The first time I can remember feeling beautiful was the first time I read what it meant to be a Libra. I do believe that moment sparked my lifelong love affair with astrology. There are a million reasons why I grew up feeling like the ugliest girl in the world. But when I saw myself through the eyes of the stars, I was a Goddess of love. It was the first time I didn’t feel invisible. I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself. Astrology has always been my warm blanket on a cold night. When I can’t rationalize the razor blades of life, when my heart is in pieces, when my foundation is crumbling… I look to the stars. The night sky pours reason and hope into my empty little life, filling my soul with infinite possibilities.
The fact that Uranus has been in my seventh house of relationships for the past few years is one of those situations. Uranus is the planet of surprises. And every guy I have dated during this transit has been full of fucking surprises. Knowing that I am supposed to be going through this helps me. It’s proof that my life is a course in soul evolution.
One guy had a family that I didn’t know about. Another guy, the one that inspired this blog, passed himself off as a shepherd, when in reality he was a wolf. If you have read any of my other posts, you might have noticed that I have been pouting about him pulling a full 180 degree spin on his personality shortly after I moved in. But there’s one guy who shocked me more than anyone else. The guy who’s soul still lingers in my bones.
I met him the day before Christmas Eve. We had been talking online for more than a while and I really couldn’t believe how easily our conversations gushed and poured into each other. Our correspondence could have been a best selling novel. He was beautiful inside and out. A red headed, blue eyed beast of a man with a huge gleaming smile. On our first date, he showed up with homemade DVDs of the old Beetlejuice cartoons because I told him my kids loved the movie. He was sweet like that. He talked a lot, but I liked that about him, because I don’t like to talk when I’m nervous.
Of course I had looked his birthday up before meeting him. Of all the things I had learned about him, his astrology chart had me intrigued like a mad scientist in a morgue. On the day this guy was born, the sun, the moon, Mercury, Venus, and Mars were all in Scorpio. My natal Mercury and Mars are in Scorpio too. Scorpio is one of my favorite signs. The energy is highly intuitive. When two people with heavy Scorpio energy come together, they form a bond that cuts directly through the bullshit and right into the soul. This was exactly how my relationship with this guy unfolded. Scorpio is intense. It’s the strange, the weird, the marvelous. I knew there was something different about him, as soon as I saw his chart. I was hoping for a ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ situation. That’s not quite how it panned out.
I have never in my life been treated the way this guy treated me. If he could have afforded red carpet and rose pedals upon my arrival, they would have been there. Every time I went to his house, he would cook for me an amazing dinner. He had playlists prepared of my favorite music. He had a little silver dish filled with joints rolled up and ready for my lips. His whole life revolved around me. I had always been on the other end of that equation. It felt uncomfortable at first, being treated like a queen. But I’m not going to lie, I got used to it real fast. My time with him was exactly what I needed. He was the first guy I loved after my divorce. And the only guy whom I have ever confessed my love to first. I didn’t mean to say it. But the first time we made love, it just came out. It’s all I could think about while in the throes of the most amazing sex I’ve ever had.
The first kiss came the first night we made love, about a month after our first date. I thought it was strange that he didn’t kiss me at first. I couldn’t figure it out. Every other guy I’ve ever gone out with spends all of their time trying to get into my pants. Not this guy. If he hadn’t treated me like such royalty, I would have wondered if he even liked me at all. This mysterious form of seduction had me like a moth to a flame. You know me, always wanting what I can’t have. Seduction wasn’t his intention. But his ability to worship me while holding his space was a direct and precise shot into my heart. I was obsessed with the mystery of him. It all soon made sense after the night that he slipped a letter into my purse.
We had spent another long night of getting high, listening to music, and talking. We had finished the last of the series, “The Pacific,” about World War II. I absolutely loved watching that series with him. He had always been fascinated by history and was a living encyclopedia of that war. In a weird way, I felt like he had helped me to better understand my dad’s experience in combat, with his commentary about the show.
