I never liked Pisces very much. My mom is a Pisces. She was never there for me when I needed her. If I’m being honest, I don’t think she knew how to be there for me or any of my siblings. I don’t think she even knew how to be there for herself. Her mom died when she was fourteen and her youngest sister was about four. Truthfully, I don’t think she wanted to be a mother the first time around or the second.
Last summer, I spent six months getting to know someone. He was great but I just wasn’t ready. My heart had been closed off since my relationship ended three years ago and I communicated to him very early on that I wanted to take things very slowly. I frequently reminded him that I wasn’t ready but his interest ran much deeper than mine did. I truly did try but deep down, I knew something didn’t fit the way. However, I believed he loved me sincerely so I tried to make it work, even if it cost me more than I could afford to give.
By the end of that experience, my heart was ready to explore something more seriously. Earlier this year, I started dating again. Out of the four dates I went on, three of them were Pisces. The first two I only discovered were Pisces through conversations on the date, but the third Pisces, my Pisces, told me his sign before we met. I really liked him.
The first two Pisces dates were at best surface level and polite. The first was sweet and sweet — the type of man who opens the door for you, brings flowers, and takes you to that tapas place you’ve always wanted to try. But something didn’t feel right. When he put his hand on my knee or the small of my back, I wanted to rip it away. He asked to kiss me. I said no.
I rarely talk on the phone with men before a first date. But when my Pisces called me, my heart dropped the moment I heard his voice. It was low and honeyed. I used to tease my friends for catching feelings over the phone, but then I did the same.
When I was fourteen, I talked to older boys on Tumblr, mostly from LA. I quickly learned that online romance wasn’t for the weak of heart, and that I had no interest in men I couldn’t physically be near. At my core, I’m a romantic. A lover girl. Sensitive to the touch.
When he spoke, he felt like a childhood friend I hadn’t heard from in years. I was both scared and exhilarated by how quickly I felt safe, ready to share my past, my present, my future. I’m still furious at the universe for not giving us the grace to explore that connection.
I don’t recommend a three hour movie for a first date. There’s no room to talk, especially when all you want to do is talk. When he dropped me off, I felt anxious. I should have let the feeling pass. Instead, I said something. I think it placed both of us in our heads. Or maybe he just didn’t like me.
Despite trying to move my focus away from stars and destiny, Piscean energy kept reeling me in, pushing me to learn about her depth and meaning. But she rules mystery, secrets, and uncertainty, so there always seemed to be something murky beneath the surface. The more I tried to avoid her, the stronger her pull became. Maybe I hated the parts of myself she mirrored back to me. The softness, the longing, the surrender I hadn’t yet mastered.
Nearly six months later, I still think about him. We never spent more time together, but sometimes we shared light and polite conversation. Sometimes he’d be a little flirty, but never enough to move things forward. Like I said, I’m not one for online romance. I wanted to lie in the park with him. Cook dinner together. I couldn’t help but desire him, but it felt like the flame burned brighter on my side. Maybe he felt sparks too, but nothing grounded enough to follow through on.
This realization didn’t come easy. It clouded me with sadness. I kept praying, asking the universe for a sign of reconciliation. The feeling I had when I was with him, whether it was real or just an illusion, stayed with me. Despite how short lived it was, it stayed. And maybe that’s the hardest part.
I fear he was my soulmate, and my neuroticism ruined the connection. Some days, my heart doubts I’ll ever meet someone as special or beautiful. I feel ridiculous, mourning one date that held such weight. But maybe I fear that his only purpose was to crack my heart open, not to walk through this life with me.
Perhaps that’s the illusion of Pisces. In my heart, I wanted him to save me. Protect me. Care for me. In a way my mother should have but didn’t. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that these past six months have also been some of the most difficult and emotionally taxing of my life. Everything, on every level, feels like surrender and fear at once. I want to run. Even the city I grew up in feels unfamiliar, lonely, and terrifying. Most days, I won’t even leave my apartment. Life feels heavy.
I’m trying my best to turn inward and hold onto faith. Faith that maybe the life the universe envisions for me is brighter, bolder, and more beautiful than anything I could imagine. But I can’t keep waiting by the doorway with a lit candle for a man who refuses to walk through it.
While the candle still burns, I’m no longer waiting. I have my own garden to tend to now. However, a part of me still holds onto a sliver of hope that he’ll find me when he’s ready.
The Elysian Girl 
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