Courage the Cowardly Dog

Yesterday evening i had the misfortune of finding in my bedroom two abnormally large spiders. As an arachnophobe/coward i responded to this by raising both my hands in the air and slowly backing out of the room. I have a tried and tested protocol for whenever this happens: extending the hoover extension as far as it'll go and standing across the room from the spider trying to suck it into a dusty tomb; softly whispering "entomb him" under my breath. As i lugged the hoover across the landing at 1'o'clock in the morning and neared the hoover extension to the eight legged beasts (trying to keep as much distance between it and myself as possible) my thoughts of 'this is so emasculating' and 'have i brushed my teeth yet?' were interrupted with the thought that maybe i should face my fears. maybe i should grab the spider and hold it squarely in my palm. But then ration set back in and i remembered that facing your fears is bullshit... There's little, to nothing, to gain from facing your fears. I am afraid of spiders; and if i were to hold a giant spider in the centre of my meaty palm i wouldn't feel this soothing catharsis and become at one with them. I'd feel raw and violently irrational fear. This is why i don't do it. Where's the logic behind facing your fears? I'm frightened of being tried and burnt at the stake as a Witch; this doesn't mean I'm going to wear a pointy hat and sit on the BBQ to conquer my anxiety. Maybe to qualm fears about terrorist attacks every member of the public should have to go through at least one... face your fears and all that. You can experience a real life plane jacking/crash so you're not afraid of the extremists anymore. At the end of it the Pilot can wade through the debris, tell you that "it wasn't all that bad now, was it?", give you a cheeky wink, pinch your bum, and take a photo'. Facing your fears is a terrible idea. I'm too content in being a coward.