posted June 24, 2013 01:19 AM            

Uranus, 3 degree and NN 8 degree in 10th house Scorp

Ruler,Venus in the 7th house

Option 2 please.Thank you

posted June 24, 2013 02:14 AM            

My 10th House is in Taurus.

There aren't any planets in my 10th House.

Venus in Sagittarius
Venus Conjunction Mars
Venus Conjunction Jupiter
Venus Square Saturn

posted June 24, 2013 03:07 AM            

quote:

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Originally posted by LiesLilithsaidtouranus:
Can i get option 1?
Capricorn mc, neptune conjunct mc by 9th house
10th house uranus conjunct mc
Mars and sun in mc in Aquarius

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For LiesLilithsaidtouranus:

I'm assuming you're female because of your screen-name but don't hate me if I'm wrong, please!!

Now your chart is another doozy! Because you have three planets in your 10th house you may be one planet primarily or maybe a mishmash of all those planets, who knows but make sure you report back for me!!

I'll do Aquarius first because of your Uranus being conjunct the MC and I'll be putting up Aries female, Scorpio female and Leo female later too so keep checking back to compare, please!

Sign+Mind for Aquarius Female:

The sign of Aquarius is primarily ruled by the planet Uranus, that of "sudden change," which represents, among others, the Universal Principle of Diversity and Deviation, and such concepts as mutation, revolution, and indeed evolution. Saturn is the sign's secondary ruler, signaling a taskmaster's sense of structure and discipline, the ironic means by which Aquarius woman manifests and, indeed, dedicates herself to the cultivation of her sometimes deviant, if not outright freaky, persona. Above all, the female Waterbearer, as the moniker suggests, is in the business of renewal, and she's in it for life. In mythology, the original water bearer to the gods was Hebe, the so-called daughter of the Olympic queen bee Hera— actually, she is Hera in her virgin form. Yearly, Hera took a dip in a sacred pool to revirginize herself, emerging as Hebe, or "Youth." As cupbearer to the gods, she poured out the immortal-life-sustaining ambrosia, the divine sustenance. Enter Aquarius woman: She does that same thing in life, forever feeding those with whom she comes into contact with life-affirming hope, instilling self-confidence in others' convictions. She is often considered the proverbial godsend, just the sort of person one phones in a pinch, that answer to one's prayers. This role in which she is cast seems encoded in her astrological makeup: Just as Uranus-ruled deviation becomes the very means by which a species evolves and, thus, survives, so, too, does the zodiac's beautiful mutant, Aquarius woman, become a saving grace to others, not just on a personal level, but on a societal scale as well. Like Hebe, she has already been "made new" via the possession of an inherent, intellectually evolved outlook on life. Aquarius doesn't hold to the past, but rather looks toward the future, as dictated by her planetary rule. The 11th Astrological House associated with her sign is that of future goals as well as rejormative, communal activities and the identification of the self with mass objectives— it is also, by rights, that of spiritual unity.

In considering the concept of spiritual unity, one thinks of commonality amongst peoples, which is of course one interpretation. But there's more: that of the individual communing with the eternal or, to coin another 11th House phrase, the universal mind. Indeed, Aquarius is naturally blessed with the understanding that any separation between the human condition and divine inspiration is an illusion— life, she inherently maintains, is a spiritual experience— but she isn't personally wrapped up in her insights. Whereas her male counterpart might be enraptured by a sense of revelatory understanding, Aquarius female has no ego attachment to such a perspective. She is ready to pour out her divine acumen democratically, to whomever she meets, because she believes that everybody deserves to experience heaven here on earth. This difference is also mirrored in each of these sex sign's Waterbearer archetypes: Ganymede was a mortal parvenu, hand picked by god (Zeus) to bear the albeit Greek Holy Grail; Hebe, who Ganymede replaces, is a "born" immortal, none the less happy to perform a servile function. Moreover, being a goddess wedded to yet another mortal parevenu, Heracles (Hercules), whose name means "glory of Hera," Hera as Hebe, is thus a "descending goddess," that is, willing to come down to earth. In so doing, she elevates and immortalizes her spouse. This pattern is prominently echoed in the Aquarian female's relationships as well. To be sure, the Waterbearer is the living embodiment of such descending, or emanating, goddesses. Like Hebe, she isn't precious about her own "divine" status; rather, she is happy to commune with the common man, if not romantically take up with the particularly male parvenu population of the planet. Likewise, she draws upon other "emanation" deities such as Iris (the Rainbow), who is Hera's messenger, and Eos (the Dawn), whose main myth depicts her love for a mere mortal— both are personifications of natural manifestations that symbolically portray hope and renewal.

Like a rainbow, Aquarius woman is an emanation of positive reinforcement. Inspiration, a word related to simple respiration, is the very air one breathes in her presence. It is no less than uplifting spirit that the Aquarius seeks to convey, hoping to see people's 11th House hopes and wishes come true by instilling absolute conviction. Needless to say, her company can be addictive. One feels incapable of doing wrong around her, a tendency that may backfire and breed complacency just as easily as it sparked motivation. And this seems to be somewhat the point of her Pollyannaism: Acting as a salve, if not offering salvation, comes to define the Aquarius. The list of famous Waterbearers is filled with women who set themselves up as beacons of empowerment to those who get the short end of the stick in society, particularly other women and minorities— Susan B. Anthony, Rosa Parks, Betty Freidan, Helen Gurley Brown, Toni Morrison, Oprah Winfrey, Alice Walker, and Ellen DeGeneres all urge others to embrace diversity in themselves and, in so doing, to achieve new levels of dignity and personal advancement. Aquarius represents, by example, the power of self-help. This may explain why so many great female writers are Aquarians as well— along with the aforementioned novelists, Edith Wharton, Virginia Woolf, Colette, Gertrude Stein, Ayn Rand, even Laura Ingalls Wilder and Judy Blume, are amongst the most influential, socially pointed minds ever to put pen to paper— the literary medium is, by design, meant to reach as wide an audience as possible. Indeed, nobody is more populist in her perspective than the female Aquarius— it is the overriding quality in her personality, the seeds for which are sewn in her early life.

There is rarely anything lofty or stuck-up in Aquarius's nature. She is detached from the desire for status, preferring to be of the people, for the people, one who has seemingly let go of all worldly or material concerns. Fittingly, the sign is associated with the age group 70– 77, a time of life when one is resigned to her own imminent eternal communion with the great beyond, having little to prove or be concerned with on the earthly plane. Her preceding sign, Capricorn, starts this ball rolling: Letting go of material concerns, she takes up an ascetic lifestyle, a way in which she distinguishes herself as better than others. To the Aquarius, however, whether one meditates and eats vegan, or chows fifteen bags of greasy chips while smoking and watching porn, is all the same to her. She's beyond making judgments, and best of all, she doesn't try herself with expectations of perfection. Aquarius takes herself as she is, and it follows she expects others to do likewise. This living embodiment of a renewal goddess is naturally forgiving and considers her fellow human beings deserving of absolution, mercy, grace, and ultimately salvation. More than any other astrological character, she wakes up thinking how she might help make others happy. As a nod to one of her patron goddesses, and to coin a classic Rolling Stones' lyric, "she's like a rainbow": her raison d'être, indeed her very presence, seems designed to inspire and encourage. Open and forthright, her "funny face" and whimsical style can't help but brighten a person's day. Proving herself a great listener, she'll pick up a conversation right where it left off, even if months or years have elapsed. One soon realizes that she's democratic to the core, doling out her sunny-funny disposition to anyone with whom she comes in contact. She may at first seem like the soul mate one has been waiting for, but in keeping with her archetypal patrons, those messenger goddesses who make it their business to appear, showering grace, to mere mortals, Aquarius woman is the spiritual mascot of the zodiac: that is, one who brings good fortune; and yet mascot also shares its etymological origin with the word mask. Her infamous love of costumes notwithstanding, Aquarius probably doesn't realize that it is her birthright to don the proverbial red rubber nose and floppy shoes. She is the zodiac's, and thus humanity's, comic relief. Aquarius lives all her life as if in the throes of second childhood (70– 77 years old), literally taking every opportunity to dress up and play act. Even her everyday wardrobe suggests a bit of costuming. Metaphorically speaking, next to being a clown, cheerleader is Aquarius's favorite guise of all, both roles ensuring she'll bring joy and inspiration to others. Some say she does so to make up for her own sadness and disappointment, which isn't strictly true: Rather, Aquarius channels her personal grief and grievance into encouragement for others.

