This Feeling

Sunday, July 26, 2020

What would happen if the Hot Priest and Fleabag had matched in the middle of this pandemic on Tinder?

Well, Fleabag, for one wouldn't trust him a little or a lot. Not until he uttered some life changing, revolutionary way to get to know one another. 

Again, not to date. The Hot Priest isn't on Tinder to date. He's on Tinder to make connections besides the one with God. 


Fleabag, about a month into it, would realize it's not all that bad, this Hot Priest. He keeps to himself largely and is hot enough to be had a conversation with, especially since she hates small talk and there's nothing else to do besides that. 

They'd spend a few all-nighters bantering. It's here they begin to understand one another. Her, more than him. 

They talk about everything. The details of how they like their gelato and other unhealthy vices to the people who've waltzed in and out over these years. They bare their insecurities and still pretend as though they know nothing about one another. Strangers, just so it's easy to walk out. Neither of them is particularly keen to stay but yet they hang on. Night after night, with each other. 

The leitmotif isn't a fox. It's memes that follow them around. 

Hot Priest impressed with Fleabag. A little. 

Fleabag impressed with the Hot Priest. 

"He's hot, fuck." 

"His collarbone."

Don't get this wrong, Fleabag being Fleabag would be open to flirting with one and all, as she does.
Anyone who could hold her attention for longer than an average Tool number and lockdown would ensure an abundance of such men. What a surprise, though.

She has her rendezvous with others; some more intense than Ray and then some less. She has her moments, in which she knows she's got them all but does she care? Not truly. At that moment, she sees herself closely and knows this isn't what she wants. She wants just that one and it's okay if it won't materialize. It's fine. 

"This city has all this to offer? Where were all these men earlier?"

She's still reeling from all the bullshit that has gone down in the past season, the dead burden of her family members, and her inability to do anything without feeling like an utter piece of shit. 

Then, there's the Hot Priest. The silent spectator and his lingering presence without imposing makes him irresistible to her and all the viewers. You can almost hear others gasp, 

"Where are guys like this even!? In celibacy?"

Well, I'd tell you more but I can't. Not unless someone pays me lots of money to tell you where the Hot Priests in the city are. 

How does it end? Does she go out with the Pandemic? 

We don't know. We won't know. 

What we do know is that the Hot Priest withdraws. 

He won't tell us why and it's only fair that as the second lead in this show about her, he gets autonomy to walk out when he wants to; with or without explanation. 

He fizzles or well tries to. She latches on. She has her sloppy moments in the middle of being utterly devastated. We can only hope he feels just as double-minded about this as the Hot Priest did but god, this wasn't easy and neither was this pretty. 

It ends with Fleabag all alone. Waiting to pick up her pieces. Joyous that she met the Hot Priest in this lifetime and yet sad, cause yet again, she's left to fend for herself. It's not all that bad, it never is. 

She deserves better than someone who drops her when things get heavy. 

Don't we all?

(Title reference; track of the day)

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