Man, I started this whole thing with one simple question:
Is this thing with the new person actually going somewhere? I’m a Virgo, so naturally, I typed that exact phrase into the search bar, looking for a little emotional shortcut. You know, a sign. Something to save me the trouble of actually having to talk about feelings, which is a total head-trip.
The first thing that popped up was some “Ganesha Monthly Horoscope” deal. I clicked it. Easy. I figured I’d read the love section, see what nonsense Jupiter or whatever was up to, and then try to sleep.
The Practice: Digging for Gold in Garbage
But that’s not what happened. I didn’t just read it once. I read it, and then I read the career prediction, and the health prediction, trying to connect the dots.
I started noticing stuff. The writer kept using these vague words, like “a period of intense emotional reflection” and “a need to re-evaluate past partnerships.” You can tell that to literally anyone on any given Tuesday, and they’ll be like, “Wow, this speaks to me!”
I went deep. I didn’t stop there. I needed to know if this Ganesha guy was legit, so I opened four other sites—one with a cute, colorful layout, one that was just ugly walls of text, one that charged money (I closed that one fast), and another from some random dude on a forum who claimed he was a Vedic expert.
Here’s what I actually did, the hard-core, unnecessary process I put myself through:
- I took every single prediction for the month—around 30 bullet points total from the five sources.
- I put them into a spreadsheet. Yeah, I made a spreadsheet for horoscopes. Don’t judge.
- I labeled columns: Prediction, Source, and most importantly, Reality Check.
- For ten straight days, I checked that Reality Check column. Did the “unexpected financial gain” happen? Nope, just my regular paycheck. Did the “major romantic breakthrough” happen? Only if you count my car starting on the first try as a breakthrough.
It was a total mess, man. One site said a “new relationship would blossom,” and another said to “avoid all new commitments.” One said Venus was chilling, another said Venus was throwing shade. I realized the only consistent thing was that they were all selling something, either expensive crystal necklaces or just clicks. My spreadsheet was a sea of “N/A” and “Total BS.”
The Real Reason I Got Obsessed
So, why all the effort? Why did I waste ten days of my life trying to prove or disprove the position of Mars on my love life? Because I was trying to find an answer that wasn’t there. And I was desperately trying to avoid a conversation that needed to happen.
The whole thing started when I got served with papers. Not job papers, not tickets. Divorce papers. It hit me like a train, even though I knew things had been cold for a year. I got them a few months back. I thought I was ready. I wasn’t.
The thing is, my ex was a Virgo. A textbook, analyze-everything, criticize-everything Virgo. Every negative trait those horoscopes mention, I had lived through. When I saw the title, “Read Your Virgo Monthly Horoscope,” it wasn’t about me—it was about trying to predict her next move, even though she was my ex. I was stuck in a loop, trying to use cosmic data to control a human situation I had already lost control of.
I fell into a big pit of self-pity and drinking. I quit my freelance gig because I couldn’t focus. I wasn’t just broke; I was emotionally bankrupt. I was sitting on my couch, feeling sorry for myself, scrolling through these cosmic predictions about my love life when my actual love life was officially over and my bank account was screaming at me. I was hoping the horoscope would magically say, “Your ex-wife will realize her mistake and come back.”
The turning point wasn’t a good prediction—it was a bad one. The Ganesha site said I’d face “long-distance communication issues.” Seriously? I was having issues with the person in the next room! It was so laughably disconnected from reality that I just stood up.
I threw out the spreadsheet. I didn’t delete the notes; I just started writing new ones. I grabbed my old resume, which was gathering dust, and applied for three full-time, steady positions that had nothing to do with my previous field. I didn’t care what the stars said; I needed a salary and a routine.
I landed the first interview, and I nailed it, mostly because the interviewer could tell I was done messing around. I talked about structure, stability, and showing up—stuff that actually matters. I got the job.
I realized the entire “Is love happening?” practice wasn’t a search for love; it was a desperate attempt to avoid taking responsibility for the mess. The stars didn’t tell me when love would happen. They just distracted me while my life was falling apart.
The real practice? The real answer? Screw the Ganesha guy. The answer to “Is love happening?” is always “Only if you put your phone down, stop reading vague garbage, and actually work on your own stability.” It took a horrible divorce and a stupid horoscope spreadsheet to figure that simple stuff out. Man.
