Man, I was stuck. Like, seriously stuck. Every Sunday night, I’d check that stupid Virgo love horoscope, and every week it was the same lousy garbage: “Communication challenges,” or “A misunderstanding with an Earth sign is possible.” My dating life was a flat tire, and I was blaming the position of friggin’ Saturn. It got so bad my buddy, Mike, finally stepped in. He just stared at me reading that online crap and said, “Stop reading that baloney. You gotta do something.”
The Setup: Ditching the Cosmic BS for Real Action
I decided to treat dating like one of my old coding projects. I had a bug—zero successful second dates—and my environment (the stars) was totally unreliable. I needed a verifiable, repeatable process. Mike, who, by the way, met his wife on a blind date organized by his grandma, challenged me to three separate dates that week, ignoring the horoscope completely. I committed to executing three non-negotiable tips, documenting every single awkward, wonderful, or disastrous moment.
I scrolled through the apps and swiped on three completely different types of people, just to diversify the data set. A librarian, an accountant, and a motorcycle mechanic. No idea what their signs were. Didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was implementing the plan.
The whole point was to prove that my action was stronger than some cosmic forecast written by some dude who probably worked at a coffee shop.
Phase One: Shoving the Phone into the Abyss
My first date was with the librarian. We met at a wine bar. My usual routine was to place the phone face up, ‘just in case’ it was a work emergency (read: ‘just in case I needed an escape button’). Mike’s Tip #1 was simple but terrifying: Leave the damn phone in the car or shove it deep into your coat pocket on silent.
I physically pushed the phone into the deepest recess of my jacket and forgot about it. It was like going cold turkey. For the first twenty minutes, I kept reaching, like a phantom limb. But because I couldn’t lean on the phone, I forced myself to look her in the eye and listen, truly listen. I didn’t get distracted by the sports on the TV behind her. I didn’t nervously check emails. I noticed the tiny scar above her eyebrow and the way she held her glass. After two hours, I actually felt present. I walked away from that date knowing more about her than I usually learn in three dates combined. It felt… real. No cosmic interference needed. I logged that outcome as ‘High Engagement, Low Anxiety.’
Phase Two: Asking the Real Stupid Questions
Next up was the accountant. She seemed really buttoned-up online. My usual date talk is safe: hobbies, job, where she grew up. Mike said that’s the problem—it’s interview crap. Tip #2: Ask questions that are slightly too personal, slightly philosophical, or just plain weird.
I started with the standard stuff, easing into the evening. Then, I dropped the bomb. I asked her, “If you had to choose one piece of clothing to wear every single day for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?” It’s a dumb question, right? But the look on her face changed everything. She stopped giving me rehearsed answers. She thought, she laughed, and then she said, “An old, massive Grateful Dead t-shirt because nobody expects an accountant to wear one.” Then she spilled out five minutes of anecdotes about her college days that had nothing to do with finance. I followed up by asking, “What’s the one thing you secretly judge people for?” and she answered it honestly! We dove headfirst into a conversation that was messy and fun instead of polished and boring. I finished the night feeling like I’d glimpsed the actual person, not the LinkedIn profile. My log said: ‘Authenticity Achieved. Conversation Depth: 8/10.’
Phase Three: Securing the Next Move, No Hesitation
The last guinea pig was the motorcycle mechanic. Cool, edgy, completely outside my comfort zone. By this point, the whole “Virgo is doomed this week” prediction was completely forgotten. The new goal was maximizing positive momentum. Mike’s final rule, Tip #3: By the time the bill hits the table, you need to have already mentioned what you two are doing next.
I walked in with two ideas already loaded. One was simple (coffee), the other was based on the fact she mentioned she liked old films (a local repertory theater). The date was fantastic; we talked about engines and road trips and the stupidity of dating apps. The server cleared our plates and was walking back with the check folder. That was my cue. I didn’t wait for the awkward “I had a great time, I’ll text you” dance. I leaned in and said, “Next Friday, the old theater is showing The Big Lebowski. You look like someone who needs to see that on the big screen. We’re going. Text me if that doesn’t work, but it should.”
I didn’t ask her out. I told her what we were doing. It took away all the agonizing guess-work and ghosting potential. She grinned and said, “Okay, that’s fine.” We paid, we left, and I had a second date lined up by the time I was back in my car. It was pure, unadulterated execution. I scrawled in the log: ‘Second Date Secured. Efficiency Rating: Maximum.’
Conclusion: Stars are Just Hot Air
So, here’s the bottom line. I started the week worried about some online horoscope telling me my dating life was dead. I ended the week with two solid second dates lined up and a high-quality connection established on the third, all from applying three stupidly simple, practical tips. Did the stars predict communication challenges? Maybe. Did I override that nonsense by actually listening and being present? You bet your butt I did.
The moral of the practice log is this: Don’t read the stars, make your own constellation. Action trumps prediction every single time. Now go put your phone away and ask somebody a weird question.