Aquarius's default disposition as the human equivalent of the smiley-face logo is perfectly in keeping with her status as the only female fixed-air sign of the zodiac: Air symbolizes the mental plane— thought— in astrology, just as it points to social experience. Thus, Aquarius deals in solid ideas, bent upon solidifying them into fact, i.e., uppercase Truth. A thinker like Ayn Rand could only be an Aquarius, her philosophy of objectivism based, as it is, on the concreteness (fixedness) of the abstract (air-ideas). To her, abstraction was real and the only evil was irrationality. Indeed, she is known for having reacted emotionally to broadest abstraction. The whole notion of an ism is itself an Aquarian one. Males of the sign are forever on the vanguard of new understanding, lost in their individual glimpses of fresh reality via revelation. She, in contrast, seeks to reveal Truth( s) to others. According to her, divine-truth experience exists in the here and now, as the ubiquitous though masked reality— and it is her specific role on the planet to tear away the veils of illusion that cover it. In mythology, Iris is Hera's messenger to mankind, forever bringing "the good news," the rainbow being a bridge between mortal and immortal existence. In the biblical vein, just as the male Aquarian is associated with John the Baptist, the female Aquarian is Salome. Her striptease "dance of the seven veils"— one for each color of the rainbow— was a ritual performance depicting the goddess in her "descending/ revealing" form, drawing down to earth and unlocking the doors of the seven heavens via which her lover, typically a mortal priest-king who was sacrificed, could reach immortality and become a god. In this view, the Baptist is spiritually wedded to Salome (shalom, "peace"), his beheading representing a ritual sacrifice aimed at his edification. Rainbows, in most ancient cultures, are ladders or bridges by which one travels to "heaven" whether upon death or in revelatory trances.

Growing up, the Waterbearer's father is considered something of an oddball or anomaly. Typically, he will be a sensitive, creative type, if not a frustrated artist whose secret aspirations find little room to surface in the confines of the household. Her mother is most often a pragmatist, and she may even seek to override her husband's more free-form musings. While also still appreciating his quirky nature and inventive spirit, in some instances, she may overtly put her spouse down as a silly (even worthless) dreamer. Whatever the case, Aquarius girl identifies with her father, intellectually and spiritually, as do most females born into masculine (air, fire) signs. Her father might have a "workshop" of sorts, what she considers a magic place and where, as a girl, she will feel most comfortable and inspired. As he often slips away to this, his sacred space, it is also one of the only environments in which she can bond with her dad, away from more utilitarian family influences. Aquarius girl may be written off as having inherited the oddest aspects of her father. But the Waterbearer is proud to be considered Daddy's girl. In the case of divorce, Aquarius will dream of leaving home and living the vagabond lifestyle, perhaps walking in her father's footsteps. The age-old childhood dynamic of wanting to run away and join the circus was undoubtedly ushered in by Aquarius girls the world over gleefully expressing such a desire. From early on, she feels like a freak, but unlike most people, she considers this a good thing. Aquarius is searching for identity, and she's conscious of doing so. At school, she might be a bit of an outcast, as conformity of any kind sets her teeth on edge. Typically she'll dive full force into artistic enclaves such as drama or music. She may consider becoming a majorette, if only to wear the goofy outfit. Otherwise, she steers clear of the social mainstream and sticks to the subversive, nerdish coffeehouse scene, one rife with other misfits in the wrong-style jeans who care little for the trappings peer pressure is pushing.

posted June 24, 2013 03:16 AM            

quote:

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Originally posted by starr33:
Gemini MC

Mercury in Scorp/3rd house

Mercury Quintile Jupiter

Mercury trine Moon

Mercury Semi-square Pluto

Mercury Sesquiquadrate Saturn

Saturn in Cancer/10th house

Jupiter & Uranus trine MC

Moon opposite MC

Venus/Neptune opposite MC

Sun quintile MC

Mars Semi-sextile MC

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For starr33:

I'm assuming you're female by your name and if I'm correct, you stated you have Saturn in the 10th House. Give a read to the Capricorn Female I posted for 11Nahyt and tell me if that fits, please!

posted June 24, 2013 03:22 AM            

quote:

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Originally posted by Lioness:
My MC in Sag, Jupiter in h10.

Option 2

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For Lioness:

Hey, you're so easy with the ruling planet in the 10th! Tell me if this fits!

Body+Soul for Sagittarius Female:

Sagittarius woman loves, indeed lives, to be seen. She makes a bold statement, grandly entering a room, not so much hoping as assuring that all eyes will be on her. She is born understanding the power of first impressions, and she is always determined to make a glorious one. Slowly, often exaggeratively, sauntering into a social setting, Sag's arrival is announced by her voice, a laughing, built-in fanfare as would herald Hera's entrance into the hall of Olympus. And like that high and mighty queen of the gods, Sag will not be overlooked, underestimated, or in anyway outshone. For her, life is as much pomp as it is circumstance, and she lives every day as if in celebration— similarly, she herself expects to be celebrated. So long as she meets with attention and appreciation, Sag is a beaming, upbeat figure, one who positively glows, as if literally lit from within— the whites of her narrow eyes flash, her skin gleams, health and vitality shining as if from every pore of her statuesque being. Larger-than-life, Sag is the tawny Texan of the zodiac, no shrinking creature of subtlety, but one eternally committed to giving life all she's got. As a quick perusal of a list of notable Sag ladies reveals, the sign boasts a bevy of emblazoned women— to Austen, Didion, Alcott, Powell and Eliot are added Willa Cather, Emily Dickinson, Rita Mae Brown and Margaret Mead— those who managed to shine through man-made social barriers and often literally get their stories heard. Global fame, against all odds, seems to be an inalienable Sag-female birthright. Personifying Hera's haughty aplomb, Sagittarius embodies the greatness of woman, proving the so-called second sex possesses as much, if not more, superhuman prowess as the most high and mighty man. Fittingly, the Centaur girl can not help but appear a potent, often towering figure— literally, Junoesque— just as she is the very apt picture of coltish, if not downright horsey, beauty, such as the looks of the likes of Sagittarians Kim Basinger, Daryl Hannah, Jane Fonda, Jamie Lee Curtis, Susan Dey, Tina Turner, Maria Callas, Cicely Tyson, Dionne Warwick, Mariel Hemingway, Liv Ullman, Lee Remick, and Felicity Huffman vividly illustrate. Indeed, no sign boasts a more remarkable roster of gorgeous glamazons, a line-up of living, breathing depictions of über-feminity, veritable goddesses as would seem beyond the grasp of mere mortal men. And that's just the way she likes it: Especially in her search for a mate, Sag isn't interested in attracting anyone less than a similarly exalted icon of masculinity, one whom she considers head and shoulders above the rest. Like a would-be queen adorned in all her resplendent glory, she parades herself before admiring eyes, taking great pains with her appearance— no creature of subtlety is she— so as to project so divalike an image as would weed out any man who lacks the confidence and charisma necessary to make a compatible partnership.

