inhabit in our own romantic journeys. Two years ago, I’d fall for someone just because we liked the same niche album. Now, freshly into my twenties, I push away anything that could potentially be worthwhile because I don’t always know what I want. The early twenties love life crisis really is a thing.
A guy I met told me that he sees a lot of himself in Tom, which actually helped him reflect on how pathetic he’d acted in a past relationship. There’s another close friend of mine who admits she identifies with Summer’s tendency to “detach” whenever things start to get serious.
One could watch the movie at different stages in their lives and uncover layers of themselves in both characters. We could easily be the Tom to someone’s Summer, or the Summer’s to someone’s Tom, and that’s exactly why there’s never going to be a side that’s universally agreed upon. Some might argue that if only Tom and Summer had focused on the “c” in communication instead of casual, things might have worked out. Sure, communication can perhaps save a relationship, but sometimes, the hard truth is that the other person is simply not the one.
While we may never get any real closure with this debate, I for one genuinely love how divided the opinions are. The side a person takes often reveals a lot about their experiences with love, or how they view relationships. It’s that one-hit question that instantly tells you who you’re dealing with. And although I usually dislike ambiguity, I must admit I’ve enjoyed keeping this discourse alive through parties and gatherings — it’s become quite a guilty pleasure of mine.
So, if you’re at a party, and you’re vibing with someone, maybe try asking them this question — you might learn a lot. And lastly, a word of advice, if you’re still waiting around hoping for something casual to flip its coin, do yourself a favor: rewatch 500 Days of Summer. You might just find out why that’s a bad idea.
