there’s this scene from spongebob squarepants. in it, spongebob, spit-sweating pearls, stands between two mr. krabses. his task: to choose the real mr. krabs. the dramatic irony is that, clearly, one mr. krabs is a robot. but spongebob, for the life of him, can’t tell the difference.

fleabag’s priest’s central choice, to me, is between compulsory cisheterosexuality and some kind of queerness. 

it’s not a clean argument to make a case for, because the literal options 一 the clergy vs. an, on the face of it, cisheterosexual relationship (fleabag is a lesbian, but that’s for another essay) 一 don’t neatly fit into the choices i’m offering. choosing the priesthood is, historically speaking, the queerer move. but. fleabag says once, ‘i want to be told what to do;’ later, the priest tells her, ‘i don’t think you want to be told what to do, or you’d be wearing one of these,’ gesturing to his clerical collar.

it’s not a clean argument to make a case for, it continues to crinkle, because the priest isn’t even really spongebob; i am. i’m spongebob, and i, sweating pearls as the audience laughs at the obvious robot, don’t know which mr. krabs he is pointing to.

trying to

i don’t know which mr. krabs he is pointing to, but fleabag’s priest does make a choice, invoking the higher notion (autocorrected to nothing) of vocation. which, easy. convincing yourself you can be saved from yourself goes by so many names. the writing of this essay being one, binge-watching two seasons of a show i never thought i’d watch being another. 

i don’t know which mr. krabs he chose, the metaphor caves, it’s never just a real mr. krabs and a robot, is it. each mr. krabs has some flesh, doesn’t he, pushing into some metal.

‘it’ll pass,’ says the priest, and he’s right; i will die一 he’s so wrong; i insist. i guess it’s just my life, and it’s just my body, spit-sweating pearls. just as in just一 as in only. 

em/ilie kneifel is a sick slick, poet critic, reviews editor at The Puritan, creator of CATCH and PLAYD8s, columnist at eye candy, blueberries, heartworms, windier. find 'em at emiliekneifel.com, @emiliekneifel, in bed with their palms up.