Paraskevidekatriaphilia

paraskevidekatriaphobia n. the fear of Friday the 13th

I do not have paraskevidekatriaphobia. Nor triskaidekaphobia (fear of the number 13). Quite the opposite: 13 and I are dear friends. I look forward to Friday the 13th whenever it rolls around.

This probably originated with my innate contrariness. 13 is unlucky, society says? 13 is my lucky number, says I! Be afraid of Friday the 13th, society says? Friday the 13th is my favorite day, says I!

I have mostly outgrown the childishness of anticonformity (if nonconformity is finding your own path, anticonformity is running the track the wrong way, and about as useful), but I haven’t yet — and I hope never to — let go of my perhaps perverse adoration of all things 13, Fridays especially. What’s not to love about 13, after all? It’s a prime number, it’s one of the factors of 39, and isn’t that an interesting number itself? Plus, the poor neglected thing is so underused, and underappreciated, and all because of some silly misunderstanding. It’s oppressed, really, the victim of stereotyping. As a social justice worker, it’s practically my duty to champion it.

And of course, what’s not to love about Fridays?

I used to joke that it was Monday the 13ths that were a problem — ok, so I lifted it from Garfield, back when he was half amusing, but I had proof: see, 13 is a good thing, and Fridays are a good thing, and a positive times a positive is just a positive, right? But Mondays, ah, everyone knows Mondays are bad, and a positive (13) times a negative (Mondays) is a negative.

I was a bit of a dork.

(Was?)

And then, of course, it was a 13th (Saturday, but who’s counting?) that The Man and I first kissed, and every 13th since that we’ve celebrated being together. Counting that first fateful Rocky Horror night (told you I was a dork), we’ve had 144 13ths together — and yes, we are that obnoxious couple that celebrates, or at least pauses to acknowledge, every lunaversary.

To further support my love for this day, a dear friend just texted me, saying she’ll be in town this evening with her son, and would The Man and I like a date night while they play with the Boychick?

I told you this was my lucky day.

So perhaps you’ll forgive me for my paraskevidekatriaphilia. May your Friday the 13th be as blessed.