Okay so last week I pulled out my dusty notebook cuz Mercury retrograde just wouldn’t quit messing with my chill. Felt like love needed some cosmic help. Decided to actually do that Virgo weekly love horoscope for singles thing. You know the one floating around for June 2025? Yeah, that.
First up, it said us Virgos gotta declutter our minds before love finds us. Sounded kinda simple? Nah. My head’s usually buzzing like a beehive. So Sunday afternoon, I grabbed:
- My beat-up journal
- A black pen (blue felt too casual)
- A coffee strong enough to kickstart a mule
Sitting at the kitchen table, I stared at the blank page for like, twenty minutes. Total crickets. Finally scribbled down all the messy worries crowding my brain – “Am I too picky?”, “Is that weird laugh scaring guys off?”, “Why does dating feel like a job interview?”. Felt weirdly heavy getting it out.
The Cringe-Worthy Part
The tip said “Express analytical thoughts playfully with potential crushes.” Right. How does a Virgo do playful? Seriously. My idea of flirting is probably asking someone how they organize their spice rack. Tried it Tuesday though. Saw Mike from book club. Usually I’d talk about plot holes. This time? Pointed at his colorful socks and said, “Those defy color theory. Impressive rebellion.” His confused “Uh…thanks?” and quick escape? Total fail. Felt like a weirdo.
Then came the worst advice: Rely on gut feeling over logic. Gut feeling? My gut usually just tells me when I need tacos. Tried it Thursday. Got a DM from someone kinda vague on the dating app. Brain said “Ask more questions, profile’s sketchy.” Gut? “Ooh nice jawline! Reply fast!”. Went with gut. Ended up with 15 minutes of “wyd” “nm u” texts. Yeah. Brilliant. Gut got muted real quick.
The Actually Useful Bit
Did find one nugget that kinda worked! The bit about paying attention to practical people who help out. Saturday morning, spilled coffee everywhere at the cafe. While I was frozen staring at the disaster, Ben (quiet guy from spin class) just appeared with a wad of napkins and mopped it up. No fuss, just did it. Actually struck up a real convo about his messy roommate. Felt easy. Not fireworks, but solid. That tip gets a maybe.
End result? Still single. Mercury retrograde vibes remain chaotic. But honestly? Getting the noise out on paper felt kinda freeing, even if the “playfulness” crashed and burned. The gut thing? Might stick to trusting it for tacos only. Proves you gotta filter that cosmic advice through your own messy reality. Maybe next week!
