Magical Thinking / I Might Be A Prude

I admire Tom Hiddleston’s aplomb at handling celebrity. I can’t think of him without also thinking about the million other people who salivate at the thought of him. You see, I have this ridiculous superstition that makes me cringe a little on his behalf: the idea that fantasizing about someone is rude at best, and psychic molestation at worst.

Yes, it’s stupid. I know. Especially since I consider myself skeptical about any kind of psychic crap.

But when I was a kid I had strong religious influences implying that my thoughts didn’t really belong to me because GOD KNOWS THEM ALL. And sometimes religious authorities could compel me to reveal myself. The memory of my first confession still makes me shudder.

I was eight years old and there was no partition between me and the priest (whom I found attractive). Naturally, it got mortifying when I brought up my “impure thoughts.” I decided to back-peddle a bit and describe them as being of a violent nature rather than sex-type stuff.

Ever since, I’ve been uncomfortable fantasizing about guys – even celebrities I’ll never meet. I don’t feel this guilt when fantasizing about other women, though, which I think has to do with growing up in a world eager to sexualize women at every flimsy exploitative opportunity. But with guys, I always feel like some kind of slimy voyeur. Sometimes, though, you know how it is: You’re bored or nervous and your brain just goes to the gutter. I won’t lie. Sometimes I even whole-heartedly roll around in that gutter with little guilt.

Back to Mr. Hiddleston. In recent years there’s been a surge in the online (*cough*tumblr*cough*) pagan community of women who claim to be wives of Loki. This phenomenon has been examined by someone much wiser than I to reach a more learned and inclusive theory, but in my own petty cynicism I’m sure Tom Hiddleston is at least partly to blame.

And that’s the thing: Hiddleston’s only sins are being elvishly cute and extremely good at his job; thus he is punished by millions of adoring fans having nasty thoughts about him.

You’re looking at me like, And that’s bad because…?

You’re right, imaginary reader. Now that I’ve put it into words, I realize what a prude I am. Even Hiddleston doesn’t seem to mind when the ladies howl about his bare ass.

^ Actual response to audience howling over his bare ass. ^

So that brings me to the “psychic molestation” thing. This superstition I have has proven itself true often enough to justify its continued existence in my worldview: If you think about someone intensely, you interfere with them somehow. Maybe – if they know you personally – they start thinking of you in a similar way. Just out of the blue and for no reason, they’re compelled to reach out and contact you like you’ve been imagining.

If that were true (and I’m not saying it is even though I behave like it is) the next step is to assume that fantasizing about someone affects them in a more profound and possibly negative way. I have this sense that my psychic body has a dirty, toxic “skin” and to think about another person for any length is to contaminate them with my filthy astral slime. (It’s an obvious Jungian metaphor for my body image issues.) If I like someone enough to imagine them talking to me, I wouldn’t want to curse or hinder them with the bad luck that slime would impart, so I’d rather not risk imagining them naked.

Look, I know I’m not alone here with my dumb superstitions. Most – if not all – of us have these little ticks in our personal mythologies; it’s called magical thinking. There’s even a Wikipedia article on it so check it out and feel less isolated in your weirdness if laughing at my repressed sexuality isn’t enough.

Yeah so anyway, TL,DR: I light-boxed a quick picture of Tom Hiddleston because I wanted to explore the geography of his beautiful face without incurring too much Catholic guilt. Otherwise I won’t allow myself to think about him even though he’s irresistibly adorable.