Sag naturally possesses the necessary ingredients with which to properly pull off such a dazzling demonstration. Typically wholesome, with a corn-fed beauty, she is as healthy in her body as she is in her mindful ambition. Born with an athletic build, solidly boned and sinewy, she is as much a potential tomboy as her fellow fire-sign sisters— Aries and Leo— yet, unlike them, she neither, respectively, embraces her boyishness nor blends it into a tough-girl brand of womanhood. Instead, Sag seeks to subdue her more strapping qualities, going the extra mile to feminize herself in so absolute a manner as only the farsighted Archeress can do. Typically, she grows her hair into cascading tresses, often lightening her locks while plucking, tweezing, or bleaching any errant fuzz on her body or face. With her protrusive forehead (made all the more pronounced by a concave "third-eye" space), dramatic cheekbones, a small nose with dramatically flared nostrils, deeply creased nasal folds, thin lips, and a strong, often jutting jaw, there is something extreme about her features. Her chiseled countenance might even lend a masculine or handsome air, which she takes great pains to compensate for, thinning her brow and plumping her lips cosmetically and otherwise feminizing her appearance. With large, squared shoulders and powerfully muscular arms, she knows to wear draped, rather than fitted styles of clothing that hang from her frame, further contributing to her goddesslike look— long column dresses are a favorite Sag fashion choice. Such styles also offset a short waist while enhancing her greatest feature: those endlessly long legs, which she shows off to maximum effect. Exposing a fair amount of skin works well for the Sag, whose natural brand of beauty is at once fresh and wildly forboding. As a nod to the sign's horsey symbol, her body is streamlined, her typically small breasts a mere afterthought, barely masking her pronounced pectorals, her sleek torso tapering down to slim, shimmering Sag-ruled flanks and a rather flat behind. Her pelvis may be wide, which makes her ***** appear small and shy in comparison, in any case a typically unhairy affair, if only due to regular waxings. Her appearance is all important to the Sag, who knows that her body is the best advertisement for a superior mate. The long-range-minded Archeress leaves no stone unturned in making herself over in the likeness of some pampered queen who, at a glance, seems strictly fit for a king.

Having such foresight, in addition to being born under planet Jupiter's limitless power, allows Sag to see beyond obstacles and successfully target her aims, sexual or otherwise. The rub, however, is that she sometimes goes too far in putting herself "out there" and is not always "up" to the emotional challenge of fulfilling the role of the iconic maven that she projects. The result: a disconnect of sorts, whereby, though styling herself as some towering luminary, she simultaneously retreats into a little-girl personality, an attempt at psychological self-protection against the lofty expectations (of herself) she instills in others. Such a dichotomy in character is often interpreted, by men, as an unassuming allure along the girl-can't-help-it line; while other women might mistake her often genuine giggly guilelessness as just another arrow in her quiver of self-motivated manipulations. When it comes to pure appearances, Sag may, too, be guilty of overshooting her mark, styling herself as a big-time gal seeking to leave any humble or underdog origins in the dust— though she never quite escapes her horsey sign's more hayseed roots. Simply put, Sag can be all too obvious, prinking herself— that is, dressing for show— in such a manner as will telegraph her desired goals. If she's determined to become chairwoman of the board, for instance, she'll don the most conservative garb and get the most teased-and-sprayed hairdo on the planet. If she wants to be seen as fashionable, she'll sport an on-the-nose replica of what Vogue has laid out on its latest pages. In youth, because she inherently seeks praise, Sag might be the consummate junior-beauty-pageant contestant who begs her parents, rather than being pushed by them, to compete. She yearns to dazzle, notoriously drawn to sparkling sequins, exaggerated styles, and ultrabright colors. This is not the sign representative of the "best" in life, but the "most." If it's new and expensive, Sag will take two. She seems not to have a understated bone in her body, let alone a sedate item of clothing in her closet. She is an overt, decided diva, though an often gawdy goddess, if deified she must be.

posted June 24, 2013 03:34 AM            

quote:

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Originally posted by HannieBananie:

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For HannieBananie:

With nothing sitting in your 10th House you're another easy request!

Sex+Sexuality for Cancer Female:

Starved for male affection, Cancer really clings to the first eligible boy who takes romantic notice of her— she's the girl with a serious steady relationship while still in high school. Still, she has her standards: In fact, she will already have edged her way into a shiny-happy social scene in which the pool of guys are rather traditionally minded, athletic, all-American male versions of herself. Even at sixteen, she's already thinking marriage. To her mind, stranger things than living happily ever after with your childhood sweetheart have been known to happen— in truth, however, they rarely occur for Cancer. Coming off the chaos of her upbringing, mired in the mayhem her mother created, the Crab is drawn to stoical males from stable, if not rigid, backgrounds. She assumes that the void left by a lack of father love is best filled with a perfect stereotypical cutout of a male; and so she often gravitates toward unemotional, insensitive, or even unattainable types, believing such qualities are linked to conventional masculinity. Indeed, all the hackneyed gender images are covered: A guy must be tall, sporty, authoritative, and stoical. Thus, she is drawn to males from cultural backgrounds that emphasize male domination if not a hint of the Fatherland— Aryan (and often Aries, the zodiac's own militant macho man) as well as Anglo and Scandinavian types whose rearing is disciplined, impassive, and stiff-upper-lipped.

As is often the case for the Cancerian Cinderella, she tends to come from a broken home, or from the proverbial wrong side of the tracks. Hence, this put-upon maid seeks to social climb— not necessarily to great heights, but just high enough to rise above what she, at least, perceives as the drudgery of her lowly station, arriving at that comfortable middle class. Likewise, if the Cancer is born into a life of privilege, she tends to ditch the silver spoon in favor of a more democratic existence— the affluent Cancer girl goes the extra mile to appear all grassrootsy, typically styling herself in hippy-dippy fashions. Like Cinderella, Cancer simply wants her due— some human dignity— it's not as if she longs to be a bonbon eater like her (step) mother may have been. One imagines that Cindy would have been most kind to her servants in the castle, forgoing any caste systems already in place, becoming the proverbial "people's princess" like that real-life, iconic Cancerian royal who tragically fell victim to the inordinate chaos of her existence. Princess Diana's Cancerian nature was, in fact, all too vividly drawn in the collective conscious, her on-the-verge-of-tears expressions indelibly etched in media memory. Her emotional life was, arguably, in conflict with the inherent stoicism of such a romantic bond as she made. Not able to fit into the stiff-upper-lip ideal of such an existence, her feelings overflowed the ages-old confines of the royal arrangements, and she indeed re-created the image of the monarchy, repairing the us-and-them quality, as did Cinderella, inherent to aristocratic societies. Feeling like the low woman on the totem pole, young Cancer does a bit of pulling herself up by the bootstraps, not letting her background stand in the way of mixing and mingling with the beautiful courtiers in her school courtyard. To be sure, she wants a strapping prince, a scion of suburbia who literally stands head and shoulders above the rest. But she's not like the self-assured Taurus, who is blissfully unself-conscious of her own desires, simply attracting attention with her self-obsessed feminine wiles. No: Cancer is a floodgate of churning yearnings. She is utterly needful of expressing her loving emotion to a man. She doesn't simply aim to please, like the Bull she is desperate to do so, pulling out all stops to shower affection on the male who gut-wrenchingly inspires her love. Cancer doesn't have casual crushes. She swoons, cries, and pines for love and the want of its being returned.

Poor, poor, pitiful Cancer: So dire are her sentiments that she expresses them blatantly, shooting the moon in making her exaggerated feelings known. She's like Marianne in Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility, all the former and none of the latter, and thus ripe to be picked as doormat of the year. In a nod to her water-cardinality, Cancer rushes like a river into things without much circumspection. Sex may be the most startling means for Cancer's self-expression, a vehicle for declaring a deep-seated need for the unconditional love she's after. Ironically, such profound sexuality may prevent her from attaining affection, as "giving it away" can become something of a negative pattern. Of course, to the untrained eye of a teenage boy, it simply seems "she's gotta have it." For more than any other girl, sex for the Cancer is too easily confused with love. She pours her heart out to boys who are willing to entertain her need for affection in return for a little nooky. And it's a deal Cancer girl is willing to strike: This maid whose sign is archetypally steeped in mating needs contact far more than she needs the protection of her so-called virtue. Sex, she believes, is a means to emotional repair.

