Nothing gets a man’s eyes rolling quite like a woman talking about astrology. It’s a universal truth of masculinity, one we’ve accepted for so long it’s never even questioned. Like thinking about the Roman Empire and failing to multi-task. Just take a look at the latest episode of The White Lotus, Mike White’s critically acclaimed drama about a group of avaricious tourists staying in a destination that changes each season—this time, it’s Thailand.
Among the roster of holidaymakers is Rick, a greasy misanthrope played by Walton Goggins, and his significantly younger girlfriend, Chelsea (Aimee Lou Wood), a fun, flirty babe whose perpetual good mood is at complete odds with her partner. Over breakfast, Rick scuttles off to charm the hotel owner, and when Chelsea asks him to explain why, he refuses. “Scorpio,” she nods. “So secretive. It’s not easy for me, Rick. I’m an Aries. I need everything out in the open.” Rick sighs, replying simply: “God, I need weed.”
It’s a subtle moment that will resonate with heterosexual women everywhere, especially those of us who have the Co-Star app on our phones. You see, straight men just don’t get the star sign thing. It’s something the comedian Hannah Berner often makes jokes about, tweeting in 2018 that the surefire way to get a man to stop hitting on you is to “tell him about your horoscope” and “tell him about your cat.” Speaking to Alex Cooper on an episode of Call Her Daddy last year about ways to scare a man away, Berner reiterated her thesis: “Guys hate cats and astrology so just look at him and be like, ‘My cat’s name is Clyde and his rising moon’s Aquarius.’ He’ll be like, ‘OK, nevermind, thank you!’ Weaponize astrology to get him away from you.”
This is a foolproof strategy. At least it is in my experiences with men. (Perhaps it doesn’t help that I also have a tendency to talk to them about my cat; she’s a Scorpio.) But back to Chelsea. She’s the character in the series I’ve come to love the most, and it was this moment that made me fall a little harder for her. Like me, she draws meaning from astrological compatibility in dating. And like me, she uses it as the basis for judgements about her romantic prospects with someone.
To the men I might want to date some day: stop reading now. I’m a Gemini sun, Scorpio moon, Virgo rising. In layman’s terms, this means I’m generally outgoing, sociable and organised but with a propensity to ruminate. It also means that, like everyone else with a birthday, I’m more compatible with some star signs than others. Leos are great, alongside Aquarians and Libras, mostly because they can match and complement my energy. Virgos can work, too, as can Sagittarians.
Feline friends aside, Scorpios are an absolute no, which I learnt the hard way after dating one for four years. It was only after we broke up that I realised how incompatible we were, astrologically and otherwise. Imagine all the time and anguish I could’ve saved myself had I recognised that sooner. Facetiousness aside, I do believe everything I’ve read about astrological compatibility has rung true in my love life. The Capricorn I dated last year really was a little too quiet for me, and the Cancer I met on Hinge described me as “completely bonkers” on our second date. There was not a third date.
My friends abide by this, too; the second one of us starts dating someone new, we always ask about their star sign. One was so badly burned by a Sagittarius that when I told her I’d started dating one a few years ago, she rattled through the list of things I’d find difficult about him. “He’ll always be looking for the next thing and won’t ever want to sit still because it will make him feel trapped and he always needs to feel free,” she told me. “He’ll barely commit to a date let alone a relationship. Run a mile.” I scoffed at first, but a few weeks later, she was proven right – we also believe she might be psychic, but that’s another article entirely.
I don’t believe in being so prescriptive that I would never go out with someone purely because of their star sign. And I’m aware that a lot of stereotypes around certain astrological signs are ludicrous—see the @notallgeminis Instagram account—but I do think it’s an important thing to ask early on when, let’s face it, all of us are putting our best foot forward in a bid to impress the other person. Knowing their star sign might give you a better idea of who someone really is and how aligned they might be with you. It can also alert you to any potential hurdles, subsequently making you better equipped to handle them when they come up. Cancers, for example, have a tendency to be hyper sensitive. Being aware of this from the outset could help elicit a little more empathy when it becomes apparent.
What bothers me is that saying any of this to a man will almost always result in some sort of sneer, usually followed by a smug diatribe on how moronic it is to believe in something as flimsy as astrology. It has happened almost every time I’ve ever tried to broach the subject with someone I’m dating, and while it can be funny, it’s also hard not to feel like there’s a bit of sexism at play here. Silly little women with their silly little star signs, and so on.
That’s certainly the dynamic at play between Chelsea and Rick, anyway, who seems to actually hate her most of the time—at one point, he calls her an “idiot.” And after Chelsea insists the pair are soulmates, Rick glibly replies: “How can we be soulmates? Our signs aren’t even compatible.” I laughed, but I also wanted to hug Chelsea and tell her that it’s perfectly fine to believe in astrology, even if the man you’re dating thinks it’s nonsense.
Clearly, these two aren’t right for each other. What’s a little less clear is why Rick isn’t taking astrology a little more seriously. After all, he seems miserable. And their signs aren’t even compatible.