Man, I never thought I’d be the guy spending a solid month charting zodiac signs, especially not for ranking compatibility in the gay community. But here we are. This all kicked off because of Dave and Mike. Dave’s a Virgo, Mike’s a Scorpio. They’re the classic on-again, off-again, burn-it-all-down couple. Total drama. Every holiday, every birthday, guaranteed nuclear fallout. I’m the poor bastard who always had to mediate.
I needed to figure out why they were like this, or better yet, if the stars actually had it out for them. I kept hearing this vague stuff about Earth signs and Water signs, but the general dating advice was clearly written for straight couples or was just too damn flowery. It didn’t account for the unique pressure points or relationship dynamics I saw in my own circle.
The Grind: Starting the Practice
So, I started small. I grabbed an old Google Sheet—the kind I usually use for organizing football pools—and turned it into a compatibility tracker. I didn’t mess around with books or theory at first. I went straight to the source: people I actually knew. I started with a core group of about ten established long-term gay male couples, documenting their sun signs.
Then I expanded the sample size. I hit up every friend I knew who was dating, had just broken up, or was hitched. I ended up logging around twenty-five couples. I wasn’t just logging signs, though. That’s too basic. I added columns to track their specific conflicts. Like, did they fight about money (Taurus stuff)? Jealousy (Scorpio)? Or just never talking about feelings (Air signs)?
My methodology was crude, but effective. For the Virgo-Scorpio pairing, I created a specific metric: the “Nuclear Drama Rating” (NDR). It was simple: how many times in the last six months did they break up, almost break up, or drag me into their mess? Mike and Dave were a solid 9/10 on the NDR scale, setting the baseline. I needed to see where others landed.
The Discovery: Ranking the Rollercoaster
I started ranking. I assigned sustainability scores based on relationship longevity versus documented drama. I quickly realized that the popular “perfect matches” weren’t always holding up in real life, especially in the gay context where traditional roles aren’t a thing to fall back on.
What did I find out about Scorpio and Virgo? They aren’t the worst. That title, surprisingly, went to a couple of Gemini-Sagittarius pairs, who just couldn’t commit to a city, let alone each other. But Scorpio-Virgo? They ranked dead center in sustainability, but sky-high in intensity. They weren’t compatible in a chill way; they were compatible in a ‘we are obsessed with each other and will destroy everything’ way.
The Virgo (Dave) was constantly criticizing the messy emotional life of the Scorpio (Mike), who in turn, was demanding a depth of emotion and connection the practical Virgo just couldn’t provide without feeling totally drained. It was control versus criticism, 24/7. My data confirmed the trauma wasn’t random; it was astrological clockwork.
The Real Reason I Went This Deep
Now, why did I pour my entire life into this silly spreadsheet instead of, you know, just telling Dave and Mike to get therapy? This is where the practice part got personal, just like everything I share here.
A few months before I started all this, I went through a hellacious split with my own partner. I thought he was the one. Turned out, he was not just cheating, but had pretty much planned my financial downfall with some shady investments I had co-signed. I won’t name the signs, but trust me, they ranked terrible on the sustainability score I later developed. My entire world collapsed. I was fighting legal battles, trying to salvage my credit, and honestly, wondering if I was just fundamentally broken when it came to picking partners.
I was lost. I had no direction, no trust, and frankly, I was too depressed to start dating again. I was stuck in limbo. So, when Dave and Mike threw their latest fit, I grabbed that ridiculous compatibility project like a life raft. I needed something cold, rational, and totally detached to focus on. Tracking the stars, charting their fate, was my way of convincing myself that bad things happen for logical reasons—reasons written in the sky, not reasons tied to my personal bad judgment.
My charting started as mediation for others, but it finished as therapy for myself. It gave me a process. I learned that my own sign combination, which I had previously dismissed as boring, actually scored incredibly high on the long-term charts I built. It was a complete reversal of my belief system. The drama I tracked in the Scorpio-Virgo pair was a perfect distraction and a weird kind of comfort, knowing the chaos wasn’t unique to me. It forced me to look at patterns, not blame. That practice saved my sanity more than anything else.
