If I were to take out a personal ad, it might read like this: I am a 26-year-old New Yorker who enjoys solo dinner dates with a cocktail and my Kindle, rewatching Anthony Bourdain and making the occasional ill-advised credit card purchase. Adorable, no? Only there is one wrinkle in this rom-com-ready brief: I am also a non-practising dater. I like to say I observe dating culturally, meaning I have many thoughts and feelings about dating—the politics of ghostability; the balancing act of wanting a partner but not, like, in an embarrassing way; the fickle nature of desire. I pay my romantic penance by going on a handful of dates a year, enough to feel like I’m not a social recluse, but not enough to be truly invested.
So far, this status has suited me well. I very much enjoy my no-strings-attached life. But we are challenged often in life and my challenge this winter came in the form of an assignment: Dating the least compatible zodiac signs—astrological signs that, purportedly, are terrible for me. As a student of astrology and as a Gemini sun—curious, quick-witted, charming with a penchant for dialectical analysis—who better to engage in this purely scientific endeavour?
In order to complete my assignment, I relied on my fairly substantial knowledge of astrology, for which I will not apologise. For those less familiar, here is a quick cheat sheet to the basic facts of each element in the zodiac: air signs are the intellects, water signs are emoters, fire signs are (go figure) fiery and earth signs are grounded. I am an air sign and, as far as dating goes, I’ve experienced difficulties with water sign men, and by “difficulties” I mean an unspeakable emotional intensity worthy of Sylvia Plath. So, in the interest of science, my first date had to be with perhaps the most watery of all water signs: a Cancer. Let’s dive in, shall we?
Date 1: Cancer
We’ll call my first date Cicero, the Cancer. Cancers, symbolised by the crab, are notorious for being nurturing, protective and moody. Their soft-heartedness is not meant to gel with the logical, oft-aloof Gemini.
After a hasty application of lip-liner and blush at my desk, I met up with Cicero at a popular bar in Bed-Stuy. I sat on my stool in the corner and pondered the menu as if I hadn’t looked at it at work before. Cicero came in a few minutes later, standing next to me while wrapping up a phone call with his sister. The sign is known for its attachment to their loved ones. A point toward the Cancerian tendency towards home and family, I suppose, but not the best way to begin a date. We greeted one another with a hug and placed orders for drinks. Him: a beer-and-shot combo, me: some mezcal fruity thing. His drink order recalled the messiness of a college night out. Cancers are notoriously nostalgic but this to me felt like a cry for help; you don’t take shots alone.
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