Fleabag, played and written by Phoebe Waller-Bridge, is the audacious, endearing, yet deeply flawed protagonist of the critically acclaimed dark comedy named after her. The story of Fleabag (2016-2019) follows this young woman as she deals with grief, family dysfunction, and corrosive self-doubt through a relatable combination of dry, razor-sharp humor and resilient self-sabotaging tendencies. Her coping mechanisms, namely flirtation, chaotic sexual encounters, and emotionally fraught relationships, serve as distractions from confronting her unresolved trauma, particularly the death of her best friend, Boo for which she feels entirely responsible and ashamed.
In the first season, her sexuality is presented with irreverence. She flirts effortlessly with both men and one beautiful woman at a store, though the series initially avoids labeling her attraction. Her encounters range from the hilariously transactional (her recurring booty-calls with the aptly nicknamed “Arsehole Guy”) to experiences that are awkwardly intimate (like her near hookup with a woman at a bar after a disastrous family dinner). These interactions underscore her use of sex as both armor and avoidance, yet they also establish her bisexuality as a natural facet of her character
It isn’t until Season 2 that the show offers a clearer, though still understated, acknowledgment of her being a bi woman. In a crucial scene, Fleabag shares a drink with a mature businesswoman named Belinda (played by the incomparable Kristin Scott Thomas), who recognizes her emotional turmoil at a glance. When she asks if Fleabag is a lesbian, her reply, “Not strictly”, is a masterclass in queer subtext: wry and deliberately ambiguous. This exchange, like much of the series, treats her bi attributes as a given rather than a revelation, a refreshing departure from narratives that demand justification or conflict.
What makes Fleabag’s portrayal so groundbreaking is its refusal to center her sexuality as a defining struggle. Instead, being bi for her exists alongside — and often in tension with — her larger emotional battles: her guilt over Boo’s death, her fraught relationship with her sister, and her fear of genuine emotional intimacy. Even her much-discussed entanglement with the Priest (Andrew Scott) doesn’t negate her queerness; rather, it highlights her capacity for connection beyond physicality. The show’s genius lies in its ability to let Fleabag be messily human: a woman whose desires, like her flaws, are never tidy or easily categorized.