It is Cancer's gut instinct to look for a savior in a mate. But she isn't the damsel in distress she perceives herself to be; rather, our moony Cinderella must take responsibility for her own survival. The hero she requires is more the sacrificial sort. In Egyptian mythology, Osiris was the savior-god wedded to Isis, who swallowed him up and then gave birth to him as her son, Horus— talk about your Mother Principle at work. Indeed, Osiris was known as "he who impregnates his mother," more apt for Cancer man, but the point is well taken here: Cancer woman doesn't require a man who'll come to her emotional rescue, but one who'll sacrifice himself to the watery rush of her emotions, willing to be swallowed into her delightful vortex. Osiris, as the story goes, was yearly torn to pieces and reassembled by Isis, all but for his "lost" penis, which she then replaced with a fake one made out of clay. (Right, cheers, thanks a lot.)

The metaphorical significance is that, being the consort of the zodiac's own Isis does require a bit of ritual castration: The male can't impose any patriarchal dominance, but rather must take a second-sex role in the relationship, subject to Cancer's authoritative whim. Cinderella isn't swept off her feet; she wows the prince, who then spends his life metaphorically groveling at hers— the significance of his kneeling at her piggies, putting on that glass slipper, a symbol of the uterine entrance, the "crystal cave," where male initiates entered the world womb at Delphi. Trouble is, these aren't the guys Cancer generally goes for early in life. Instead, she often confuses a man's steady outright inability to love, a horrid stoicism, with the loving anchor she truly needs. She is perpetually being drawn to such loveless creeps, domineering guys whose tyranny she misreads as loving attention. Such a character will not make a suitable consort to the Cancerian princess. She needs a true equal partner, a prince among men, not some tyrannical king who'll expect her to do his bidding. In the matriarchal mind, kings are to be sacrificed. Such an autocrat won't be able to take the brunt of her increasingly surfacing emotions. Ironically, it is those overbearing men onto whom she'll eventually unleash the overage of her pain and anger, castrating these callous cads in any case. Going against the flow of Cancerian emotion, these dictatorial dudes drown, while the more charming, compliant fellows will be carried along on the current of her outpouring love. Meanwhile, even the imperious boyfriend she couples with will forgive any volatility he may suffer at her hands; that is, while she's using them, as well as other parts of her anatomy, to pleasure him. He will, for a while, delude himself into thinking that his putting up with emotional tantrums only leads to Cancer's making up in bed for the commotion she causes.

In truth, Cancer woman does have a voracious sexual appetite that is no cinch to satisfy. Even when she's on the giving end, which is her usual, and indeed her favored, place to be— blowing her mate or doing all the major maneuvering, even in a submissive position— her lover should realize that he's being engulfed for her pleasure, not his. It's probably what made those bootleg Pamela Anderson videos so enthralling— Cancer woman is a most willing recipient of anything being dished out. Indeed, it may seem as if no job is too big for the Crab girl. For when it comes to sex, she doesn't take her "I feel" motto lightly. Cancer wants to experience erotic sensation as acutely as possible, requiring a deep rogering for a reasonable duration, though she'll expect it to be done with enthusiasm and gusto. She isn't into rough poundings. Rather the rhythm should be long and deep. Similarly, going down on a guy is never the chore it can be for many women; in fact, one would think the Cancer girl had an unhingeable jaw, as she really hunkers down on her hunk, moaning all the while in ecstatic delight. And praise be to Isis, she really does swallow her lover whole. After all, the Moon rules both saliva and vaginal lubrication, facilitators of her desired profound penetration.

But there's another meaning to this cardinal-water sign being "wet," i.e., overly sentimental, doting, and mothering toward men. Probably nothing leads to the Cancerian's being walked all over by guys more than the sickeningly gooey manner in which she relates to a man. She might be a total ***** to other women and dismissive of men who don't make her stomach flip, but toward a guy she has feelings for, the young Crab especially will act the wide-eyed, baby-talking, overly adoring, and indulgent worshiper. It is one exaggerated symptom of the Mother Principle channeling through her— a predilection that could easily make onlookers loose their lunch. She'll fawn and fondle her partner, always having to touch or kiss or cling in some coy manner. Indeed, it is often a put on as it runs counter to what her true nature would dictate; such desperate shows, she thinks, will strengthen her bond. In time, all that constant doting will begin to take its toll— what was originally meant as a means for puffing up her man will only become a glaring symptom to him of a ridiculous dependence. In time, it will even strike her man as phony, as, increasingly, in private, she will express her inevitable anger at playing the submissive in public, using her partner as a veritable piñata for venting these bottled-up feelings (not to mention the full line of baggage filled with her childhood scars).

Even hitting the sheets, which has always been the salve and the glue that keeps her and a lover together, doesn't quite do the trick anymore. Cancer woman is predisposed to sexual addiction as she might use "the act" to anesthetize her feelings, often causing her to seek out more elaborate and edgier erotic scenarios to achieve that click of oblivion she seeks. Along the way, urging a lover to go "faster, deeper, harder" may eventually see him heading for the door in search of a less psychological sexual relationship. Indeed, nobody uses sex to fill the emotional void as much as she. Cancer vies with Virgo for the proverbial title of woman who loves too much, and yet giving is the true nature of the zodiac's very own source. As with most experiences chez Madame Crab, her sex life and especially the nitty-gritty activities therein, might seem a maelstrom to the more staid observer, but any suspected chaos isn't generally the problem, but rather part of the solution (double entendre intended, as even etymology makes this link between the liquid and the "answer"). It's all math to the Cancer, anyway, as she metaphorically solves her problems two-by-two, throwing herself into a very literal mating game, without the slightest guilt at doing so, and not exclusively for the quick, dirty reason that it feels good; the fact is, no other act is more natural to the Cancer in that it provides a profound release and a channel for her dammed emotions. Remember, she is the very embodiment of gut feelings, so what might be considered emotionally overwhelming to the rest of us is generally absorbed by Cancer, unfazed. A creature of the deep, the Crab is uniquely equipped, of all women, to safely negotiate sexual waters that most might alternately consider profound or abyssmal, complete with a cymbal-crashing nod to being a crustaceous bottom feeder. But never fear: the ark of the lifelong covenant Cancer makes with herself is salvation. And survival, as she knows it, depends first and foremost on dependence, which most often takes the literal form of sexual union, so graphically illustrated by the flood-myth, replete, as it is, with its mass copulation "at sea."

Accusations that Cancer looks to lovers and lovemaking for emotional rescue are typically true, but what most people don't realize is that she doesn't do so in vain. Meanwhile, the Crab is equipped to weather the flood of any ensuing consequence, forever able to sally away, leaving behind (never amassing more) emotional Samsonite. Whereas the precocious Gemini female tends to flirt with overwhelming sexual experience and often falls in the face of invoked disaster, Cancer, the personification of deluvian experience is, hence, born into damage, often both real and metaphoric, spending her book of days drifting toward repair. All is entropy for Gemini, while despair is a default starting line for astrology's Cinderella. Life, in Cancer's estimation, has always been a broken proposition, the home she's brought up in smacking of that quality, in one way or another. Just as the concept of water breaking describes both shattered levees and the liberated rush of embryonic fluid, any past dilapidation ushers in a deluge of emotional relief, release, and rebirth. Cancer pours her guts out via experience. Sex, specifically, will be no placid affair, indeed it can be torrid, torrential. However, the moral of any flood myth is that life goes on, and such is the psychological modus Cancer holds firmly in her mind. She is forever parlaying all the baggage from the 4th House storage of the home one comes from into furnishing the home one establishes. And every day brings new hope and promise despite her signature moping and whining. She may wallow in the deepest of sentimental and indeed sexual mires, often ending up labeled a mess as a result, but every melancholy state will be a means of mourning and attaining deliverance from enduring sadness. Cancer doesn't skirt over "issues;" rather, she employs her sign's motto and feels their full import— she embraces her feelings, finds closure and moves on. To be fair, it must be a drag having to constantly do this— she doesn't want to be a wet blanket— still, it's the Cancer who isn't "dealing," the one pretending life is a party, wearing that lampshade crown, who should cause the real concern. For most Crab women, life is about securing emotional dry land. And sex plays a huge part in Cancer's feeling her way toward such providence.

