It cuts both ways. First husband was afraid of flying! I rather enjoyed it, as a passenger, first as a kid over Tampa Bay, paid for it by dishwashing! still remember the marvelous turquoise clear waters, seeing manatees from above looking like slugs cuddling up together near the shores....
Then later, after we had four children, our first holiday he was so nervous he insisted we fly in separate planes -not a bad idea in those days.
We did fly together once, in Mexico in a Dakota flown by a Native American, walking down a center aisle that sloped; then well banked turns on the approach to Casas Grandes, husband slumped in his seat with his eyes shut fast and muttering prayers..
But it wasn't until he dumped me for a younger model that I decided to do something reckless; had my ears pierced and went for a ride in a glider at High Wycombe. Recognised at once this is what I really wanted.
After ten years of flying, and realising that most pilots preferred a serious relationship to their gliders rather than the opposite sex, I put an ad in the Times, and found dear Henry, who had been in the British Army, and I taught him to fly! We had many happy years together.