So back in early 2020, I stumbled on this Aries horoscope prediction claiming it had the perfect timing for big life moves. Normally I’d roll my eyes, but hey, my career was stuck and my love life? A dry desert. Figured it couldn’t hurt to test-drive the stars.
Step 1: Printing That Horoscope Like Gospel
First thing Monday morning, I dug up the full prediction. Scribbled notes everywhere: bathroom mirror, fridge door, dashboard. Highlighted the “cosmic sweet spots” – those Mercury Retrograde warnings felt extra dramatic circled in red marker.
Step 2: Mapping My Mess Onto Star Dates
I grabbed my dusty planner and scrawled the key dates right over my boring meetings:
- January 10-31: Supposedly great for career jumps. Marked it “JOB HUNT???”
- March 21 – April 19: Peak Aries season, apparently ideal for bold personal moves. Scribbled “TELL MICHAEL HE SUCKS?” underneath.
- Mid-July: Venus something-or-other for relationships. Crossed out my camping trip and wrote “DATE NIGHT?” awkwardly large.
- All Mercury Retrograde periods: Big, fat “DO NOTHING IMPORTANT” warnings.
Step 3: Living By The Stars… Mostly
January hit. Horoscope said “Go for promotions!”. I did. Polished my resume, applied for three internal roles I wasn’t fully qualified for. Result? Two polite rejections, one ghosting. Cool.
Aries Season rolled in. Feeling the “bold energy,” I confronted my flaky friend Michael about always ditching plans. Outcome? He looked confused, mumbled “Okay, dude,” and we haven’t spoken since. Big win?
Mid-July. Venus thing. Scheduled a fancy dinner with my partner, hyped it up like a romantic mission. We went, ate steak, talked about the leaky faucet. Home by 9.30pm. Cosmic connection? Not really.
Mercury Retrograde warnings? Those I followed religiously. Refused to sign a lease renewal (delayed it 3 weeks), ignored tech sales, basically became a hermit. Saved me from buying overpriced headphones online, so… partial victory?
Step 4: Reality Check (Obviously)
By December? Career was still meh, Michael was gone, the faucet still leaked. Did cosmic timing magically fix things? Nope. The stars didn’t hand me jack squat. But forcing myself to act during those “ideal” periods? That pushed me out of my usual rut. Applied for jobs I wouldn’t have. Had a tough conversation I avoided for years. Planned a date night I’d usually skip.
The takeaway? Astrology’s “perfect timing” feels like throwing darts blindfolded. But using it as a weird, forced accountability calendar? That accidentally made me do stuff. So yeah, not magic. Just a fancy sticker on my planner telling me to move my butt.
