The Limit of Imagination

There is a man I know who surprised me today by telling me one of his more bizarre fantasies. And before you ask, I'm not going to name him. Two reasons: firstly, I like the guy and don't want to smash his reputation infront on you vultures. Secondly, this way I keep the power.

This man is not me.

He found himself having a rather sexual dream involving a young, female character from the Harry Potter series. I could go Freudian on your ass (you want your mother), but I think this really raises the question of the difference between intent and fantasy.

There is clearly a difference. To fantasize over someone who is well under the legal age for legal consensual sex might be creepy and wrong, but it does not necessarily equate with an intent to sleep with someone so young. I don't buy into the "Hollywood makes them look so old" argument, either. 14 is still 14. But fantasy ain't intent. So I won't call Deborah Coddington just yet.

There are healthier ways to spend your evenings. Such as legal and consensual (not meaning to imply that you could have legal and unconsensusal) sex with your significant other, non-significant other, or self. If you want to torture yourself, work on your thesis, work for Meridian, study law, support the Highlanders or fall for someone who is either Canadian or too busy with the future to bother with you. Damn flat. Feeling bad about unintentional fantasy might amuse me mightily, but it probably isn't the best thing for your mental health.

And ease up on that crack.

In other news, the Aqua Marine Plastic Cups play their first game tonight. Woo, yeah! I still insist on calling us the Water Water Plastic Cups, despite Tim's pedantisism.