Right from an early age, I was exposed to all kinds of things that many consider woo-woo.
When I couldn’t sleep, my mother put lavender on my pillow and guided me through visualization-based meditations. When I began battling depression (long before anyone realized that’s what was happening to me), my grandmother gave me rose quartz—which had been worked smooth by my grandfather’s skill and effort. When I had a cold, they ran baths infused with eucalyptus and rubbed peppermint into my chest.
When my anxiety started to show, my mother gave me a bagful of worry dolls. When I had headaches, she applied pressure to the heel of my thumb and rubbed rosemary into my temples. When I had menstrual pain, she massaged the point below my ankle along my Achilles tendon.
I was shown how to balance my qi through body movement and room decor. I learned to ward off ailments and afflictions with echinacea and tea tree. I was taught about the power of colours — wear red to invoke confidence, wear blue to improve focus, wear purple to enhance spiritual power. I learned the healing powers that live in different kinds of stones and crystals.
You’d never know it by looking at us. We’re a pretty standard white middle-class Canadian family. But looking back, I see clearly now — I was raised by a coven of closet witches (and at least one warlock).
So it’s no surprise to me that astrology found me early on and has always made sense.
So you believe in astrology?
I received a very nice book from my aunt for Christmas when I was 9 years old. It was my first astrology book and I was instantly obsessed. I still have that book. It’s one of my favourite resources still to this day.
I don’t know if I “believe” in it the way some people mean when they ask that question. Because I think it’s dangerous to live in the extremism of believing in anything wholeheartedly. I take the parts that resonate and leave the rest. It’s just one of the many tools in my grimoire.
But over my two decades of casually studying astrology, it is perpetually interesting to the see the ways my observations of the world, and the people I meet in it, reflect and challenge what I’ve learned.
Most notably, I have kept detailed statistics on my sexual partners since I broke up with the first one. One criterion I’ve tracked is their star signs. At first, I was simply documenting their birth dates as a means to track their age with respects to mine at the time we first fucked. But it didn’t take long for me to add the astrological sign field, and eventually focus more on that. Analyzing the trends in the signs of my lovers past and present has proven a very interesting exercise.
Because there are obvious trends. Here, I have highlighted them in each of the signs as I have experienced them personally over the past decade.
Aries is my favourite because I am one. I have a clear affinity for fire signs in general; my best, most passionate, most exciting (read: torrid) affairs have been with Aries, Sagittarius, and Leos.
But the highest percentage of my wheel of paramours is in Aries. My first partner, my most scorching/blistering affair, my most recent favourite play pals, my longest, most consistent, and many of my most treasured relationships — all Aries.
And of my Aries lovers, a not insignificant number of them have had the exact same birthday. (What a weird type to have, hey?)
Taurus are the softest bois I’ve ever known. They are beautiful, respectful, conscientious souls with big, nerdy hearts, but we are poorly matched, energetically. We both ended up needing things that the other could not easily provide—me demanding more intensity (why won’t you choke me, sir?) while they needed more softness (let’s just cuddle here literally forever).
Balance was nigh unattainable with the way our energy breaks down.
I’d never fucked a Gemini until 2015 and then went on a serious Gemini tear for the two years that followed. I’ve never been more frustrated with someone’s personality, yet never orgasmed so consistently as I have with Gemini.
Cancer is almost* without exception fantastic fantasy fuel only to be the most painful let-downs in real life. I am undeniably drawn to them, it’s true. But if they ever swim close enough for me to catch and drag to bed (because there is usually a dragging portion to the program), they don’t match up to the version I created during my bout of prolonged pining.
*because one of the top best lays of my LIFE so far was with Cancer. See? This isn’t a hard** science, guys.
**…well, hehe, I mean… It was hard, but you know what I mean.
Leo is the sign I’ve scored the least with but I work the hardest to impress when they come into my world. The way our flames mix is powerful, but dangerous so I realize that I need to tread carefully. But I do love the challenge they pose to me simply by being present. Leos have played very significant roles in my overall personal development.
Virgo and I are without exception much better off as friends than sexual partners. It starts out fine because they’re gregarious and fun when they’re in their element, which I find very admirable. But when I let those traits seduce me, they don’t translate in the bedroom.
There is no… friction. No tension. It’s a story that’s all exposition, no rising action. I have to fight with myself, force out an orgasm because they work so damn hard but I just can’t feel anything with them.
Libra is complicated because for some reason I manage to forget about them. Like, when was the last time you saw a Libra meme outside of Libra season? And yet… Libras are consistently some of the best sexual experiences I’ve had. Maybe it’s because they’re unassuming to me. Maybe it’s because they’re my astrological opposite. I don’t know. But they know how to unlock all the secrets I didn’t know I had.
Only time I ever cheated on a partner? With a Libra.
Some of the best oral sex of my life? Libra.
Hands-down, no contest the best anal sex I’ve ever known, every time? Libra, Libra, Libra.
Libras is the skeleton key to my sexual potential.
Scorpios… are complicated for me. They represent sex, addiction, crisis; death and rebirth; transformation. It’s only fitting then that the most complicated relationship of my young life, which also resulted in my first and most volatile sexual assault, was with a Scorpio.
I haven’t had much experience with them since. It hasn’t been intentional, but I don’t doubt that my intuition has helped keep them away for self-preservation.
I find it too easy to fall for Sagittarius. The elusive, enigmatic Sagittarius has made for my best muses. I mean, I wrote a whole fucking book thanks to Sagittarius.
And I know that I’ll do it again.
Capricorn is a fair-weather lover that I don’t think much of when they’re not there, but when we’re together? I forget everything else.
Looks don’t usually factor in too heavily for me when I’m talking about how or why I’m attracted to someone, but Capricorn is the exception. They are the hottest thing I’ve ever hooked up with. And of course they have the personality to complement it — professionally ambitious yet laidback at home, and fiercely loyal to family and friends. The result is always: so much fun.
Capricorn is also the only lover to have made me burst like a fountain from penetration alone. Because the ones with a penis? Hot damn—some of the nicest dicks I’ve ever put in my mouth, truly.
All of the most disappointing lovers I’ve allowed myself to endure have been Aquarius.
Upfront, they seem fun and a little mysterious. It’s just enough to beguile me to the point of wanting to seduce them. But then almost immediately after the game’s afoot, they turn hot and cold. And they’re almost definitely still very hung up on their ex.
All of this adds up to me becoming incredibly frustrated and oddly driven to conquer them in spite of the dumpster fire we’ve already become. And the moment I get into bed with them, Aquarius takes their air and snuffs out my flame like it’s the only thing they know how to do.
Disaster. Every time.
I know I’ve complained about fishing being boring in the past, but that does not apply to my time with Pisces. Pisces is so much fun, but for one time only.
They are some of the best stories I’ve never told because they’re almost too surreal. And due to word count restrictions, they shall remain untold. 😉
Prompt #389: Astrology