By Sage Tippie
The very first thing I ask anyone when I meet them is, of course, “What’s your sign?” It encapsulates the most important information about them: their entire personality, your compatibility with them, what makes them angry, their greatest faults, when I’ll marry them, how our children will turn out, their darkest secret— you know, just run of the mill, basic stuff.
If they don’t know their sign, then, they’re automatically cut off. Duh. They don’t respect the vast power of the movements of our planets and the role that they play in every single thing that someone does? Clearly, they’re delusional, and I don’t have time to try to actually get to know people and build real relationships with them if I’m studying their birth chart for hours at a time. Everybody should know their sign.
My sign has literally made me who I am today. My countless life experiences, family, friends and genetics have absolutely nothing to do with the way I turned out. I owe it all to the fact that I was born at 5:02 a.m. on December 19, 2000. That’s literally it. I describe myself the only way I know how: a Sagittarius sun, Libra rising, Cancer moon. That’s really all you need to know about me. I’m independent- Sagittarius, harmonious- Libra, and intuitive- Cancer. My astrological sign says it’s true, then it just is. No use in fighting facts.
My horoscope gives me insight on literally everything that will happen to me every single day of my life. I love it. I absolutely despise surprises and not being able to predict everyone’s next move, so horoscopes really come in handy for that. Yeah, sure, they’re vague and could probably apply to just about anyone, but mine is meant for me: a Sagittarius sun, Libra moon, cancer rising, not you dirty Virgos or Aries. Being told exactly how my day will go is the perfect way to start my morning. You might say it’s hogwash or “coincidence,” but what about that time my horoscope told me I would have a bad day, and then I DID? Huh? That can only be explained by the position of the celestial bodies.
Astrology has completely changed the game for contemporary romance. It’s revolutionary. Forget stalking your crush’s Instagram and deciphering the meaning of that person’s subtweets. Now all I need is the exact date, place and time of your birth- nothing too invasive. Go on, ask your mom right now when you entered the world; do it, do it, DO IT. The stars will tell us if we’re compatible. If we are, lucky you. If we’re not, please get out of my sight immediately. I’m looking for an Aries sun, Aquarius moon, Scorpio rising. Even if we have an amazing connection, crazy chemistry, and just click right off the bat like we’re starring in a rom-com, if you’re a Pisces and I’m a Sagittarius, then forget it, buddy. Get lost. It’s cuffing season, and I’m serious. I only base my love life off of the real stuff, A.K.A. the alignment of the planets and their obvious correlation to who I’m meant to be with.
Astrology doesn’t just control my romantic relationships; it has controlled all of my relationships since forever. When I found out my best friend was a Gemini, well, of course, I ended our seven-year friendship with no hesitation. It had to be done. Ever since I realized my mom was a Pisces, I just can’t look at her the same way. Sure, she raised me since birth and has loved me unconditionally, but we’re just not compatible. Sorry, I don’t make the rules, the giant balls of gas in outer space do.
In conclusion, when I ask your sign, just tell me. The entire future of our relationship depends on it. Don’t make me assume you’re a Pisces or a Virgo, I really don’t want to have to do that.