Rihanna's a lesbian! Or at least, that's what certain publications would have you believe, all based on the evidence that she was seen carrying a copy of photographer Ellen von Unwerth's book Omahyra & Boyd, which features erotic bondage and lesbian imagery. If every woman who's ever admired another woman's body or a photograph of a sexy woman were considered a lesbian, we'd be hard-pressed to find any straight women.

Obviously there are plenty of reasons Rihanna might have had the book with her, whether to get video ideas or because Von Unwerth photographed her Rated R album cover. But the broader question raised is whether engaging in sexual fantasies is anything to be ashamed of, and my answer is a hearty "no".

A recent Boise State University study of 484 heterosexual women that showed that "50% of the women had fantasies about other women that involved some kind of sexual experience". Does this mean they're bisexual? Lesbian? Bicurious? Who knows and, to a degree, who cares? We don't need to label every thought that comes into our minds, unless doing so helps us in some way. I'd imagine that there are plenty of heterosexual men who've entertained a homoerotic fantasy at some point, but are reluctant to admit that for fear that doing so would "make" them gay. The same goes for sadomasochism and dominance and submission. Plenty of people get off to BDSM scenarios they wouldn't necessarily want to try, yet too many are ashamed of these fantasies and don't even fully admit them for fear of being seen as somehow deviant, when the fact is that eroticising power, helplessness and pain are extremely common.

Attraction and action are two distinct things. Sometimes they are one and the same, and visualising yourself in a given sexual situation will lead to wanting to pursue it, but not always. We need to put a higher value on the act of fantasising and recognise that it can help revive a relationship or be a tool in figuring out what arouses us. Maybe you fantasise about being with someone other than your longterm partner, or watching them with someone, or having sex in an exotic location, or being watched, or something that couldn't ever happen in real life. Allowing yourself the freedom to simply explore what turns you on, sans judgment, is important.

Our fantasies aren't always literal, but they are a vital and vibrant aspect of one's sexuality. As Your Brain on Sex author Stanley Siegel writes:

"What many of us don't recognise (or if we do, are fearful to acknowledge) is that what we are actually engaging in physically with a partner may be less compelling than what goes on in our private thoughts and fantasies at the time. In fact, for most of us, it is more often the images, thoughts and fantasies in our imagination during sexual contact that brings us closer to climax."

That is certainly the case for me.

The problem with assuming that a given sexual fantasy (or appreciation of erotic books or films about a given subject) means anything more than being aroused by your own imagination or a form of entertainment is that it inhibits people from getting in touch with their real sexual feelings, even in their own minds. "Will this mean I'm gay? Perverted? Into group sex?" We become our own personal thought police in this way, which doesn't serve anyone's best interests. And it's not just self-policing; the idea that some kinds of fantasies are "wrong" is what leads to attempts to censor certain kinds of material, such as proposed Japanese legislation, which would have censored anime and manga art if characters looked under 18.

Whatever their inspiration, fantasies are deeply personal and aren't always as cut and dried as they may see. For instance, in the movie The Kids Are All Right, when Julianne Moore and Annette Bening, playing a lesbian couple, are revealed to have a stash of gay porn videos, commentators were confused. Why would lesbians watch men getting it on? Again, different strokes for different folks. There's no single way to read a sexual fantasy, just as there's no single way to interpret a dream or work of art.

The whole point of fantasies is that they exist in a space that is just for us – unless we choose to share them. Even then, they are still ours to play with as we see fit, and don't have a fixed meaning. Fantasy's role in our sexuality cannot be underestimated, but in order to truly appreciate our diverse erotic reveries, we have to get rid of the judgments attached to them.