Did You Want to Fuck the Priest or Did You Want to Fuck God?

"Do you want to fuck the priest or do you want to fuck God?"

Leave it to Fleabag's therapist to ask the question that short-circuited my brain and then have me spend the next three hours staring at the ceiling, contemplating my entire existence.

When I first heard this line, I laughed. Then I was left dumbfounded at what the therapist meant by “do you want to fuck God?” I re-winded that scene a couple times because the comedic timing and just the tone of voice from the therapist in saying it in such a matter of fact had me baffled.  The thing about Phoebe Waller-Bridge is that she has this uncanny ability to package profound theological questions in the most uncomfortable yet comedic way.

So let me set the scene:  Fleabag, the protagonist, is sprawled in that uncomfortable therapy chair. She's finally admitted what I’ve been screaming at my screen— she wants to fuck the priest.

The therapist, bless her heart, doesn't bat an eye. Instead, she drops this theological bomb that essentially asks: Are you horny for the human or hungry for the holy?

What We're Really Talking About Here

Research on religious attraction suggests that our fascination with the forbidden often masks deeper spiritual yearnings. When we're drawn to religious figures, we're not just attracted to the person; we're attracted to what they represent: certainty, peace, purpose, connection to something larger than ourselves.

Anthropological studies show that across cultures, religious figures have historically been both revered and sexualized. The taboo nature of their unavailability creates what psychologists call "reactance theory"—the idea that when something is forbidden, we desire it more intensely. But this isn't just about rebellion; it's about proximity to the sacred.

Think about it. In a world where we swipe right on potential “soulmates,” there's something intoxicating about someone who has committed their entire existence to one thing. The priest in Fleabag hasn't just chosen God; he's chosen constancy in an inconstant world.

The Psychology of the Unattainable

The "Romeo and Juliet effect," documented in relationship psychology, shows that obstacles to romance actually intensify feelings rather than diminish them. Psychologist Robert Cialdini's research on scarcity demonstrates that we value more highly what we perceive as rare or difficult to obtain.

But with religious figures, this dynamic becomes more complex. The unavailability isn't just circumstantial -- it's cosmic. They're not just taken; they're taken by God. This creates what researchers call "triangulated desire"—where the third party (God) is infinitely more powerful than any human rival.

The Neuroscience of Sacred Attraction

Recent neuroimaging studies reveal something fascinating: the brain regions activated during religious experiences (the temporal lobe, anterior cingulate cortex) significantly overlap with those involved in romantic love and sexual arousal. Dr. Helen Fisher's research on love and attraction shows that dopamine pathways light up similarly whether we're experiencing spiritual transcendence or falling head-over-heels.

This neurological overlap might explain why throughout history, mystics from St. Teresa of Ávila to Rumi have described divine love in explicitly erotic terms. The language of spiritual ecstasy and sexual ecstasy isn't coincidental—they're processed by similar neural networks.

The Real Question

I think the therapist's question is really asking: Are you looking for transcendence through human connection, or are you looking for human connection as a gateway to transcendence?

The research suggests these aren't mutually exclusive desires. In fact, anthropologist Helen Fisher argues that romantic love evolved as a mechanism for pair bonding that enhances survival, but it hijacks the same reward systems that drive spiritual seeking and meaning-making.

The brilliance of Fleabag is that it doesn't give us easy answers. Both options—wanting the priest, wanting God—are valid, messy, and profoundly human. Sometimes our hearts don't know the difference between sacred and profane because scientifically speaking, there often isn't one.

When you're drawn to someone who represents something bigger than themselves, you're likely seeking what psychologists call "self-transcendence"—the fundamental human need to connect with something beyond individual existence. Whether that something is divine, human, or both might matter less than the seeking itself.