How Old Is Conrad In Season One

Let’s be honest—when you binge a new show, the first thing you do after the credits roll isn’t checking the plot. It’s frantically Googling, “Wait, how old is he supposed to be?” That’s exactly what happened to me with Conrad in Season One. I mean, we’ve all been there: you’re three episodes deep, snuggled under a blanket, and suddenly you realize you have no idea if you’re rooting for a high school kid or a jaded college sophomore.

So, spoiler alert for your sanity: Conrad is a senior in high school in Season One, which puts him at 17, turning 18 during the show’s timeline. I know, I know—he acts like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, which is basically the emotional equivalent of a 45-year-old accountant during tax season. But no, he’s still buying his own prom tickets, people.

Why does his age even matter?

Think about your own life for a second. Remember being 17 and feeling like every tiny misunderstanding was a five-act Shakespearean tragedy? That’s Conrad. His age is the key to understanding why he’s so brooding and closed-off. He’s not just being dramatic for fun—he’s a kid dealing with adult-sized problems, like his mom’s illness and a family that’s falling apart.

If he were 30, we’d all be yelling at the screen, “Get therapy, dude!” But at 17, we give him a pass because, let’s face it, we’ve all cried in a car over something that now seems silly. His age makes his grumpiness relatable, not annoying. It’s the difference between a toddler throwing a tantrum (cute, forgivable) and a grown man doing the same (call security).

Let’s break it down like a school schedule

Season One takes place over one summer, right before his senior year. So, if you’re counting on your fingers like I did, he’s 17 at the start. That’s the age where you can drive a car but can’t legally buy a lottery ticket—what a scam, am I right?

Here’s the thing: his age directly shapes his relationship with Belly. She’s 16, and he’s a year older, which feels like a huge deal when you’re in high school. It’s the equivalent of being a freshman and dating a junior—suddenly, you’re the cool kid, but also terrified of their curfew.

If you’ve ever been the younger sibling or friend in that dynamic, you know the vibe. He’s old enough to drive her around, but young enough to still get grounded for sneaking out. That messy in-between is exactly where the drama lives.

The “almost adult” trap

Here’s a fun daily-life comparison: Conrad is like that one friend who gets their learner’s permit and suddenly thinks they’re a Formula 1 driver. He’s technically a minor, but he’s also making decisions that would make a 40-year-old sweat. He handles his mom’s cancer diagnosis, manages his brother’s anger, and still tries to be a normal teenager—all while his brain is literally still developing.

That’s why his age is the secret ingredient of the whole show. If he were younger, his actions would seem childish. If he were older, his choices would look irresponsible. But at 17, he’s in that perfect storm of emotional chaos and hormonal overload that we all survived (barely).

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And let’s not forget the birthday episode—yes, there’s a turning-18 moment. That’s when he legally becomes an adult, but honestly, his maturity level is still stuck in a parking lot at a house party. It’s like turning 21 and ordering a fancy cocktail, but you’re still eating chicken nuggets for dinner. We’ve all been there.

Why you should care (yes, YOU)

Because knowing his age changes how you watch the show. Suddenly, his angry outbursts at his dad make sense—he’s a kid trying to be a man too fast. His push-pull with Belly isn’t just “bad boy behavior”; it’s a 17-year-old who’s terrified of falling in love while his world is crashing down.

Plus, it gives you a great excuse to text your best friend: “OMG, he’s only 17?! That makes so much sense now.” It’s the ultimate icebreaker at brunch, trust me.

Most importantly, it’s a reminder that age is more than a number—it’s a filter for how we judge people. When you watch a teenage character, you root for them because you remember your own awkward, messy, confusing year of being 17. You forgive them for the stupid things they say because you once said worse.

So, next time you rewatch Season One (because we all do), keep Conrad’s age in your back pocket. It’s the cheat code to cracking his brooding shell. And remember: if he ever acts too mature, just picture him trying to buy a movie ticket alone—still can’t see R-rated films without an adult. That’s your guy.

In the end, Conrad is exactly as old as he needs to be: young enough to break your heart, but old enough to drive you crazy. Just like your favorite childhood memory—or that one high school crush you never got over. Now go rewatch and smile knowing you’ve cracked the code.