In the process, Cancer provides herself, and indeed a partner, an abundance of erotic experience to choose from. Ironically, she is at once the most experimental and the pickiest of female signs— that is, there's nothing she won't try once, thrice, or more times in this process of defining, for all time, what suits her sexual self. Kudos to the fellow who finds himself in the throes of Cancer rummaging the depths of carnal knowledge— he might easily assume he's hit the motherload. Which, of course, he has. She approaches every act as a new beginning, and even if with a mate for a million years, she'd still seek to stir something fresh into the sexual mix. Anyone of the eyebrow raising activities mentioned in this book might find their way onto Cancer woman's sexual menu at one point or another. The barometer for what this tempestuous character enjoys is that infamous connection to her feelings, something she never loses, even in the midst of a so-called sexual debauch. She could be drenched by some cardinal flow or another and still smile up at her partner with an expression of purest affection. She is no victim, even when consenting to activities of the most submissive kind, those many might well consider sexually degradating. If such proclivities pass the checkpoint of her gut instincts, so be it— they will be waved on through, inspiring little cause for Cancerian unrest. She not only leans, but learns on her lovers. With every sexual interlude, the Crab gleans a little bit more about herself, growing via these experiences into a solid pearl of womanly wisdom in the form of which she can offer her hand some day, when that prince will inevitably come. She isn't just sexually messing around, but readying herself, building that ark, both as a promise and a throughline for her inter-dependent future with a mate. Although this mechanism might be years in development vis a vis her lovelife (having more than her fair share of fun in the process), Cancer will exhibit this same sort of MO in less touchingly personal sectors, namely career and her social existence.

Anticipation, as braless Crab lady Carly Simon once crooned, is Cancer's watchword. Defined as "confident expectation" we herein see her Cinderella-like modus of not merely wishing for but manifesting her dreams. Generally entering the job force early in life, often working her way through school, she finds a financial rock to stand on as well as an atmosphere of order in the workplace that provides grounding against any upheaval at home. A cardinal sign of the first order, Cancer is rarely content to be low lady on the totem pole and, from her first day on the job, she will begin anticipating her own advancement. Other women, especially, sense she's forever cooking up some scheme for success. Indeed, in so doing, she makes quantum leaps on the careerfront. But anticipation too often turns to precipitation; that is, hasty, indiscreet or even reckless moves geared toward her own promotion. Of course, that term has its watery connotations as well, while all of Cancer's secret plans mirror the pattern of a slow pregnancy followed by a sudden delivery. The Crab seemingly rushes into the status of boss, or often becomes her own, under the turned-up and out-of-joint noses of stymied colleagues. To them, she simply doesn't play fair: She may use associates as stepping stones, blurring the lines between professional and personal involvments, specifically with men who'll make up the bulk of her supporters. (Indeed, Cancer may often be killing two birds with one stone, advancing her carnal wisdom while furthering her own career aims with the same individual.) Mutual back-washing is de rigueur, as Cancer, in signature style, pulls out all stops to get what she wants. In the face of the flood, there are always casualties. And when it comes to her own fullfillment, Cancer takes an all-others-be-damned attitude, particularly sandbagging fellow women. She may have few female friends as it is, and she certainly won't make many in the workplace, perpetuating that wicked stepsister disconnect with her own sex. What girlfriends she does have will be unapologetic types like herself with whom she may get up to "no good," forming little covens of like-minded, sexually liberated ladies with whom to compare mathematical notes on length, width, and volume of men *** notches on their bedposts or to commiserate over the many complaints of the female condition. She can juggle more than one guy at a time, still clinging fast to her ideal of marriage; continuing to pursue those clean-cut Clark Kents whom she'll put through their sexual paces while keeping them in the dark about her murkier exploits. She may even keep a stud or two on a string whom she'll use purely as sex tools, "liking 'em dumb" because it's easier to do so. Otherwise, she might rock in the opposite direction, hooking up with a hardcore swinger who's looking for a woman willing to explore the depths of sexual experience. Often, that would be her.

posted June 24, 2013 03:59 AM            

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Originally posted by MsPrism:

I want you all to tell me your MC or which planets you have in your MC and I will paste the description the book has and you can tell me if it's true or not! How fun!!

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10'th House (MC) in Aries
Moon in Aries (MC)

What does it say? ^^

posted June 24, 2013 04:09 AM            

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Originally posted by somethingexcellent:
Can you do the sex + sexuality for me? MC in Taurus (Venus in Scorpio if that's relevant). No planets in the Tenth House.

EDIT: Male, bisexual if either are important details!

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For somethingexcellent:

Awe, it's great to get the first post for the men! Welcome welcome! Thank you so much for telling me your gender and your preference. There is info for each sign when homosexual. Since you're bisexual, I'll post all the info instead of just the hetero information!

Sign+Sexuality for Taurus Male:

Through his upbringing, Taurus was conditioned to believe that female affection is achieved by letting a woman take control. And much to his delight, somewhere during his sexual development, he learns that idleness leads to his increasing, well, idolness. Perhaps as early as junior high, Taurus boy is given reinforcement for this nonchalant behavior: He's the unassuming lad being gawked at, and giggled over, by a gaggle of girls— all the while, pretending not to notice. Yet, by the time he reaches college, he has typically met with so many erotic experiences, through little effort of his own, that he figures, "My sex life's not broken, why fix it?" For Taurus, passivity becomes a most powerful ***** magnet. To the opposite sex, he appears the ultimate malleable male: that guy who'll let a girl get her hooks in and mold him. Unfortunately, what accompanies his compliant attitude is apathy to commitment. In his early days, when venturing out in search of sex, Taurus is often found in a pack of other young men, most often those who are his physical inferiors— not too hard to imagine considering the Taurean's pleasing looks and physique. He especially eschews the company of other overly good-looking guys as might outshine him, forever fearful of competition and possible defeat. To his mind there can only be one true Bull per pen: In a sense, Taurus sees his guy friends as steers, eunuchs of sorts, meant to amuse and calm him until such time as he is singled out by some determined female matador. And— toro, toro— it never takes too long.

Taurus's first sexual encounter will typically be with a much older woman. With her, he'll playa sort of soft-core gigolo role, perhaps throwing his youth in her face, indulging in immature antics. In short, he might carry on like a seven-to-fourteen-year-old with an all-too-lenient mommy. With such a partner, he feels a built-in freedom whereby he won't be expected to take the relationship too seriously. Nor will he have to exert much energy in the bedroom, letting the more seasoned woman take on the obligation of driving the sexual action. He wants proof of a woman's desire, and characters who give off a whiff of desperation often provide it more vividly than those who don't. What the woman won't realize, however, is that the Taurean is getting off on this dynamic of him letting her "have her way." Of course, in entering a relationship with an older woman, Taurus man seeks to relive his childhood, but this time with a more overindulgent mother figure, as opposed to a strictly overbearing one. And chances are he'll get away with proverbial murder in the company of one so obviously thrilled to be with a young, vital stud. He may in fact treat her like crap, pushing the limits of her willingness to forgive his rowdier antics, if even subtly abusing the sexual power he wields. Nothing thrills Taurus more than a woman who professes she'll do, or take, anything to keep him as her own. Even if his initial sexual experiences are not with an older lady, that younger female, too, will take on a similarly doting, demanding (albeit drooling) demeanor. And by this point in his development, Taurus's outsized self-confidence trumpets his conviction that any female would find herself lucky to be linked with him. Like his virile Bull mascot, he is thus often accused of jumping anything that makes a move on him, even if meanwhile pining for the affections of a less "available" female. As that story goes, however, the more gourmet brand of girls out there generally demand a good deal of wooing if not outright chasing down— but our passive Bull is simply not a predatory animal.

Taurus man approaches sex in a way that would be regarded as feminine throughout nature's kingdom: He signals readiness, but to clinch the deal, he expects the opposite sex to do the prerequisite pouncing. Nine times out of ten, Taurus is seemingly seduced into sex; eight of those nine times, the supposed seduction is puppeteered by the Taurean master himself. It's automatic for him— not so much a matter of cunning— he simply finds it less work, and for this "dreamtime" inhabitant, the whole of life should be one big easy. He's not about to waste precious time and energy making a play for a woman when he might very well find himself shot down in the end. And so, he provides himself the luxury of rarely (read: never) being dumped or otherwise failing in relationships. As one might imagine, someone who doesn't (let himself) experience failure has no pesky compounded failure feelings with which to contend. This is the key to Taurus's brand of unselfconscious confidence and natural esprit de corps. Still, the question remains, what kind of women does the Taurus attract if he's not actively pursuing those he might otherwise objectively fancy?

