Galaphobia (Definitely Not Galeophobia)

Shit! Wrong Phobia 

Phobias are common. In the US alone, 13% of the population can be identified as exhibiting an irrational fear of specific objects or situations. The most common phobias include fear of heights (Acrophobia), fear of spiders (Arachnophobia), fear of enclosed spaces (Claustrophobia), and thus the list goes on. But today's post will not concern the mundane.  

In a past post, I dealt with the irrational fear of clowns, also known as Coulrophobia. My personal fear is being enclosed within small spaces. This is fairly commonplace, and I will comment no further. Today, I'm going to focus on a less commonly known phobia of which I have personal experience.

I'll start off with a strange phobia that impacted my own life many years ago. Way back when I was but a callow/shallow youth about 19 years of age, I had a girlfriend who will remain nameless. She was a willowy brunette with flashing green eyes. Now I wouldn't describe her as beautiful. To be honest, in a certain light, she was decidedly homely, and yet she exuded a charm and charisma that I found irresistible (mayhap she was Cleopatra in a past incarnation). She was endowed with a wonderfully quirky personality and exhibited a single bizarre oddity. My girlfriend had an aversion to milk. Interestingly enough, this particular phobia has a name but is extremely rare and goes by the name of, Galaphobia. Her phobia only extended to the liquid manifestation of the product. By the gods, why couldn't I fall in love with a girl with an irrational aversion to spiders!  Derivatives such as cheese and butter held no fears for her. However, the sight of milk, for instance, in a bowl would induce sheer terror, and she would run out of the kitchen shaking in fear. Of course, many folk thought the behaviour an affectation to be ascribed and due (unnecessary tautology) to the 'folly of youth'. But those who knew her intimately knew this not to be the case. The fear and terror were no doubt genuine and very real to her. As her boyfriend, I was interested in helping her cope with this condition and uncover the root cause. However, she could not attribute the fear to any particular incident in her early life. No medical help was sought as she was deeply ashamed of her affliction. As you can imagine, the condition was a difficult one to manage due to the universality of this opaque, nutrient-rich and life-giving elixir (steady Flax, you are starting to wax lyrical). For a time, we shared a single-roomed flat. A dingy affair (the flat was fine), but we made it our humble abode. Of course, milk was not an intrinsic element of our minuscule fridge, and during our time together, I drank my coffee black. Nonetheless, she had a particular fondness for cheese in all its guises and varieties. 

Although young, we often discussed what the future held for us and whether our love would blossom into long-term commitment. To be frank, we were too young to be considering impending nuptials. During our conversations, it appeared my lover was contemplating the burden of having children in the distant future. At the time, she was 18. This struck me as problematic as, during the process, she would have to cope with the anatomical reality of mammary glands overflowing with natural milky goodness. Considering her extreme reaction to the substance, it seemed to me that having children might not be a great plan. Anyway, our love proved tenuous, and she left me for another. I often wonder what happened to her and whether she managed to overcome her fear and achieve the wondrous and exalted state of motherhood.

Of interest, do any of my diminishing readership have a rare and interesting phobia that they would like to share with the rest of the folk who still frequent this blog?