I’ve never met a man born between [redacted] and [redacted] that I didn’t want to smack in the face. There, I said it. It’s not that I go around plotting violence based on birth dates, but astrology has a funny way of explaining why some people just rub me the wrong way.
Before you roll your eyes and dismiss me as another horoscope-obsessed millennial who plans her life around Mercury retrograde, hear me out. I won’t date someone based solely on their zodiac sign. I know it’s absurd. But will I let astrology quietly influence my decisions? Absolutely. And, if we’re being honest, we all use systems of categorization to make sense of the chaos that is human interaction. Whether it’s Myers-Briggs personality types, love languages, or whatever attachment style quiz is trending this week, astrology isn’t any more “out there” than the rest.
And let’s not pretend I’m alone in this. Astrology has become a cultural phenomenon in the digital age, spawning memes, horoscopes, and TikToks that make you laugh until you remember how eerily accurate they are. But alongside its rise in popularity has come an inevitable backlash, for reasons that I believe are quite frankly steeped in sexism and misogyny.
Astrology, like most things women are drawn to, is routinely dismissed as a silly or superficial pseudoscience. Meanwhile, men’s hobbies—whether it’s obsessing over fantasy football or analyzing niche historical battles—rarely face the same scrutiny. But astrology is often treated as unserious because women are its primary audience, and society has a long history of labeling women’s interests as trivial. But here’s the gag: astrology is one of the most ancient belief systems in the world. It predates organized religion, helped shape some of the earliest human civilizations, and guided decision-making for millennia.
Long before Abrahamic religions emerged, humans looked to the skies for answers. The ancient Egyptians charted celestial movements to guide their agricultural cycles. The Mayans used astrology to create their calendar, which was so precise it predicted solar eclipses thousands of years in advance. Even Islamic scholars, at the height of the Abbasid Caliphate, relied on astrology for navigation, medicine, and decision-making. The House of Wisdom in Baghdad housed some of the world’s most renowned astrologers, blending their observations with mathematics to map the heavens.
Astrology was deeply integrated into Arab culture, shaping everything from poetry to architecture. But today, it’s largely frowned upon by Islamic scholars, likely because it dances on the line between science and determinism—a concept that doesn’t sit comfortably with many religious interpretations. This shift in perception, however, doesn’t erase astrology’s historical significance or its undeniable influence on some of the most advanced civilizations in human history.
And really, if ancient civilizations could use astrology to plan their empires, predict eclipses, and make life-or-death decisions, surely I can look to the stars to figure out who my next boyfriend will be.
The problem with modern astrology isn’t astrology itself; it’s how oversimplified it’s become. Reducing someone to their sun sign is like judging an entire book by its title. Astrology is far more nuanced. A person’s birth chart is a complex map of their personality, shaped by their sun sign, moon sign, rising sign, planetary placements, and house systems.
Take the ascendant, for example—it reflects how you present yourself to the world. The moon? That’s your emotional core. Then there’s synastry, the intricate dance of how two charts interact, revealing the dynamics of your relationships. Combine this with the degrees of planets, aspects, and transits, and you start to see how astrology is less about broad generalizations and more about individual cosmic fingerprints.
Astrology isn’t saying “all Libras love pretty things” or “all Virgos are neat freaks.” It’s a layered, nuanced system that takes years to fully grasp. Some people dedicate their entire lives to studying it, and even they don’t claim to know it all. With all the planetary placements, house systems, degrees, and aspects at play, there are literally billions of unique astrological combinations. If you think astrology is saying all Leos are the same, you’re missing the point entirely.
That said, there are moments when astrology feels a little too on-the-nose. Like that time I went on a date with an Aries man—the sign that Zamboni, a club in America, banned because they noticed Aries patrons started the majority of the fights. True to form, this man got into a brawl with three strangers 15 minutes into our first date.
And if you think astrology is just for millennials on Co-Star, think again. Some of the most powerful people in history have leaned on astrologers. Nancy Reagan famously consulted astrologer Joan Quigley during her husband’s presidency. Princess Diana sought guidance from astrologers throughout her tumultuous life. Even J.P. Morgan, one of the most successful financiers in history, reportedly said, “Millionaires don’t use astrology; billionaires do.”
These examples aren’t just anecdotes—they’re reminders that astrology has always held sway in powerful circles. In fact, the British royal family has long been rumored to plan significant events based on astrological advice. Whether you believe in it or not, its cultural and historical weight is undeniable.
Personally, I’ve had too many eerily accurate astrological experiences to dismiss it outright. For some reason, I seem to exclusively attract Virgo, Cancer, and Capricorn men. Coincidence? Maybe. But I can’t help but think the stars are on to something.
So, no, I won’t date you based on your star sign. But I will check your birth chart, analyze your synastry with mine, and low-key ignore your DM if you’re a Pisces man.
