Love, Loss, and Lessons: The Subtle Psychology of 500 Days of Summer

How Attachment Styles Shape the Emotional Journey of Tom and Summer

There are already countless articles and video essays debating who the real "bad guy" is in 500 Days of Summer: Tom or Summer. But I don't want to contribute to that (though, for the record, I don’t believe either are villains. They’re simply flawed individuals with differing perspectives, each craving love in unhealthy ways that ultimately led to hurting one another. But I digress). Instead, I’m here to explore how this movie left me in awe as a mental health professional while also making me deeply uncomfortable as a 23-year-old single human still in the slow process of healing.

So, buckle up. We're about to learn a little bit about attachment theory, how Tom and Summer are a recipe for heartbreak, and what I learned from this movie.

Attachment Styles: The Psychology Behind the Characters

From a psychological standpoint, 500 Days of Summer brilliantly showcases the dynamics of a relationship where one person has an anxious attachment style and the other, an avoidant attachment style. If you’re unfamiliar with these terms, don’t worry—I’ll skip the jargon and get straight to the heart of it. Attachment theory suggests that we all have different ways of connecting with others, largely influenced by how secure or insecure we feel about the reciprocation of our love.

• Anxious: People with this style worry about their relationships, hence the name. They’re anxious, always craving closeness but fearing abandonment or not being loved enough. They tend to be clingy or overly dependent.

• Avoidant: As Taylor Swift aptly put it, "you gotta leave before you get left." These individuals are the opposite of anxious; they avoid getting too close to people and often have trouble trusting or relying on others. They tend to keep a distance in relationships.

• Disorganized: People with this style exhibit a mix of anxious and avoidant behaviors. They usually feel confused about their relationships, wanting closeness but also fearing it, which can lead to unpredictable or contradictory behaviors.

• Secure: These are the lucky ones. They had really good relationships with their parents, so they feel comfortable with closeness and trust others easily. They’re more likely to have healthy relationships and can depend on others or have others depend on them.

A diagram depicting various attachment styles and the spectrum of emotions we may experience in relationships. Click here to know more!

So, what about Tom and Summer?

Tom is an idealist—so much so that he idealizes Summer beyond reason. She’s just a regular person, but to Tom, she’s extraordinary. He could meet any beautiful girl who shares a few things in common with him, and I bet he’d be ready to fall in love (the final scene with Autumn is a perfect example of this). And I get it—I’m like him in that way. I think back to the famous elevator scene. When she expresses a single common interest, they interpret it in completely different ways: a mundane interaction for Summer becomes an explosive, fate-altering moment for Tom. From this alone, we can tell that Tom is an anxious attacher, while Summer leads toward avoidant. This is often a recipe for disaster, yet, unfortunately, a lot of relationships have this dynamic. My psychology-loving self was eating up the entire movie as I noticed all the little details that reinforced my analysis of their attachment styles. It was as satisfying as it was heartbreaking because I saw myself in Tom so much, I was practically looking at a mirror.

During Millie’s engagement party, Tom mentions that he studied to be an architect. When Summer asks what happened, he simply says it didn’t work out, so he’s now writing greeting cards. This got me thinking. He seems to have this pattern: when things don’t go according to plan (like getting Summer to fall in love with him), he settles for less (like staying in a no-label relationship when he wanted more). Why? Because, what else is there? A lot, Tom. Please, wake up.

"It didn’t work out. I needed a job, and here we are."

That sounds a lot like, "It didn’t work out. I needed to feel some sort of love, any love, and here we are."

Summer, on the other hand, is a cynic. She doesn’t believe in the grand, all-encompassing love that Tom idealizes. Love, to her, is fleeting. Even as she initiates the relationship with Tom, from holding hands in Ikea to having shower sex, she’s aware of their differing perspectives. Deep down, she probably knows it won’t last. She’s been through this before and knows how it will end.

“I’m not… really looking for anything… serious. Is that okay? … ’Cause some people kind of freak out when they hear that.”

This isn’t her first time navigating a relationship like this, and each one only reinforces her belief that love isn’t real. For Summer, commitment isn’t an option because, in her eyes, it doesn’t exist. If the parents she spent her early childhood adoring couldn’t even love each other, then love must not be real. It just can’t be.

She may as well just have fun.

The Anxious-Avoidant Dance

Why do avoidant attachers stay in relationships despite knowing that the person they’re with is desperate to keep them by their side? Isn’t that the last thing they want? Stephanie Sarkis explains this really well in Psychology Today. The thing with attachment styles is that they develop from how our emotional needs were met (or unmet) when we were children. If they were unmet, chances are, you’ll develop an insecure pattern, whether that be anxious, avoidant, or disorganized. Sarkis explains that the attraction between anxious and avoidant attachers may be because they unconsciously want their partner to fulfill their unmet emotional childhood needs. For instance, anxious attachers, accustomed to uncertainty in their caregiver’s love, see winning over their partner as a challenge—if they wait a little longer or do something different, maybe their partner will finally love them (ahem, Tom).

Meanwhile, avoidant attachers often grew up feeling neglected or unloved by their caregivers, leading them to rely on themselves. In relationships, they might unconsciously choose partners who are eager for love because it helps them keep their distance. This dynamic allows them to feel independent and in control, which is something they’re comfortable with (sound familiar, Summer?). Sarkis also suggests they may be attracted to each other because they probably want those traits in themselves. This may be why Summer stayed with Tom for as long as she did. At the end of the day, she is human, and humans desire to be loved in one way or another. This can be as beautiful as it is destructive.

What Tom and Summer Taught Me

Watching this movie, I found myself wondering if I had become Summer this past year—convincing myself that I could be happy with playful flirting, no labels, getting the high of the benefits of a relationship without the burden of commitment. But as I write this, I realize that, having been cheated on, taken advantage of for my patience, kindness, empathy, and body, I may have developed a disorganized attachment style (yes, it can change over time. That’s why working on it with a partner or therapist can help you become more secure). I am both Tom and Summer, at least for now. I think that’s why this movie resonated so deeply with me. It is so masterful in the way the story was woven, exploring the different moments like puzzle pieces so that we can put them together. Because it was told only through Tom’s perspective, it requires a little more thinking to take Summer’s side into consideration. And that’s exactly what I did—I thought a lot (and felt even more). 500 Days of Summer is as beautiful as it is painful. I’ve never seen myself so clearly in a movie before, and perhaps it was fate that I only watched it now.

And it is here where my psych brain and normal brain come back together as… just my brain: it is okay to be where I am now, even if I’m not where I want to be. It is okay to not have it all figured out because I’m not supposed to—yet. I have many lessons to learn and more mistakes to make. I will get hurt, and I will hurt others. But that’s the beauty of being human. If Tom can reconnect with his passion, so can I. If Summer can find someone to love, so will I. It’s all just a matter of time. Maybe in 500 days? Or not. That’s okay, too.