I saw that stupid headline pop up, the one about the Virgo love life stuff, and I just clicked it. I was fed up. Absolutely fed up with watching my buddy—let’s call him M—cycle through the same dating nonsense for six months straight. Every weekend was a disaster story.
I decided I needed proof. Proof that either this horoscope garbage was totally fake, or, God forbid, proof that M was somehow fighting the cosmos and that’s why he was losing. It was less about M and more about me settling a personal score with all the vague, feel-good advice floating around.
The Setup: Locking Down the ‘Prophecy’
First thing I did was I opened three different horoscope sites. I needed a consensus. I couldn’t just follow some random guru. I pulled up the charts for ‘Virgo’ for that Tuesday. I read through them. They were all typical vague rubbish, but two of them used the phrase ‘a critical communication with an Earth sign is imminent’ and one mentioned ‘re-evaluating financial commitments in a partnership.’
I scoffed at the money part—M’s broke, what commitment? But the ‘critical communication’ thing stuck with me.
I texted M. I told him the plan. He thought I was losing it, but he was bored enough to play along. The rule was simple: for 48 hours, every single one of his communication choices had to be filtered through this ‘critical communication’ lens, specifically with a woman who had a matching Earth sign (Taurus or Capricorn). No casual texts, no quick calls. Every interaction had to be heavy, deep, and ‘critical.’
We started tracking the whole mess. I made a spreadsheet on my busted laptop—simple columns: Time, Person (Sign?), Topic, ‘Critical’ Rating (1-5), and Outcome.
- I scoured his recent matches.
- I isolated the Earth signs.
- I forced him to pick the one he least wanted to deal with for a serious talk. (It was a Capricorn he’d ghosted after two dates.)
I pushed M to call her. He resisted. I drove over to his place, commandeered his phone, and dialed. I threw him the phone and pointed at the clock. Time to be ‘critical.’
The Practice: What Actually Happened
He stammered through a completely unnecessary, 20-minute conversation. He addressed why he ghosted her—which was ‘I got scared and was busy.’ Not very critical. She listened, she laughed, and she said, “You’re weird, but I appreciate the honesty.” Not exactly the cosmic-level breakthrough the horoscope promised.
The next day, the second part of the prophecy hit: ‘re-evaluating financial commitments.’ I made M look at his bank account and his dating app costs. He canceled the premium subscription he wasn’t using. Small victory, I guess.
The 48 hours wrapped up. Did it fix M’s love life? Nope. Did it lead to a life-changing relationship commitment? No. But the Capricorn girl did text him later that week, just a random meme, which was the most engagement he’d had from a date in months.
I documented all of it. The whole stupid process. I logged the low-stakes outcome. It proved exactly what I thought: horoscopes are mostly junk that you can bend to fit whatever happens. But I also realized that the act of forcing a ‘critical communication’ actually made M face his own BS, even if the horoscope didn’t mean it that way. The cosmic advice was useless, but the assignment I gave him using the cosmic advice… that got a small result.
Why I Wasted 48 Hours On A Fake Prophecy
You might be reading this and thinking, ‘This guy has too much time on his hands.’ And you’d be right, mostly. But this whole obsession with finding out if these vague predictions hold any weight, this fixation on forcing a ridiculous outcome just to log it, it didn’t come from M. It came from a total meltdown I had, years ago, when I split up with my ex-wife.
I thought things were solid. We owned a house. We had plans. Then one morning, I woke up, and she was gone. No note, just an email that dumped me with three sentences and a forward on where to send the divorce papers. I spent six months trying to figure out what went wrong. I drove myself crazy replaying every argument, every silence. I went deep into self-help, therapy, and yeah, some really dark corners of the internet.
One of the stupidest things I stumbled upon was her old astrology forum login info, still saved on a shared browser. I logged in. I read her posts from the months leading up to the split. She was asking about ‘leaving a commitment’ and ‘when is the right time for a sudden change of direction’ based on her chart. She didn’t tell me, the person she was living with, but she asked strangers on a forum.
She followed that terrible advice. It wrecked my life. I lost the house. I lost my mind for a while. I started my own stupid blog just to document my slow recovery, just to prove to myself that I could control something and that life wasn’t ruled by vague, celestial nonsense.
So when M came to me with his cycle of dating disasters, and that stupid Virgo headline popped up, I had to bite. I had to prove, by logging and forcing the outcome, that the only thing that changes your love life is a forced, ‘critical communication’ that you actually decide to make, not whatever a bunch of old stars tell you to do. That’s why I went through that whole messy process. That’s why I know it was worth the 48 hours of stupidity.
