Last week, I met with an astrologer. What a relief to learn that on the day I was born, Venus was in retrograde in my seventh house, the one governing marriage and partnership.
“Venus retrograde relationships are taken very seriously,” he said, “and even more so if Venus is found in the seventh house. There can be a tendency to limit opportunities to find love, even though—and because—love is so very important. Relationships are rarely entered into lightly. Venus rules love, relationships, cultural activities, art, luxury items, jewelry and beauty.”
I’m relieved to learn this, because for years, I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to figure out why I never married. And now it makes perfect sense. It also explains my passion for designer shoes, bangle bracelets and high thread count sheets.
Aries was also in my seventh house, an indicator of an independent spirit. With Aries and Venus in retrograde, sitting side by side in the marriage house, it was practically a blueprint for spinsterhood. So now I know that being single had nothing to do with my dynamic mother and soft-spoken father, or getting good grades in school. Maybe I can finally stop worrying that wearing my hair too short has compromised my ability to find a mate.
My friend’s mother, a psychoanalyst, who has been married five times, is a huge fan of the book Goddesses in Everywoman [1]. She claims to be able to predict whether a woman will marry by the type of shoes she wears. I have an inkling of what she would say about me, because as I write this, I’m in black micro-fiber Birkenstocks that are starting to shred around the edges. But that’s only because no one else is around. I could easily go into the closet and pull out my Christian Louboutin [2] high heels, if I had a date, or someone else, like my friend’s mother, to impress.
I would be okay with all of this, if I hadn’t read studies that suggest married women and men live longer than single people. It’s one thing to suffer the indignity of no one to dance with at my cousin’s second wedding. But when my mortality is involved, I really start to get resentful. This latest theory is based on a study on the health benefits of touch between close partners. Apparently just holding a loved one’s hand can alter the perception of stress and pain. Those who received the most relief were the ones described as “super-couples.” Which leads me to think that even if I were married, I’d have to be super close to my husband to achieve the best results, and a marriage can’t guarantee that. Why is there is always another mountain to climb?
The astrologer didn’t suggest I give up hope. He was sure that my romantic energy through the years has been productively re-directed towards friends. So I was thrilled to see the latest research in an article [3] in today’s New York Times, indicating that friendships may be the key to health, after all. If that’s the case, I’m really on the right track!