She is sad about something. It doesn't matter what it is. The world is dark and
dismal, and there's no hope that anything will change. Life is real, Life is earnest,
Life is serious, Life is monotonous - and Life is certainly negative. She's a
Taurus girl, indulging herself in a rare, but ever-so-deep and blue, binge of futility.
Along comes a Libra man. He sits down quietly next to her, takes her hand
gently in his own, and looks at her softly, in silence, after offering her his large,
clean handkerchief.She continues to frown, in abject misery.
part of what's wrong with everything. And here's another one of them, trying to
feed her a line so he can seduce her. But wait.
He's just sitting there near her, very near peacefully pouring calm all over
her, like olive oil - and gazing at her with . . . . is it adoration? Whatever it is,
it's romantic. Then, after a long while, he speaks.
"Never mind, darling. You'll feel better tomorrow." His voice is like
creamy-smooth caramel candy - and oh, how she loves creamy-smooth caramel
candy! (So does he, although it's very bad for both of them.) But even this
doesn't cheer her. No. Life is real, Life is dull, Life is a great big nothing. Life
is a put-on and a put-down. Both.
"No, I won't feel better tomorrow. IMen! Men areThis one isn't saying a word.won't. I won't. I won't."
Libra speaks again, still sweetly. "You're so beautiful when you're sad. Tears
make your eyes sparkle like green emeralds. If it didn't break my heart to know
you're unhappy, I'd like to see tears in them all the time. Let's see how they
look when you laugh."
Life is real, Life is - well, Life is getting more interesting. But - "No, I can't
laugh. I want to, but I can't. I simplycan't."
"Youthings will come to pass. Not a single dream you ever dreamed will fail to come It will.
Everything will be better tomorrow. The Sun will shine, the flowers will
blossom, the dew will be on the buttercups - and the female Bull will be deeply
in love for keeps with a charmer who was only trying to be kind, and who may be
confused when he discovers that what his romantic sentiment actually meant to
her was an ironclad contract of loyalty, for better or for worse, in sickness and in
health, for richer or for poorer - seven days a week, twelve months a year - for
as many years as they both shall live.
The voice you just heard was that of the Libra man, addressing the minister.
He didn't have the heart to hurt her, and couldn't decide what excuse to
give her, so he thought - "What the heck?" (Librans normally don't swear or
curse. Prostitute that heavenly voice with obscenities? ) At least, not when
they're young enough to say "I
few marital mistakes, they may occasionally gosh-darn the institution of marriage
that so magnetizes them.
So . . . what the heck? Why not smell the buttercups, and let her tuck him
in at night with passionate kisses, between soft blankets of love? "Whydo" for the first time, they don't swear. After anot?
thing, she's a beautiful girl, so what's
You see? Already he's trying to start an argument, just like a Libran. Nobodyshouldn't I marry her? It's my Life, isn't it? Marriage is a wonderfulwrong with marrying her?"
It's possible the Libra lover will find he's made the right decision by not
making a decision to charm his way out of the Taurus girl's feminine, appealing
wiles. They'll probably be as happy as two turtledoves, as they walk, hand in
hand, from room to room, through their rose-covered cottage in the country -
or if their dreams have been briefly delayed, through their soot-covered apartment
in the city.
THE DEN-LIBRARY-LIVING ROOM-PARLOR: They're in perfect
agreement here. She loves rich fabrics, in soft colors, a blend of beauty and luxury
that makes a room seem warm and comfy. He loves pastel shades that harmonize,
lots of bookshelves, loaded with books, furnishings that are quiet and
soothing. Maybe a minor tiff over traditional opposed to modern, or a chair or
lamp or so, but on the whole . . . in agreement. The stereo cost a small fortune,
but they're both crazy about it. Who can live without music? Not Libra or
Taurus (though he won't like it played too loudly).
THE KITCHEN: They're still holding hands, still draped in harmony. She
adores to cook (if she's a typical Taurean), and although she may prefer foodlike eggplant, potatoes, and vegetables, she's delighted to tickle his palate with there's a problem. Which is it? Does she stay in the basementhis fault. On the other hand, maybe it's her
fault. Who started it?
by making him fat with her rich desserts. Or, did he start it, by demanding that
his clothes closets be so perfect they'd pass inspection at Yves St. Laurent,
when Prince Charles is there making a selection? He used her fluffy bath towels
and scented soap - she used his thick bath mats and talcum. He spent their
savings for a golf club membership, and a new car to surprise her, but she wasn't
surprised, she was angry, and pouted sullenly for weeks. It sounds confusing,
but Libra will straighten it all out with nice, clear logic . . . unless after a while,
she turns obstinate and stops listening.
Libra men sometimes behave as though they're trying to drain Life of every
ounce of knowledge and every drop of pleasure . . . reading best sellers, rapping
with intellectuals, catching films, plays, and concerts . . . soaking up the admiration
of pretty girls at parties . . . and soaking up other things.
A Taurus woman prefers to stay home, and cuddle by the fire, maybe go outsocially once a week. She can't make jogging a way of life. She needs other inwon't be better, I'm sure
of it. Life is real, Life is earnest, Life is a put-on, and a put-down, a big fat nothing.
Her voice is like creamy-smooth caramel, when she soothes him. "You
aren't a big, fat nothing, darling. You're handsome and brilliant, and .. your
eyes shine like emeralds when they're full of tears. If you believe long enough,
and deeply enough, all good things will come to pass. We'll have to keep our
emotional balance and look at the bright side." Then she smiles, a dazzling
smile, and his heart turns over.
"Those are such beautiful thoughts, sweetheart. So wise. Where did you
ever learn such a lovely philosophy of Life," he asks, now smiling back at her.
