Love Stories is a series about love in all its forms, with a new essay published each day through the week of Valentine’s Day. This year we are focusing on the astrological forces that may or may not be ruling your love life. Is your romantic destiny written in the stars?
The morning after the first time I had sex with Mike, I noticed a pair of heart-shaped glasses abandoned on a Brooklyn sidewalk on my walk home. They were glittery and pink, a novelty trinket from a birthday or bachelorette party. The arms of the glasses had snapped off, and the lenses popped out, but the heart-shaped frames were still intact. At the time, it felt like foreshadowing—but of love or future heartbreak, I wasn’t sure. I took a photo and posted it to Instagram without context. (It was 2014, and that’s what we did back then.)
Over a decade later now, if I scroll far back enough, I can still see that photo of sunglasses and remember that first night with Mike—the floral Urban Outfitters miniskirt I was wearing, the cigarettes-and-beer taste of his mouth, the summer humidity in the air, the way he slept curled up behind me. We were on and off and on and off for years. He was the first person I really fell hard for and the first person who left me truly heartbroken, crying on the subway at all hours and combing social media late at night searching for hints of what he was doing in his life without me. Mike was a Sagittarius: adventurous, open-minded, playful, spontaneous, and reluctant to commit to anything. Turns out I’m not so good with Sagittariuses, but I always fall for them.
Somehow, I always end up dating exactly the wrong sign. My dating history is filled with Sagittariuses and Aquariuses, which are both supposed to clash with my Scorpio self. (And although things might feel blissful at first, eventually the fall always comes.) Astrologers have explained why I’m drawn to them: My Moon, Venus, and Mercury are in Sagittarius, so it tracks that would I feel a connection with the star sign, even if their noncommittal nature is at odds with my intense Scorpio Sun and stability-craving Virgo Rising. As for the aloof Aquarius: When paired with a Scorpio, the two form a harsh, tense square—the astrological term for a 90-degree angle, associated with conflict and challenge—which equates to both interpersonal tension and sexual tension.
For many years, my dating life followed a similar astrological pattern. After Mike, there was Chris, the sweet Aquarius photographer who introduced me to his friends on our second date and eventually stopped making time for me one-on-one. Stephen, a Brit a decade my senior, was next; he read all the same books as me but his hot-and-cold dating style outpaced our intellectual connection. One week he wanted to see me four days in a row, then not at all the next. He was an Aquarius too. My first date with David, a friend of a friend and another Sagittarius, lasted for hours, going from dive bar to dive bar and then to his friend’s picnic to my friend’s birthday party. We didn’t want the day together to end. But as the months went by, I realized I still wasn’t quite over that last Aquarius, and for once it was me who couldn’t commit. When, in my late 20s, I changed my dating-app settings from “men” to “everyone,” there was Amanda, a Sagittarius who took me to her favorite spot by the waterfront and then ghosted me after we hooked up.
There’s a scene in Before Sunset that I think about at least once a month: Jesse (Ethan Hawke) and Céline (Julie Delpy) are walking and talking through a verdant green park in Paris, and the subject turns to astrology. “You’re a Scorpio,” says Céline. “I’m a Sag. We get along.” For all the Sagittariuses I’ve fallen for, I’ve never had it lead to anything near the romantic promise of Before Sunset’s last five minutes (“Baby, you’re gonna miss that plane”). Apparently some astrologer told Céline the wrong info.
Or maybe not. For those unfamiliar with the Richard Linklater trilogy, the characters end up playing out their star signs perfectly: Scorpio (Jesse) is loyal to a fault, intensely romantic, dramatic, and even obsessive. Sags (Céline), on the other hand, are more free-spirited and hard to nail down. Jesse kept his end of the bargain they made at the end of the first film, Before Sunrise, flying to Vienna to visit Céline while she stood him up. Jesse is the one who wrote a whole novel about the memory of spending one perfect day with Céline. And Jesse is the one who married someone else in the nine years between movies and then decided to end that relationship to be with Céline again—while she flitted from short-lived romance to short-lived romance, Sagittarius-style.
Maybe it’s Scorpio nature to always want more, more, more. And for some signs, that can feel stifling or scary and make them want to run away. Meanwhile, I reach out with grasping hands, counting the minutes until they text me back and the days between our dates. Occasionally I’ve tried dating signs that are, on paper, “right” for me: sensible Tauruses, romantic Cancers, no-nonsense Capricorns. And while I have close friendships with people who are these signs, I’ve never felt a strong romantic connection.
Last summer that changed when I met a Pisces. I’d never dated a Pisces before, and as a fellow water sign, Pisces are supposed to be a strong match for Scorpio. We’d matched on two different dating apps and decided to meet up in person for a drink one hot August evening. (I should note that he was attractive and interesting enough that I would have wanted to meet him, regardless of his zodiac sign.) When we chatted, I observed that he had some classic Pisces traits—emotionally intelligent, expressive, loved music—and I felt a spark. That’s an understatement: It was a full fireworks show, brighter than I’d felt in years. For a while, things were good. Really good. After a few months, I even asked an astrologer about him. She didn’t give me a clear answer on whether things would work out, but one way or another, she said, I’d know by springtime.
Unfortunately, after a holiday season when we barely saw each other, things fizzled out shortly after the new year. And now I’m back to where I was when I started: single, swiping on apps, mentally taking note of people’s zodiacs but theoretically open to dating any sign. While my birth chart might help me understand why I’m drawn to some people and left cold by others, it can’t ensure that a promising first date will lead to a lasting relationship or that two people will want the same thing at the same time. Because if my experience with the Pisces taught me anything, it’s that I can experience all the heartbreak that comes with dating the “wrong” sign even when I’m dating the “right” one. Sometimes in life (as well as beloved romantic trilogies), finding your person may indeed come down to the right time rather than the right sign.
All names have been changed.