So, the question, right? Singles always ask: Should I be worried, or should I be hopeful? That’s the whole damn thing with being alone. I got so sick of the endless ‘listicles’ and the gurus telling me to ‘manifest’ my partner. It felt like walking through a minefield blindfolded. I needed a gut check, a proper X-ray of my single status, and let me tell you, I was not going to pay some coach $500 an hour for the same tired advice.
I always had a deck kicking around—the Rider-Waite standard—but I never used it for anything serious, just maybe a little peek at the day ahead. But about six months ago, I hit a wall. I mean, a proper, concrete, face-first collision with the reality that my love life was a dumpster fire. Every date ended in ghosting, drama, or just plain silence. The usual stuff, you know? But this time, it felt heavier. It felt like I was the problem, and I couldn’t even see what the problem was.
The Catalyst: How I Ended Up Talking to The Moon
Why did I suddenly jump into an advanced spread called “The Moon Love Tarot for Singles?”
For context, my buddy, Mark, he’s been dating this girl for two years, and they were supposed to move in together. Last week, she just packed her bags and left a note on the counter—a note! It wasn’t even angry, just polite, saying she needed “space.” Mark absolutely blew up. He started calling every single person he’d ever known, demanding to know what he did wrong. He went from a functioning adult to a walking mess in about six hours. I spent two days sitting on his couch, feeding him pizza and trying to stop him from texting her parents.
And watching that, seeing his completely understandable but utterly destructive panic, I realized I was doing the exact same thing in slow motion. I wasn’t blowing up outwardly, but internally, I was a complete disaster area, just constantly braced for the next disappointment. I knew I couldn’t help Mark until I fixed my own broken foundation. That night, I decided to stop reading the junk online and started the practice. I needed an answer that bypassed my own denial, something raw, something scary.
The Practice: Setting Up the “Moon Love” Spread
I dragged out the deck, the one I hadn’t properly touched in years. The “Moon Love” spread—specifically the singles version—is not one you mess with. It’s designed to expose the crap you hide even from yourself. I had to prep the hell out of the space. I lit a cheap candle, wrapped myself in my oldest blanket (the one that smells like laundry and comfort), and spent about fifteen minutes just breathing, trying to shut off the mental noise about my terrible week.
The spread requires seven cards, laid out like a crescent moon, and each position has a specific, brutal question. I shuffle like a madman, cutting the deck three times with my non-dominant hand, as I always do. The first thing I always do is visualize the question, not as “When will I meet someone?” but as “Show me the truth about my current path.”
I pulled the first three cards—slowly, deliberately, turning them over one by one:
- Card 1: Shadow Self (What I’m Hiding): I got the Nine of Swords Reversed. Man, that smacked me. It wasn’t showing me deep trauma; it was showing me I was choosing to stay awake at night worrying about things that weren’t happening yet. Pure anxiety, turned inward. I was actively keeping myself awake, obsessing over future failure.
- Card 2: Current Blockage (Why I’m Stuck): The Hermit. Ouch. It wasn’t saying I needed to be alone. It was saying I was isolating myself by being so mentally guarded that no one could get in. I was carrying my own lantern, but I was pointing it at the wrong door.
- Card 3: Hidden Hopes (What I Really Want): And then, the Ace of Cups. Okay, fine, that’s what I needed to see. Genuine, overflowing, deep connection. Not just a hookup, not just security, but true feeling.
The Core Revelation: Worried or Hopeful?
I analyzed the next four cards, which focused on the actual future, the actions I could take, and the outcome, but honestly, those first three were the whole damn reading. The rest just confirmed the trajectory.
- Card 4: The Immediate Action: The World (Move on, the cycle is complete.)
- Card 5: The External Influence: The Empress (Don’t chase; embrace abundance and self-worth.)
- Card 6: The Long-Term Potential: The Lovers (A choice is coming, but it will be a true partner choice.)
The final card, the overall energy, was The Moon. Which, of course, is the whole point of the spread—the fear, the illusion, the things lurking in the dark. It just screams, “You are creating your own reality based on fear, not fact.”
The process wasn’t about predicting a partner; it was about identifying my own damn screws-up. I wasn’t worried because of outside circumstances; I was worried because I was feeding the anxiety monster every night. The hope wasn’t an external gift waiting to be unwrapped; the hope was already there, hidden behind the isolation I was self-imposing. I needed to let go of the nightly worry session (Nine of Swords Reversed) before the Hermit could leave the cave.
I wrote down the names of the cards and their exact positions in my old notebook. I didn’t frame it as a prediction. I framed it as a project plan. Fix the internal junk first. Stop worrying. Start hoping by actually living like the hope is real. That felt more real, more actionable, than all the “Go on 50 dates this year!” garbage combined. That’s what I learned that night, and that’s the practice I’ve been implementing ever since.
