Okay so last night I was cleaning out my old laptop files—total nostalgia trip, you know?—and stumbled on this ancient “Virgo Love Weekly Horoscope 2017” thing I’d saved ages ago. Seriously, who even keeps this stuff? But curiosity got me, so this morning I grabbed a huge mug of coffee and decided to relive it step by step, just for kicks.
Step 1: Finding That Damn Horoscope
First, I had to dig through like a million random folders named “Stuff” and “Misc.” Honestly, my digital organization back then was trash. Finally found it in “2017 > Random > Why???” with a typo in the filename: “Vrigo_Love_2017_*”. Classic me.
Step 2: Actually Reading the Thing
Popped open the text file and scrolled past ads for cheap zodiac necklaces (ugh). The horoscope promised Virgos would “embrace vulnerability mid-week, sparking unexpected connections.” I snorted. 2017 me was painfully single and allergic to vulnerability. Still am, honestly.
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- Monday Prediction: “Past regrets resurface. Reflect but don’t dwell.”
- Wednesday Highlight: “A chance encounter could shift your romantic perspective!”
- Weekend Advice: “Don’t overanalyze feelings. Trust intuition.”
I vaguely remembered rolling my eyes at “chance encounter.” Like, where? Starbucks? The laundromat? My life wasn’t a rom-com.
Step 3: Reliving Tuesday’s “Regret Resurfacing”
According to my 2017 planner (yes, I found that too), Tuesday involved stress-eating pizza while staring at my ex’s vacation pics on Facebook. Real mature stuff. The horoscope was weirdly spot-on about regret… but only because I did that monthly. Coincidence? Probably.
Step 4: Forcing Wednesday’s “Chance Encounter”
Here’s where it gets funny. My planner said: “3 PM – Try that new artisanal coffee spot?? Maybe meet someone??” Clearly, I’d read the horoscope and tried to manifest it. Walked in feeling awkward AF. Ordered a matcha latte. Made awkward eye contact with a guy reading Sartre. Overheard him rant about “capitalist bean water” prices. Zero sparks. I scribbled later: “Horoscope fail. Also, matcha tasted like grass.”
Step 5: Weekend “Intuition” Disaster
Saturday’s planner note: “Date with Rob(?) from Tinder. Don’t overthink. TRUST GUT.” Big mistake. Gut said, “He looks fine?” but gut forgot to mention his habit of interrupting with obscure DJ facts. Horoscope said “don’t overanalyze,” so I ignored the red flags. Spoiler: He ghosted after. Found my journal rant from that Sunday: “INTUITION IS A LIAR AND THE HOROSCOPE IS AN ACCOMPLICE.” Drama, much?
The Big Realization
Rereading this now? It’s all vague enough to fit anything. Feeling regrets? Oh wow, the stars predicted human emotions! A weird interaction? “Chance encounter” achieved! The magic was just me cherry-picking moments to fit the narrative. That “unexpected connection” on Wednesday? Turned out to be that barista who remembered my name—because I went there every darn day.
Finished my coffee laughing. Would I try this again? Nah. But hey, it’s a hilarious artifact of wishful thinking. Next week’s project: finding my 2018 vision board. Probably predicted world peace and six-pack abs. Spoiler: Neither happened.
(Note to self: Vulnerability still feels like chewing glass.)
