I spent most of my twenties dating men who taught me more about myself than about astrology. Somewhere along the way, I realised I’d unintentionally started dating every zodiac sign. Already halfway through, the completionist in me did the rest. A decade later, I had twelve lessons and a version of myself shaped by the things I thought I wanted, then realised I didn’t.
The stories did not happen in this order, but arranging them by sign feels neater, a small courtesy to my Virgo nature. And for the record, all of this happened before it was embarrassing to have a boyfriend.
Aries
Aries was someone I had a crush on for a while; I floated into that date like I had won something. And for the first half, it genuinely felt exciting. He was passionate, glowing with enthusiasm about everything he loved. I just sat there absorbing the warmth of his personality, almost dizzy from the fact that I was actually out with him.
Then, I realised he hadn’t asked me a single thing about myself. I left the date feeling oddly flat, almost embarrassed that I had expected it to feel different. He even told me he wanted to spend his life getting to know me and then proceeded to ghost me. The worst part is that somewhere I still hoped he would call and say he had made a mistake. Ah, the teenage lack of self-respect. I cried over that boy for months and then dramatically vowed never to have a crush again.
Taurus
Taurus was kind, loved animals and was great with kids. He had that classic good-guy energy, the sort younger me would have proudly taken home to my parents. But he moved faster than I could manage. Before we even went on a date, he was already talking about commitment with a confidence that made me nervous.
Growing up, I assumed I’d jump at the chance to be in something serious. I thought I’d recognise ‘Prince Charming’ immediately and lock it down. But something in me stepped back. It surprised me how strongly I resisted what I’d always imagined wanting. Maybe this was the first time I realised that the woman I was becoming didn’t fit the script I’d written for her.
Gemini
Gemini is my Roman Empire, the catalyst for major character development. He was the man who answered work calls on dates, ghosted for weeks because “work got crazy” and cancelled plans because he wanted to “hang with the boys”. He was different when we were alone, different around people and different again whenever I tried to have a serious conversation. And yet, I fell so hard.
Maybe it was because he was also charming, funny and heartbreakingly lovable in those rare moments he was fully present. Looking back, he never pretended to be anything other than himself, even if “himself” came in four versions. His priorities were always clear. I was the one convincing myself he’d love me eventually if I just held on tighter.
Cancer
Cancer was a sweet, gentle and soft-spoken man who held doors and actually listened. But every story somehow circled back to his exes. He spoke about them with the tenderness usually reserved for a current partner. I realised after one date that he wasn’t out of love, just out of the relationship.