" . . . from someone I knew, a long, long time ago. He taught me everything I
know about life . . . and love. I miss him. I wish I could find him again. I wish
he would come home."
Strangely they're back in each other's arms again. We should leave
them alone now, because he just whispered into her buttercup ear, "I
home - to stay."
But wait. Let's listen for just another moment. She's sighing, making contented
little mooing sounds. "Do you suppose you could take a day off next
week, so we could go out in the country and look at some farmhouses for sale?"
"Why wait for next week? Let's go right this minute."
to the countryside, he'll glance up at her some night, when they're sitting by the
fire, and begin sharpening his Libra logic and intellect again. "You know what
I've been thinking? That promise about - 'all good things come to pass.' Whatit really means is - all good things will
remains. Everything is always changing. Like that warning, 'even this shall
pass away.' I suppose that includes the sadness, as well as the gladness. If you
wait long enough, the gladness returns again."
You see? The fresh air and the hay and the green fields .. and the cows
. . . didn't dull his mind at all. But he doesn't have to teach her anything about
"waiting long enough." Patience is her secret power, over Life, and Love . . . anda big fat nothing."have comewill be better. Not perfect, but better. After they've movedcome - comma - to pass. Nothing ever him.
terests, and most of them lie in togetherness, the two of them . . . hiking through
the woods or going camping, remodeling the house . . . making some common
sense out of the present so they can build a future, buy a house in the country,
and leave the madness of the metropolis. She was not born for condominiums.
She was born for barns and hay and fresh a i r . . . and country roads to stroll
along, hand in hand, with the man she loves.
Not every Libra man is a playboy type. Then again, many of them are.
But, playboy or no playboy, he'll insist on keeping his intellect sharp, and one of
the ways he does this is by being gregarious. If she wants to continue playing
those happy scenes with him in the den, the bathroom, the kitchen, and the bedroom,
she'll have to accept the mingling at intermission. He may prefer studying
ancient civilizations, dabbling in one of the arts, or grabbing an extra degree
or two, to hanging out in a smoky nightclub. But, wherever and however he does
his mingling, she should get out of the basement, off the front-porch stoop, into
her prettiest dress, and tag along beside him - without pouting.
Maybe she won't enjoy it quite so much as he does, but she'll have to pretend
she does, if she expects to someday, through her beautiful patience, entice
him into moving into that remodeled barn in New England, or wherever. She
should try to laugh about it, with her magnificent sense of humor. After all, tomorrow
will be better, remember? It probably will be better, if there's a harmonious
Sun-Moon aspect between their birth charts. If not, well... tomorrow
may be worse. But on the other hand, nothing is perfect. And isn't that what
they promised each other? For better . . . or for worse?
"No," answers the Libra man, sadly. "TomorrowHe started it, by going out so much. No, she started it
the more exotic dishes that send him into appreciative ecstasies (and also perhaps
send him to the gym rather frequently to work out - and work off - the
calories). Then maybe afterward, a few hours out on the town with his male
friends. You know .. a little man talk. But he'll be back for her next meal.
THE BEDROOM: In this room, holding hands may not be enough. They'll
probably hold each other closely all night long, every night, in the sheer ecstasy
of realizing that the long search, for someone who realizes that love is the most
important thing in the world, is over at last. To him, that person is her. To her,
that person is him. They're both ruled by Venus, so their sexual problems
should be the very least of their worries. But his physical expressions of love
may be a little ethereal for her, at times. She may privately wish he'd put a little
more emphasis on the physical, and a little less emphasis on the intricate moods
of eroticism and fancy he verbalizes so beautifully. He may privately wish she
would put a little more stress on imaginative, poetic ways of making love, and a
little less stress on simple ordinary bodily contact. However, they'll meet somewhere
betwixt and between body, mind, and soul - and probably find their relationship
more satisfying than the average couple who exist in only one romantic
THE BATHROOM: They'll still be billing and cooing in pleasure. Or rather,
he'll be billing and cooing - she'll be softly mooing. He loves long, luxurious
baths and showers, fluffy bath mats, thick towels, expensive shaving lotion, and
rainbow-colored toothpaste for his Libra smile. She loves bubbly bath oils, powders,
perfumes, thick bath mats, fluffy towels, and scented soaps.
There's hardly a square foot of space, in or around their home, where they'll
disagree. Except perhaps for the front porch. That's where she may sit on the
stoop, and wait - and wait - and wait - for him to come home, on those nights
he's gone to the gym to work out - and out on the town afterward, with his
friends. (Male friends. She hopes.) And maybe the basement.
The basement is the room where she'll spend lots of time helping him keep
up his reputation as a handsome Libran charmer. That sort of charisma requires
stacks of clean shirts and socks. They must be folded just so, and placed
in his drawers, just so. It makes him nervous when his socks don't match, or his
new sweaters fade all over his white-on-white shirts. Then he may drift into the
habit of charmingly nagging her a little about being a slave to the house (and his
laundry). Well, now,
so much because she's weary of waiting on the front porch for him to come
home - because he went out - because he's weary of her being in the basement
all the time? Then maybe it'she shouldn't marry her. Did you hear me say that?
true, if you keep your emotional balance and look at the bright side." Now, he
smiles. A Libra smile is a deadly weapon that should be outlawed, so Libra men
could never use it to take advantage of poor Taurus girls, who melt into squidgy
fudge ripples when they're shown affection - and are truly appreciated. But so
far, they haven't been outlawed. So . . . he smiles.
"Tomorrow will be better. It really will. You'll see."
"No, it won't. I want it to be better, but I just know it won't."
Then he kisses her.must. Darling, if you believe long enough, and deeply enough, all good