Certain women will regard Taurus, for all his hanging back, as the proverbial strong, silent type. Still others might be suckered into believing he's shy. He often appeals as a "cute but clueless" character over whom women shrug their shoulders, roll their eyes, and pout out something akin to "What would he do without me?" And that's exactly the reaction Taurus hopes to inspire— after all, he not only avoids taking an active role getting into a relationship, he also counts on retaining that hands-off involvement once it's up and running. Still, some women will blatantly get off on the pure idea of seducing him. Meanwhile, the single Taurus often has several women, simultaneously, in each category. In all given scenarios, one thing is certain: The zodiac's male love-object lives in the reflective heat of others' desires for him. The Taurean sheikh is nothing, after all, without his worshipful wives and concubines. More than any other guy, he has the ability, and indeed the luxury, to inspire a female cult following, a symptom of his magnetic fixed-sign standing, which goes hand in hand with his archetypal status as the fertility idol incarnate. In fact, many a domineering female looks at Taurus and simply sees a hot stud engineered for producing pleasure if not providing some quality sperm. Bull guy's marriages— and there are typically more than one— often begin with a bun already in the oven. As the Minotaur myth suggests, an obsessive desire for idolization is no cinch to satisfy, requiring ever more human sacrifices to his lust for worship. Even when in a relationship, Taurus is hard-pressed to pass on any seductress who might throw herself at him. In playing the field, Taurus rarely lets his lust for even his most coveted acquisitions show— he is a coolheaded collector of such priceless pieces, in this case, of ass. Obvious investment, emotional or otherwise, would run contrary to the signature detachment for which he is worshipped. There is, however, a possible paradoxical pitfall here: that he, the zodiac's premier fancier, is nonetheless always placing himself up for auction, available to the most fervent aspirant for his affection and sexual favor.

Rarely a risk-taker, Taurus requires a "sure thing," someone who'll demonstrate, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she is indeed pitching for him harder than any other bidders on the block. The other shoe falling, however, is that the most ardent woman for his affections will prevail, and often despite how much or little sentiment Taurus may actually feel for her. He submits to the woman who shares his most torrid passion— himself— blind to other considerations. This often makes those close to the Bull wonder at his judgment in choosing partners, leading to the age-old "Is he really going out with her?" line of questioning. Yet, to be fair, what most of us fail to realize is that Taurus prizes tenacity in a person— such a trait signifies caretaking stability and grounded focus, which, for this fixed-earth sign, is of prime importance. Moreover, Taurus may sense assets in a partner that aren't readily apparent to others' naked eyes. To his credit, he generally values personality and intelligence above looks. He's often insecure about his own brainpower, such that obviously superior smarts in a partner easily eclipse an emphasis on beauty or any blatant lack thereof. The sign's association with the 2nd House, that of content rather than form, astrologically programs him to see beneath the surface— in fact, this is one of his best qualities. At his core, Taurus is looking for security and guidance— he doesn't endeavor to steer the love boat but rather luxuriate in all that's being afforded him on board. This slice of beefcake is totally submissive, and moreover, he likes it that way. When alone with a woman, he's incredibly cuddly and cooing, needing constant coddling and physical signs of reassurance. Sexually, too, he's not at all what he appears.

Taurus has little inkling that he often appeals to women on a strictly sexual basis. Likewise, he's usually in the dark as to what is expected of him in bed. And so he goes on strutting his stuff, unaware he's a big tease, sending out a nearly palpable magnetism that is in no small way attributed to his own pent-up sexual energy begging for release. Laying so much responsibility for hookups in a lady's lap, Taurus can sometimes spend a lot of time in the sexual bull pen— like the Minotaur, trapped in his own complex of desire without any easy escape. This sexual confinement manifests physically as well, as the Bull arguably suffers from blue balls more severely than most. Typically, Taurus is disinterested in masturbation— a predisposition not based on moral principle, as is often the case for the vigilant, ascetic Aries, but stemming from the Taurean inability to objectify his thoughts and even conjure up the appropriate images without his signature obscure and random notions pressing their way into his mind's eye. Moreover, what gets him off most is seeing a partner getting off on him. Even in this most intimate of circumstances, he isn't able to view experience directly, but rather needs to glimpse it through another's eyes. This may explain why Taurus can be indiscriminate as to whom he jumps into bed with. Women who might not seem "up to snuff" at face value are indeed those whom Taurus may find the most adamantly appreciative in the sack. Being mismatched with an expectant beauty, the Bull will instead often exploit any truth there is to the argument that girls who, let's just say, couldn't capture the cover of Vogue simply work harder in the sack. And in this guy whose namesake zodiacal animal has to be provoked into action by overt gesturing, we glean new meaning from the concept of "screwing anything that moves." As the male love-object he will, in fact, only ever become a fraction as excited as his lover, who might really have to chew the scenery to elicit even the most meager response. Indeed, left to his own devices, Taurus is pretty placid in bed. In some instances, a partner will have a hard time telling whether he's even enjoying himself, so imperceptible are his reactions; he may just lie there letting himself be done. This is often a symptom, however, of becoming lost in sensual stimulation, as the less he moves about, the more he may be open to mounting excitement. For if there's one guy who can breathe into such feelings of arousal, letting them wash over him and build to extraordinary levels as would drive most men to thrashing about, it's the Taurus. At the point where most guys would be climaxing, the Taurean is just beginning his slow rise to the heights of 2nd House sensation. Meanwhile, like Chauncey Gardner, he "likes to watch" a woman using him as a boy blowup doll, relishing seeing lust for him burning in a take-charge partner's eyes. For other people, eyes might be the mirror to the soul, but for the zodiac's Narcissus, they are mirrors reflecting back on himself. And if his lover is looking for a slow and easy session, all will be right with the world— but here's where those who've misjudged him as a sexual dynamo get off, or don't, as the case may be.

Sensing his infamous aura of sexual power, a woman may only naturally assume she's in for a right pounding, something, however, Taurus is not generally disposed to deliver. Indeed, the burning desire that the Bull inspires in a woman, and even the gasp of anticipation at the generally generous size of his apparatus, creates far more buildup than any payoff can equal. Taurus male's legendary sexual magnificence exists, it would seem, mainly in the imagination of those who've yet to bed him. Not to say Taurus guy is a lousy lay— au contraire— it's just that sex with him can be like seeing a movie you've heard too many raves about— it can't but fall short of blockbuster expectations. Much of what he's after has already been satisfied by the time sex itself occurs anyway— that being, the ego boost he gets from a woman wanting him so badly she practically lassos him into bed. Besides, the blissfully ignorant Bull might himself buy so far into the preproduction hype promoting his abilities that even he doesn't realize if and when he's failed to deliver "at the box." Rarely the premature ejaculator that Aries can be, Taurus has the opposite problem, if any— he loses his erection easier than most males on the wheel. It's not a matter of impotence, per se, but simply a testament to how high a stimulation threshold is necessary to make all his systems go. Still, our subjective, insouciant fellow feels the beefiness of his wiener, or lack thereof, is a barometer for how titillatingly talented his lover is, and not a matter of blame or shame on his part. Meanwhile, he barely entertains such lines of thinking, happy to linger in the wings between sexual acts, bodies entwined, lost in that infamous dreamtime, simply enjoying the kind of intimate exchange many women are often complaining men don't engage in enough.

