Irrational fears are one of the freakiest little absurd joys of my life. I'm not generally a skittish person, but when I am, my reaction is pure and visceral.
Moths, for instance, are my insect nemesisesseseses.
Yes. Moths. Specifically moths, not other insects. For instance, I love bees. I intentionally get WAY closer to these stinging insects that is generally advised. I will make incredible overtures to save spiders from drains, even if I think almost every spider is a brown recluse (regardless of the fact that I live in New England). But moths? The weirdly unattractive cousins of the butterfly? Yeah, get those bastards away from me.
The way they appear silently and then just hang around like the drunk guy at a party you thought left three hours ago. You think you're all alone, and then, there he is, slamming into walls and windows, going in circles, ruining your view of the TV and getting in your face. But moths don't just annoy me, I find them deeply unsettling in their ability to surprise, to lie in wait in a dark room, only to spring into action when a light on the other side of the house is lit.
Mostly, it's the sneaky fluttering combined with the occasional stomach-turning thorax thump.
I dislike moths so much I don't even care to be near butterflies anymore. A few years ago, Adam took me on a lovely trip to Boston, and we went to the Science museum. I tried to play it cool in the butterfly house, but every time one of those things got within a foot of me, I practically leapt out of my skin.
Now when one gets in the house, my heart skips and I shriek, "SILENCE OF THE LAMBS MOTH!" and leave the room, hoping one of the cats (or dogs! I'm not picky!) makes quick work of it. I rely on the pets for a very gross and selfish reason. That is, even if you do muster the fortitude of character to challenge a moth in person, you brave warrior you, they make a big mess. Better to pretend your cat needed the extra protein. The moth even comes pre-sugared for their snacking pleasure.
I don't even know when or where or how I developed my moth aversion. As a child, I remember many sunny summer afternoons standing perfectly still in the backyard just praying that a nearby butterfly would deign to alight on my should for a few moments.
So yes, I was discussing my life-altering fear of moths with strangers on the Internet. Because that's how I roll and mitigate the irrationality of my fear - by finding others who are equally entertained by their own foibles. Everyone has at least one irrational fear, even if they don't always know it or admit it. One of my closest friends, for instance, has terrible fear of gerbils. Not hamsters, just gerbils. Irrational fears are spectacular in their specificity.
Because the best part of anyone's irrational fear is exploiting the shit out of it. Just so long as it isn't yours.
And in a world where we're so easily and often reminded that there are terrible and legitimate boogeymen about, freaking out over a little moth might just be a way to cope.
Besides, there are always these guys looking out for us, and a man who's routinely confused with a flying bunny can't be all bad.
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