So I bumped into this weekly Virgo love prediction thing while doomscrolling last Monday. Thought, “Heh, what the hell, let’s road-test Terry Nazon’s advice for Virgos this week.” Skeptical? Yeah, kinda. But hey, gotta try something new for the blog, right?
The Setup & Initial Doubts
First thing Tuesday morning, I pulled up Terry’s points specifically for Virgo romance week. Three main bits caught my eye:
- “Speak your hidden desires this week—vulnerability is magnetic.” (Oh boy.)
- “Ditch the beige! Wear something unexpectedly bold near the weekend.” (My closet screams ‘safety first’.)
- “An old flame might flicker; decide if it’s warmth or just smoke before Thursday.” (Seriously? This one felt like a soap opera.)
I grabbed my worn-out journal (coffee stains included) and scribbled these down. Felt kinda silly, honestly. Talking about desires? My idea of bold is black jeans instead of grey. And old flames? Mine are more like damp ashes.
Actually Trying It Out
Wednesday morning sucked. Felt awkward as hell, but during coffee with Sam, I blurted out, “You know, I actually hate fancy brunch places? Feels pretentious. I just wanna chill with greasy diner pancakes sometimes.” Total silence. Then Sam cracked up: “Dude, FINALLY you say it! I’ve been faking enthusiasm for avocado toast for MONTHS!” Okay, point one to Terry. We went for pancakes. Felt stupidly freeing.
Friday night—bold outfit time. Stared at my closet for ages. Found a dusty red shirt buried deep. Put it on. Took it off. Put it BACK on like ripping off a bandaid. Met friends for drinks. First reaction? “Whoa! Red! You okay?” Felt like a walking traffic light. But weirdly… Sarah’s cousin (quiet engineer type) actually said, “Red’s a good vibe on you.” We talked circuits for an hour. Shirt stayed on.
The old flame thing? Thursday 10 AM, boom—text from Maya. We dated briefly two years back. “Hey stranger, saw your dog pics, still got that goofy mutt? ☕ sometime?” My guts twisted. Terry’s “warmth or smoke?” echoed. Messaged back: “He’s good! Thanks, but swamped this month. Hope you’re well!” Closed chat. Felt like dodging bad takeout. Relief over regret.
What Actually Stuck
Look, did I find ‘the one’? Nah. But here’s the messy takeaway:
- Vulnerability isn’t poetry. It’s admitting you want cheap pancakes. And that’s way less scary than I thought.
- “Bold” is relative. For me, a red shirt felt like skydiving. But it got the quiet engineer talking. Low stakes, weird payoff.
- Old sparks? Trust the gut. Mine screamed “leftover pizza vibes”—looks tempting but you’ll regret it later.
Will I follow next week’s stars? Maybe. But telling Sam about my secret pancake lust? Worth every cringe. Sometimes the universe just needs you to wear the damn red shirt.
