Since I’ve been tapping into my woo-woo side lately (see: my home makeover), it was only a matter of time before my attention turned to romance. And when dating app Bumble added zodiac filters to its slate of functions late last year, I felt as though—and I will not apologize for these next four words—the stars had aligned. I’m a hopeless-romantic Pisces, and this innovation certainly appealed to my affinity toward drama and destiny. What’s more swoonworthy than finding soul mate by filtering via zodiac sign (i.e., the love language of the universe)? I mean, sure, maybe that kiss in the rain in The Notebook takes the cake, but Nick Cassavetes isn’t exactly directing my life. So, I logged in, flipped on the zodiac filter (plus added a height requirement of at least 5’11″—in addition to zodiac sign, you can filter by things like height and activity level), and got to swiping.
A cursory sweep of the interwebs taught me that Pisces is most compatible with Cancer, Taurus, Scorpio, and Capricorn, and least compatible with Sagittarius and Gemini. My ex is a Taurus, and I just could not do that to myself again, so resolved to nix any bulls from my compatibility slate. I made it a point to reach out to every guy I matched with (unless he had a picture of him with a dead fish that I had missed when swiping—not because my sign is the fish, but because dead-animal photos are a no-go for me).
I heard back most often from Capricorns, but the three I went on dates with ended up being duds. The lone Scorpio I met for a drink was also not a match, and the other suitors I chatted with really aren’t even worth mentioning because we never made it out of the app.
Astrological love matches are apparently more complex than analyzing just your sun sign (the one you typically look at when reading your horoscope).
Enough was enough. I may irresponsibly trust the internet to diagnose me medically, but I will not leave my love fate in its hands. So I consulted astrologer Carolyne Faulkner, author of The Signs and founder of Dynamic Astrology, who looked at my birth chart to help me determine my most compatible signs. Astrological love matches are apparently more complex than analyzing just your sun sign (the one you typically look at when reading your horoscope), so I was eager to get her take on my sitch. For example, even though I have four planets in Capricorn, she tells me a Cap on his own will likely be too boring for me. And since my rising sign is Sagittarius, having someone with Sag energy who likes to go out and be adventurous would appeal to me, even though my preliminary searches told me to steer clear of these Archers.
So I went back to Bumble and adjusted my filters, this time looking for Sagittarians. I found one in the form of a tall, handsome man who worked in sports. We ended up drinking wine at a bar and talking (and, okay, making out a bit) until 1:30 a.m., when he called me an Uber home. He texted me to say he had a great time, and I echoed.
Apparently even the strength of the universe isn’t enough to upend the deeply engrained habits of swiping culture.
We never spoke again, and if that ending surprises you, then you probably haven’t dated recently. It is rough out there, but I wasn’t even fazed. Apparently even the strength of the universe isn’t enough to upend the deeply engrained habits of swiping culture. It’s that lack of surprise that led me to take a step back and audit this whole crappy situation: Dating apps provide us with an endless string of potential love interests, and if one doesn’t work out, it’s easy to fall into a “thank u, next” mentality.
Sure, it’s good to keep in mind that there are plenty of other fish (or, in my case, Archers) in the sea, but I don’t want to become desensitized. My romantic Piscean nature is one of my strengths. I’ve been told that I need to be talking to multiple guys at once to maximize my odds and prevent me from putting all my energy into one person. That I should have options. I tried that; It didn’t make me happy, because that’s not me. I don’t want options, and I don’t want to just be an option for someone else.
If I’m into someone, I’m into them; I don’t want to talk to other guys. And if I get hurt, so be it. This whole process made me realize that in order to find someone truly compatible with me, I have to honor my nature before worrying about someone else’s. Us Pisces do love to feel all the feelings. I am basically this Michael Scott gif. And I’m okay with that being my destiny.
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