In June I'm going to criticize a girlfriend's too-tight pants. On August 11th men won't be able to take their eyes off me. On the 28th of October I am supposed to have an alfresco quickie (suggested location: a golf course after dark).
This information is courtesy of the 2007 edition of Cosmo's Bedside Astrologer, a pull-out from their magazine that predicts the luck in lust and love that will be granted to the astrological signs in each of the twelve coming months.
I love the Bedside Astrologer and all its trashiness. My first year in Minnesota I snipped a copy of the Bedside Astrologer and brought it into the office. I felt the need to share the intimate secrets I was learning about the year ahead, and so I went around the room and asked everyone their sign. Then I read their predictions, their types, their personality profiles.
The Bedside Astrologer told Greg that it was okay to admit he longed to be swept off his feet. It told Katy that she craved a man who could coax out her raunchy side. It told Ryan he was a fiery-type, one who longed to go on adventurous dates like surfing.
This year, the Bedside Astrologer is telling me my best day for love will by July 17th. My best day for sex will be August 14th. Apparently I'm going to have a good summer.
But what I find most interesting--more interesting, in fact, than the month-by-month run-down of my year--is the sections that are devoted to analyzing the men of each astrological sign and the section that compares the signs to see who would be the best lovers and the best significant others.
Awhile back, I confessed to not having a type (except for my obsession with dishwashers and Republicans), but I guess that's not really the whole truth. I have a thing for Virgos. Both Ex-Keith and the Wily Republican--as well as some lesser men--have been Virgos, and those two were my Big Loves. Since I'm a Virgo, I understand Virgos. And because I think I understand them I fool myself into thinking I could predict things about them, that I could understand what they were thinking about me. That, of course, wasn't ever really the case.
But the Bedside Astrologer says that a Virgo-Virgo love connection is good. It can be stable and warm and loving. But that's not really who the Bedside Astrologer thinks I should be with. Virgos, they're okay, but I need someone with a little more pep, a little less anal retentiveness. The Bedside Astrologer has some suggestions. It thinks I should be with a Taurus or, even better, a Scorpio.
The Bedside Astrologer says Taurus boys are the types who would rescue stray dogs. They would be the type to put me on a pedestal. They would also give me something described as "tender nooky."
Scorpios, though, they're the best bet says the Bedside Astrologer. They suggest Virgos marry Scorpios when at all possible because they would have "head-spinning sex." A Scorpio would make a Virgo-girl feel safe.
Important things to note. It's good to enter the new year armed with this type of knowledge. And the Bedside Astrologer doesn't stop there--in fact, it goes as far to tell its readers the special sex trick each astrological sign craves. Pleasing a Taurus man involves light nuzzling and kissing from behind his ear to the hollow of his throat. Pleasing a Scorpio man is all in the build-up. Talking dirty and expressing what you're going to do is the key to making him happy.
And I know these things must be true, must be considered gospel, because when I flipped to the Leo section--just to see if I'd done right by an ex of mine, who happens to be a Leo--I saw that you're supposed to appeal to a Leo's competitive side. The Bedside Astrologer suggested strip poker. And that made me think of that one summer a few years ago when I ended up sitting in a musty kitchen, balancing on a rickety chair that was meant to be porch furniture, and looking across the table at boys who were losing clothes fast as a mean tournament of Euchre raged on. And outside, the frogs were singing and a warm summer rain was beating on the roof of my car. You could hear it through the screen door. You could hear it like it was music, like it was the best thing you ever heard.
The later-on-part of that night didn't turn out so bad, so maybe the Bedside Astrologer is on to something. Maybe it's time I tucked those suggestions away and waited for my Taurus or Scorpio to come find me. Maybe this will be a good year. Maybe things will finally feel right.