So this whole Virgo man thing started when I was dating Brian last spring. Total enigma, that guy. One minute he’s texting me novel-length messages about climate change documentaries, next day? Radio silence. Drove me nuts. I figured, screw it, I’m gonna document this properly. Pulled out my trusty notebook – the crusty one with coffee stains from last year’s failed sourdough experiments.
Phase 1: Stalking His Patterns (The Scientific Approach… Kinda)
I tracked EVERYTHING for three weeks straight. Like:
- Message Timing: Noted when texts hit my phone. Observed he ONLY sent long-winded stuff between 8:03 PM and 8:27 PM. Like clockwork. Probably after finishing his nightly spreadsheet or whatever. Missed his “window”? Radio silence until tomorrow.
- Problem-Solving Mode: Mentioned my wonky laptop charger. Didn’t say “aww babe sorry.” Nope. Next day? A fully researched email comparing brands, voltage specs, and links to three discount tech sites WITH price history graphs. Signed off with: “Item #2 seems cost-effective. Update me on functionality.” So romantic.
- The Vanishing Act: Ghosted hard mid-convo about weekend plans. Panicked, thought I blew it. Two days later? “Apologies. Car engine diagnostics required unexpected recalibration. Completed Saturday AM. Free from 2-4:30PM Sunday. Confirm?” Translation: He fixed his damn car, schedule cleared, back on task. Not dead, just mechanically occupied.
Phase 2: The “Do They Even Like Me?” Test
Needed harder proof. Time for experiments:
- The Minor Crisis Test: Called him stressed about forgetting my rent due date. His response? Calmly recited my landlord’s exact office hours, reminded me where I’d left my checkbook (behind the toaster??), then silently Venmo’d half “as precautionary buffer funds.” No “poor baby,” just… problem eradicated. Practical love language.
- Critic Mode Activated: Wore slightly ripped jeans. He noticed. Got a whole unsolicited lecture on denim durability, ethical manufacturing, AND recommendations for three local tailors with Yelp ratings above 4.7 stars. Felt nitpicked until I realized: He fixates on fixing YOUR stuff only if he cares. Indifference = silence.
- Slow Motion Sharing: After a month, finally cracked the shell. He OFFERED me a bite of his meticulously sliced apple slices at a park. Offered HIS food. That’s Virgo intimacy, folks. Bonus? He’d brought extra napkins just in case.
The Flood Moment (AKA: Oh. This is Love, Virgo Edition)
Got slammed with the flu. Canceled our movie night. Expected a polite “rest well” text.
Instead? At 9:06 PM sharp, my buzzer rings. It’s Brian, standing awkwardly with:
- A printed spreadsheet tracking fever med dosage intervals
- Three brands of electrolyte powder ranked by sugar content
- A brand-new humidifier (still in box), “demonstrably optimal for rooms under 300sq ft”
“Your coughing frequency indicated potential humidity deficit concerns,” he stated, avoiding eye contact. “Installation instructions are tabbed. Hydration schedule is advised.” Then he practically fled. No hug, no kiss. Just… pure, unromantic, meticulously planned care. That’s it. Textbook Virgo love.
Final Verdict: If a Virgo man uses his precious organizational powers ON YOUR LIFE, remembers your pet’s vet appointment when YOU forget, and criticizes your scuffed shoes instead of ignoring them… he’s absolutely gone on you. Just don’t expect roses. Expect Excel sheets. And maybe a perfectly folded napkin.
