People would cross the street when they saw me coming with my Dearly Departed Gypsy. She was my doofus of a rottweiler who left me for that fire hydrant in the sky 6 years ago.
i still miss my baby every day ...
She was the sweetest soul who needed to be loved by everybody to feel whole.
So, when people would be afraid of her I couldn't understand it. I would think to myself, "If they only knew the soul inside of the brute physique, they'd see that all dogs are not fear worthy."
Hell, my drummer was terrified of dogs from a childhood trauma, but he loved Gypsy.
Anyway, I spent years thinking that people were ridiculous for being afraid of these wonderful companions. Granted there are a few who have been brought up to be vicious by their owners, but they're not all corrupt.
One day, my friend sent me a picture of a massive spider that was making it's way to Canada.
It was a hoax, but having a phobia of spiders, I couldn't get into the shower for a week because I was afraid they'd come down from the ceiling. I haven't eaten grapes since that day either, because I found one in my grapes.
pho·bi·a[foh-bee-uh]nouna persistent, irrational fear of a specific object, activity, or situation that leads to a compelling desire to avoid it.
Stress the word irrational.
So, from that point forward, I understood how people can be afraid of dogs. I had a little bit more appreciation of their irrational fears.
Well, Papi doesn't understand my fear of men, and more specifically, male body parts.
Ok, that wasn't so specific.
So, the other day, my love thought it would be funny to stand in front of me, lift the lower edge of his boxers a tiny bit, and expose the tip of the Plastic Penis.
I almost crawled out of my skin and was pretty grateful that I'd just had a dose of pain killers to numb my senses.
It affected me greatly. I haven't stopped thinking about it for days.
sorry i didn't tell you papi ...
Yesterday, my love informed me that I got my thoughts wrong in the blog. You can't pee out of the Lifelike Penis. Mi esposo then announced that he would indeed be buying the LifeLike Penis.
I couldn't really talk about it. I would just continue to fondly slice Papi's veggies for a turkey sandwich made with love.
"Why do you always stop talking?" my love asked.
I answered honestly, "I don't know," because I've been like that since I was a kid.
if you ignore it it will go away ...
I was silent and scared.
Papi pressed on with the topic, and asked, "I don't understand why you can't see that it's me and not be afraid. You know that I would never hurt you. Has every single male you've encountered been horrible?"
Well, not every one. But the ones that really fucked me up did a damn good job.
So, I recognized the phobia last night.
It is indeed a phobia.
Well, as they say, admitting it is the first step.
a persistent, irrational fear of a specific object, activity, or situation that leads to a compelling desire to avoid it.
It's a wobbly step, but it's done.
Now give me my fucking counseling appointment so I can wash that bitch outta my Honky 'Fro.