Allodoxophobia — fear of opinions

And if you think that’s bad, wait until you’ve seen the other fears we’ve scared up

There’s nothing to fear except fear itself, right? Wrong! There are fears of everything out there, just waiting for you to trip over and scare yourself silly with. We live in an age of where phobias are as common as fetishes, although half as satisfying, and it’s time we educated ourselves. Fortunately, the writers of Gateway Opinion have gathered a collection of the timeliest and trendiest fears known to humankind — and what better time than Halloween to acquaint yourself with the creepiest mind-freaks available? If you’re reading on, remember: we warned you.

Phalacrophobia

The fear of going bald hardly seems applicable to most university students; but really, who hasn’t gotten up in the morning and, upon seeing dislodged hairs on his or her pillow, been even just a little frightened about losing that beautiful coif? Paling in comparison to other more detrimental phobias, phalacrophobia seems more like a fear for wusses rather than a legitimate neurosis. However, with our modern culture’s emphasis on beauty and youth, it seems entirely sensible to be worried about going bald when the average TV commercial would have dandruff seeming like a life-altering catastrophe. It’s true — the world is a shallow place, and along with shallow places, shallow fears should logically follow.

For me, phalacrophobia is not just a fear of going bald — it’s also a fear of what I’ll have to do after I’m bald to maintain any semblance of fashion sense. I might have to start wearing hats, or wigs, or perhaps even trick myself into thinking that those hair-growth formulas work. Or even grow a beard just to prove to my psyche that I can, in fact, grow hair. And this is only how males would react.

Luckily, getting over phalacrophobia is simple. Just determine whether or not your mother’s father was bald. If he wasn’t, then you’re probably going to be fine and you can stop worrying. If he was, you should just come to terms with your inevitable baldness and may as well get all the enjoyment you can out of your hair while you can. Because, you know, hair today, gone tomorr... well, you see where I’m going with that.

Nyctophobia

The most pervasive phobia I can claim to experience is the fear of the dark. Not just any dark, but specifically going up the stairs in the dark. We all can recognize this feeling, when your back stiffens and you can imagine something standing directly behind you. I grew out of all the other darkness-related fears, but this one has managed to last well into my grown-up years. To my shame, I find myself hurrying up the steps, even as I curse my cowardice and immaturity. The fear of the unknown is a legitimate thing, and anyone with an ounce of imagination might find themselves conjuring images of ghastly figures and spooky children creeping up the stairs behind you, ready to reach out and pull you backwards, or content to just follow and haunt you to the point of distraction.

So creaking stairs, the uncertainty of darkness, and the mind’s ability to make your neck crawl — just like something was breathing on it leaves me pretty distressed just sitting here typing at the computer. But that’s nothing compared to the increased heart rate and breathing when you’re actually experiencing it. But there is a solution. Just this morning, I was climbing my windowless, lightless stairs, listening to music. The insulation from sound got the phobia going, and I thought to myself how disappointing it would be to be killed while listening to Calvin Harris. At which point I realized that I was safe. See, the devil may have invented rock and roll, but Jesus listens to techno. And Jesus ain’t afraid of nothing.

Ithyphallophobia

When it comes to fears and sexuality, female pregnancy and ovarian cycles are usually deemed pretty scary by both genders. Men have it easy in that sexuality is pretty simple. However, learning to control that sexuality puts men in some difficult situations.

Imagine that you are a guy. For half of you, this shouldn’t be especially difficult. You and your guy friends are hanging out, punching each other and doing normal manly activities. And one of your friends thinks it would be funny to go for the coup de grâce, and deal you a nut-tapper. Or at least he thought it would be funny until first contact is met with a simple dull thud and suddenly a powder keg of implication and teenage drama erupts. You got an erection for no reason and your friends are calling it out.

Now you are permanently aware of your “state” and begin fearing when the next erection may strike. You constantly are glancing at your crotch to see if there could be any evidence of arousal, even if you aren’t technically aroused — you assume everyone is looking there all the time anyway. You start avoiding jeans, wearing longer shirts, sitting with one leg propped higher than the other. Every guy goes through a period of this, and don’t try to convince me otherwise.

Ithyphallophobia, more commonly known as bonerphobia, plagues teenagers attending junior high everywhere. Eventually, guys learn to deal with the problems both physically through subtle tactics (“The Coat-Tail-Method”) and mentally with social conditioning (“The President-in-a-Thong Method.”) By adulthood, the fear has usually receded, though often choosing to resurface during performances, bus rides, and medical exams. The big problem, however, is that later in life, the fear returns but with the expectations reversed. Just looking at what the world will sell you to counter potential dysfunction shows that anti-ithyphallophobia has an even more distressing onset.

Logophobia

Hydrophobic? Then don’t swim. Acrophobic? Then don’t live in a treehouse. Teutophobic? Then don’t go to Germany. Most fears and paranoid activities have an easy solution of sorts. I can’t imagine how anyone, however, could get away from the fear of words, which makes it easily the most invasive and topical fear this holiday season.

It could be my status in the journalism field, but even still, you have to notice — words are everywhere. Turn around — there’s probably a word behind you right now. Okay, that’s because if you turned around, then there’s a newspaper behind you, and newspapers often contain words, but my point remains. Imagine trying to get away from words. It’s unfathomable! A life without words, without books or advertising or TV Guide or computer screens or that most beloved collection of random nonsensical words (Twilight) would be, literally, devoid of meaning.

And what if it translated to verbal words as well? Then a logophobe would have to communicate entirely through grunts and interpretive dance, and though that would be awesome, it would also be difficult and probably pretty tiring on the arms. Eventually, your inability to communicate with culture and order soy lattes would result in your untimely death, likely through not reading an important sign. (“Danger: Bears Ahead” or “Do Not Eat Motor Oil.”) Your corpse would be laid to rest, your tombstone inscription still enough to scare you to death.

So, for the love of all that is good and wordy, pity the poor logophobes among us. I couldn’t imagine suffering from anything worse. Unless there’s an oxygenophobia or something. That would really suck.

Meteorophobia

Although we’re relatively alone in this largely indifferent universe, only a thin gaseous atmosphere stands between our beautiful blue planet and a million fiery balls of death whipping through the galaxy. The dinosaurs were wiped out by an asteroid 65 million years ago. That’s a sizable interval — surely the Earth must be overdue for another collision on a cataclysmic scale.

The possibility of such a collision makes life feel very insignificant. How at any time, everything the human race has worked towards could be undone by rock smaller than an average walk across campus. I’ve lost nights of sleep calculating orbital paths of near-Earth objects. I just can’t get 26713 Iskoola to pass by nicely.

Sure, scientists are tracking thousands of asteroids as they travel across the cosmos, using their fancy science equipment to make sure they don’t try to catch us with our pants down, but there’s no way to prevent a few from slipping by undetected. I’m assuming meteors are like farts — it only natural that a few will squeak through.

And even, if by some stroke of luck, we’re given some time to prepare for a possible collision, what can we really do? If we haven’t been to the moon in nearly forty years, how can we stop a moon-sized object from crashing into us at 22,000 mph, especially at this point in Bruce Willis’ career? Nukes would do little but piss it off, and the Canadarm’s not exactly designed to catch fastballs. No, no, this fear is here to stay, and anyone who disagrees is welcome to assuage my fears by going and eliminating all the meteors in our wing of the galaxy. Until then, I’ll be under the table.