It is key to remember that Taurus man is steeped in the feminine experience. He seeks tenderness, and he longs for patient understanding in the bedroom. He feels, perhaps subconsciously, that he suffers from a sort of sexism: that he's not allowed to want what many women desire from sex— a loving, sensitive experience— but rather that he's expected to perform like some professional stud. (In truth, doing just that is often a pure sexual fantasy for Taurus, something he may act upon of his own accord in a stealthier mood, but it's not a role he wants to play out in a light-of-day steady relationship, and certainly not when he feels under obligation to do so.) In any case, Taurus rarely embodies the big bang; and if he is able to find his way past the leering lady lechers to a woman who'll let him be his typically tranquil ol' Ferdinand self, and indeed love him for it, all is as it should be. In truth, Taurus is a slow, meditative lover who, when allowed to be his lolling best, is uncommonly capable of sustaining marathon sex sessions. The zodiac's male darling, he will let himself be actively adored for hours, just as he'll roll around letting slip certain bits of him— fingers, tongue, phallus— into any place warm and welcoming. As befits his idol status, he loves to taunt and tease his lover, increasing her literal devotion, if not her outright desperation, for his body; offering her only subtle and brief stimulation as will drive her into action, seeing her beg and indeed grab for what she wants from him. Astrology's eternal nubile boy, one might suspect from his complete lack of sexual cunning that he hasn't had much experience; but of course this is the Bull's de rigueur ruse, the mental maze he subconsciously draws a partner into while he waits and watches her very human self-sacrifice, seeing what demure decorum she typically embodies being forfeited for the flesh-hungry abandon of a quean. Though sweeping, Taurus's game-playing begins and ends here, as, again, he in no way consciously messes with a woman's mind. The eternal adolescent, he has no rational agenda, but is the eternal Adonis asking to be deflowered. Even his orgasm comes upon him as if by surprise, like one— what's this?— experiencing it for the first time. Fittingly, the color associated with Taurus is green.

Taurus doesn't possess much in the way of a psychological relationship to sex. He is a sensualist not an eroticist, and he doesn't go in for elaborate scenes or fantasies. Group sex, especially, is too impersonal and thus a major turnoff to him; unless, of course, it's an intimate ménage à trois with two women going at it to please him sensually. Full-on lesbian scenes, a boon for many men, are especially tantalizing to the Taurean male: Being so nearly fetishistic about all things feminine, the mere idea of two similarly inclined, succulent girls expressing mutual delight in his presence provides almost more tingle than he can take. Besides which, he actually feels so at home and at ease with women— particularly in such a scenario where he's not saddled with sole responsibility for providing sexual ecstasy— that he is able to relax and share in their pleasure, fine with not being the main focus. But his fetish doesn't always stop there: For one, he may have a big-girl fantasy, more likely to be turned on by "fat chicks" than any other male sign, reveling in being overwhelmed by a woman of de Kooning proportions. Moreover, it must be said that Taurean males are the preeminent cross-dressers of the zodiac. Without elaborating on the mythological implications of donning "goddess raiment," squeezing into a pair of panties awakens a desired sexual thrill in the Taurean, which just so happens to have unmistakable archetypal implications. And it's something that he's totally unashamed of— just ask any Taurus male, he'll tell you, particularly as it has little or nothing to do with sexual preference or identity. Taurus loves women— even the straightest Bull could get stuck on the Oxygen network while flipping through channels. But his being so naturally empathetic to females does have distinct disadvantages for Taurus's partner. He may all too easily fall into extracurricular sexual relationships— not out of maliciousness, or wile, but almost out of sheer laziness with relationship "rules." Typically, if he does play around with another woman, she'll be a neighbor or work colleague— someone right in the Bull's face— who is, often, also in an existing relationship. Even single Taureans are known to hook up with a lady who's "taken"— as if he expects to slip right in without expending the effort of building something new. In fact, many women who settle down with a Taurus do so fresh from another long-term relationship, one in which she was still ensnared when she met the Bull guy. As the zodiac's premier collector of admirers, one could say Taurus has a special interest in "ready-mades." Still, the best part of waking up with a Taurus male in your bed is that, being female-centric, he naturally understands what a woman wants. Given time and patience, he'll eventually get around to doing everything one could ever hope to have done. Taurus man is a clitoral connoisseur whose tongue tends to be as lovingly long as a certain other sizable part of his anatomy. His oral fixation on the mons veneris is proof that this boy is Venus's original lover: Indeed, Taurus elevates eating-out to a rite of worship. Of course, he'll expect reciprocation; but the length of time it can take him to climax, not to mention the often mighty length and girth of his member itself, can make returning the favor a tiresome prospect.

Sometimes, it's a man's job. And if any male sign would sign up to receive a bit of no-strings service from another guy, it would be our easygoing Taurean, who is as suggestible as the age group associated with his sign, regardless of how he sexually identifies himself. Given Taurus's swirl of masculine and feminine energies, most Bull boys tend to be rather bisexual by nature instead of polarized, one way or another, gay or straight. Few straight Taureans haven't had it off with a guy at some point in their life, just as many a gay Bull could see himself falling for a woman at one time or another, making strong emotional connections with the opposite sex. There are exceptions, and they are striking ones: Certain Taurus gay boys are so palpably effeminate they seem to be male only in the strictest biological sense. Just as cross-dressing is commonplace among straight Taureans, gender-bending is also common among gay men of the sign, as well as cases of sexual reassignment. Venus working her magic on the physical earth plane can have some very real and tangible effects. When simply identifying as gay, not as a woman— and it's important to note here that many straight Taureans do identify as women and end up lesbian transsexuals; this can be true of any sign, but Taurus more so than others— the Bull guy will tend somehow to be less at the mercy of a need for worship as a love object than is his heterosexual counterpart. Perhaps because overt sexuality is already such a striking keynote to gay life, and the gay Bull is generally pretty well sated by the ardor he's wont to inspire, he thus wears a need for deeper affection instead of blanket attention more openly on his sleeve. Straight Taurus may field a steady stream of pitches for his sexual favor, but gay Taurus contends with even more approaches. What the gay Bull feels is lacking in his life is finer focus on such Taurean concerns as emotional attachment, and the stability that long-term relationships can bring. Gay life, by its nature, tends to involve more sex for sex's sake, something that makes this male native of the 2nd House seek the solace of creature comforts all the more.

The gay Taurean male, having been bombarded with so many requests for his sexual favor, is eventually forced into a stricter discernment, concentrating his attention on the less superficial attributes of a potential lover. He generally wants a mate with whom he can share a sensually fulfilling lifestyle— one that would include a quality home, filled with beautiful furnishings, regular luxury vacationing, preferably with the same comfy circle of friends. He is definitely not one for the bar scene, and the bulk of his friendships may actually be with straight women. Yet, unlike other gay men who also bond better with female friends, Taurus doesn't playa wifey role in his own relationship. In fact, he tends to take on a more stereotypically husbandlike or fatherly position in partnerships, perhaps living out some image of the perfect male parental figure that was lacking in his own upbringing. He's a real nurturer and enjoys imparting advice to an often younger, less experienced lover. Sometimes this parental dynamic takes a different twist, with Taurus falling in love with the boyfriend or husband of a close female friend— or with the couple itself. In such a case, he may be projecting his own arrested need for happy parents onto the beloved pair.

posted June 24, 2013 04:27 AM            

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MsPrism: Awe, it's great to get the first post for the men! Welcome welcome!

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posted June 24, 2013 05:25 AM            

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Originally posted by somethingexcellent:
What's the wink for? Also, thank you a hundred times...you wouldn't happen to be typing this out by hand are you?

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The wink is my genuine appreciation for your entrance into this thread!

I was allowed a certain amount of copying but now I've reached the limit so I'm typing them out.

Make sure you keep me posted about your thoughts on the Taurus Male info, pretty please!

posted June 24, 2013 05:43 AM            

I don't know if anyone requested Scorpio, I imagine so, but I know you didn't post it because I read through all of those. GOOD stuff! Might actually tempt me into buying the book.