When I got in my car that night, I could not wait to open his letter. He had asked me to wait until I got home to read it. I pulled into the parking lot of a church down the street and ripped that envelope apart. I began to read his first few words of the hand-written six page letter. My heart was pounding, reading about how he is starting to fall in love with me. I knew it. He adored me as much as I adored him. He went into detail about why he loved me. This was his way of proving to me that his words were real. And then he started to write about his childhood. He told me about the trauma of watching his stepfather beat his mom repeatedly and worse every time. He told me about crying in the corner of his bedroom, wishing his real dad was around to save his mom. He told me about the men in his life that he saw as heroes and the men in his life who terrorized his young heart. And he told me that as a child, he had liked to dress up in his mother’s clothes. He told me that he has worn women’s clothes in the privacy of his own home throughout his entire life. He told me that he wanted to look into taking hormones to grow breasts and live as a woman full time. He told me that he wanted to keep his penis. He told me that he had only shared this part of himself with one other person. He told me that he had never been with a man, but had fantasized about it. And he told me that he would understand if I never wanted to see him again. That moment was surreal for me. That was Uranus in my seventh house. I was definitely shocked.
He seemed so masculine to me. He wore work boots and a torn up Carhartt jacket. He was obsessed with sports and war and guy stuff. His rough, edgy manliness was what attracted me to him.
My emotions were on fire. I was heartbroken. I thought I had found the love of my life, only to learn that I knew nothing about the real him. And yet I was honored that he cared so deeply for me, that he gently tucked his darkest secret into the palm of my hand. Ironically, I thought about the balls it took for him to be so vulnerable with me.
I thought about my family, how they would react to this. I thought about my daughters, how they would feel about it. But what I thought about the most is how much I wanted to hold him. His letter was so full of shame about his secret. I loved him. I wanted to be the one person who he could feel safe with. I wanted to be with him. That was all I could feel.
So I sent him a message…
‘We should definitely talk more about this. But I’m not going anywhere.’
And the next time I saw him, we held each other. We kissed. We made the most beautiful kind of love. I had more orgasms in that one night, than I had throughout my entire eight years of marriage. Scorpio rules sex and connection. And together, we had so much Scorpio going on. It was like we had traveled to another dimension, where we moved through our bodies by sharing them. It was hot. It was steamy. It was raw and real and spiritual. To this day, I have never experienced anything like it. He went down on me so perfectly, I came faster than if I had done it myself. And he slurped it up, swallowing every drip of me he could get to. I now understand why men want to know if you swallow. It’s fucking sexy to have someone ingest the pleasure they just gave you. We went at it all night long, over and over. And at 4am, after he thought I had fallen asleep, he got up to scrub his bathtub so that I would have a clean place to shower in the morning. No one has ever taken better care of me. I have never felt more like a Goddess than I did when I was in his arms.
The next day, I told him that he could wear panties if he wanted. And I offered to let him wear mine. It was kind of kinky and hot. He was turned on beyond belief that I would go along with his desires. I was turned on beyond belief that he was turned on by me.
I was mystified by this guy. I’m writing this, wondering why the hell I ever walked away from him. There were a few reasons I guess. The first is that old fear of commitment that came creeping back when I had mentioned wanting to buy a house and he responded by asking if I’d consider moving in with him. I couldn’t handle that level of commitment at that time in my life. But I think the biggest reason I walked away was that I didn’t want to be the girl who held him back from pursuing his curiosity about being with men. I really did love this guy. And I wanted him to fly. I couldn’t live with myself, had I been the girl to cut his wings. I wanted him to adventure through this hidden piece of himself, to discover his heart’s desires. I guess you could say that we shared unconditional love. Though our time together was rather short, his love for me was strong enough to impact my heart to this day. He set the bar rather high and for that I am forever grateful. And wherever he’s at on his journey, I often wish him the very best of love and light.
We were together only a few months after that first night of passion. We’re still Facebook friends today. He still likes my pictures. I still wish him a happy birthday every year.
I saw him for the first time since we split a few months ago. It hurt a little to look into his eyes again. A small price to pay, to be able to say that I absolutely got to experience a once in a lifetime kind of love.