I am patiently waiting for the Scorpio female description. I have Scorpio MC with Jup and Uranus there, Pluto is in Libra conj Saturn. I've read the Sag and Aqua bits, but they don't quite capture my essence, lol, even with the Hera comparison. ^_^ Capricorn seems, so far, most accurate, that's my rising.

posted June 24, 2013 05:59 AM              

You can check that for me? He's young so I'm worried about him..
Oh & please don't type out everything BTW.
Thats just too much for you to do!
Maybe some main points would be more than enough.
Thank youu!

posted June 24, 2013 06:21 AM            

quote:

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Originally posted by virgolotus:
29* degrees Leo MC
sextile Gemini Mars
trine Sag NN
loosely conj Virgo Mercury
square Scorpio Pluto and Asc

Sun, Jupiter, and Mercury in my 10th in Virgo.
~ ~ ~

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For virgolotus:

Oooh, you're another difficult one! Well with Sun, Jupiter and Mercury in your 10th, you might be a mishmash so give a read to the Sagittarius female I've already put up and I'll now type out Leo Female for your Sun in the 10th. Tell me if one or both or neither fit, please!! I'll be putting Gemini Female up soon!

Sex+Sexuality for Leo Female:

Leo woman is drawn to men with ardent natures, those who appear to wear their heart on their sleeve and will commune with the Leo on this particular level where she lives. This simple fact goes a long way to explain why it is Leo women are so notorious for falling head over clicking ruby heels in love with Latin, Mediterranean, Caribbean, and other mother-loving emotionally fueled cultures prone to fervent displays. Leo is a native of the month of August - her world is meant to fell, metaphorically, tropical. And when it comes to men, she can be as corny as Dorothy's Kansas in that same month. Faced with a fellow she fancies, the typically fierce Leo turns into something of a goofball. (It's charming, really.) Not adept at disguising her feelings, she practically "goes into heat" around such fervent, darkly dashing types - bit, blond Nordic dudes leave her cold - while she often "lightens up" her own look so as to seem like the Sun itself to these hotties she hungers for. Guys of such swarthiness have more than a purely physical appeal: They embody passion to the Leo woman's mind; and men so seemingly ruled by their hearts are those the Lioness seeks to capture. She tends to make her feelings known in a blatantly obvious something even screwball manner, so there's no guesswork required of a man Leo fancies. Unlike men of the sign, Leo woman rarely stands on ceremony when it comes to bestowing her affections. She's far more viscerally passionate than ideologically romantic, practically purring in the direction of a lust object, drawing him in, and then ... she pounces. Leo woman is a focused predator - she zeroes in on only one man at any time, marking him, like a cat, as her exclusive territory. In total contract to her male counterpart, she's not come-hither. Rather, like her huntress-lioness archetype, she does the pursuing. Which means, for the man she craves, there's nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Like that queen on a chessboard, she has all the requisite moves - free rein to knock a man right out. Like several of those aforementioned uber-celebs who try to tackle too many modes of entertainment media at once, every Lioness must be careful not to emotionally overextend herself, and most especially in making her intense affections known. As in chess, this zodiacal queen ought to exercise circumspect economy in carrying out her bold plan to conquer a man; otherwise, she'll leave herself open to savage attacks of emotional hurt. As well, her overly audacious nature does put a portion of the male population off. The Leo is often on. Her dramatic personality is a loaded and often loud proposition to take on in partnership, the very expression that qualify her social character. Indeed, it can be a raucous court she holds. She attacks experience. The opposite of demure, the force with which she shows her feelings is matched only by her own devastation should they not be returned. The Leo lady learns this about herself early in life and so she becomes ever more strategic in her all-or-nothing approach to securing that one relationship. Her standard game plan is simple: She concedes, like any she-cat complying to a mate, appearing soft, unassuming and submissive to the man she's targeted. (At first, this docile behavior comes as a shock to her devoted posse, subjected as they are to her persistently fierce demands.) Purring and cooing, she disarms a would-be Romeo by rendering unnecessary his seductive lover-boy strategies, working her way into position until the time comes to clasp him in her claws. A master of flirtation, once she's convinced of a man's interest, she'll play cat and mouse, toying and teasing a guy unabashedly. As she expects to be entertained by those whose attentions she demands, so too does she provide entertainment to a man she desires, playing the clown or fool for a fellow's enjoyment-though never just plain old dumb.

A look at a list of famous Leo actresses illustrates their skill in this particular area: Lisa Kudrow, Loni Anderson, Rosanna Arquette, Barbara Eden, Victoria Jackson, Gracie Allen, Debra Messing, Melanie Griffith, Lucille Ball, and even Madonna (during certain incarnations) have all made a mark playing "flaky" while nonetheless holding men in the palms of their hands. (Note, too, their shared penchant for those swarthy-male sexpots - Lucy and Desi, Arlen Dahl and Fernando Lamas, Madonna and her ex Carlos, Melanie and Antonio, Lisa Kudrow and some French guy.) Indeed, it is a particularly Leoan talent to infiltrate a man's heart and disarm him by acting "kooky," both amusing and humoring him till she gets her claws in. Being funny is meant to disguise, for a time, just how fierce she is. Thinking, perhaps, that her naturally tough, ambitious self may frighten a prospective mate, Leo instinctively acts comically feeble-witted, like the school braniac who swears she'll fail tests, only to ever score A-pluses. It all comes down to the thrill of the chase, the huntress herself deigning to be pursued though unwilling to entertain any would-be hound dogs. However, to be fair, if she's on the prowl at all, it is because deep passion is present. Love is not an emotion she experiences every day, so she pulls out all the stops to guarantee she's left nothing to chance in winning her objective. If concealing her fangs requires a wee song and dance, so be it. If nothing else, she'll send her hot-blooded Valentino a clear message: At the very least, he'll get to pet the pretty ***** .

Though she's not quick to fall in love, especially not on first sight like the Geminian Juliet, Leo is certainly no saint in between times. She is an outrageous flirt with a killer's appetite for sex, yes; but sex, to the Leo, is a vividly demonstrative means of making an - if just a brief - emotional attachment. The Lioness is passionate for her prey, eye on the prize, fixed on her need to express her outsized, bubbled-up emotional aggression The "wet" cardinal-water Cancer is always on some jag, letting her gut feelings flow. But Leo guards her emotions in her mystic heart of hearths, cooking them into a heated froth. Through sex, exercise, and ambition she ultimately expresses them. A woman isn't labeled a wildcat for not letting her fierce feelings show. Likewise, Leo can handle a fairly active life of sex and dating without getting hurt as much as most, the guys she chews up and spits out included. Though getting some is high on Leo's agenda, she's always holding in her heart that most fiery fixture, hoping that this guy is the One. She is a true romantic, predicated on the belief that men with visible passion will love her more fully than what she perceives to be, often via her father's example, society's de rigueur stoical male. And so she rumbas her ruffles into run-ins with unreserved, illustrative loverboys, barnyard Romeos to whom she may feign to play Juliet, a character that couldn't be further from her true self. Gemini, a flesh-and-blood Juliet if ever there was one, sees the world, dually, in black-and-white terms, experiencing love in the same all-or-nothing way, subject to the authoritative mandates of right and wrong heaped upon her. Our Leo lady, however, is that same character who fell from a star (the Sun), a Madonnaesque ray of light crashing into the world of the "little people" in full Technicolor delight, quite dramatically, if not violently, making her presence known. This is not the kind of girl to deliver a believable balcony scene, some bird in a gilded cage - she's far too take charge for that. Her gold is the trail she blazes and our Leoan Dorothy never surrenders: Just as she typically lived outside the box of parental rule as a girl, she colors beyond the lines in her adult life, rarely restraining herself in her expression, the many-breasted Artemis having an overage of metaphorical mouths to feed. Take it any way you like, but the point is, she hungers. And she makes nary a distinction between the longing in her heart and the heat in her loins, impassioned pangs being one huge umbrella under which she operates. She's no cool femme fatale detachedly luring men to her - this is the sign of Mae West or Mata Hari in Queen of Sheba's gold-link underwear doing a hootchy-kootchy number. Such is the attention Leo seeks to draw. She is one and the same with her libidinous intentions, embodying the mutual lust she senses passing between her and a man, but nonetheless lies in wait, compelled to feign an unassuming mien as to inspire a man's ardent advances, which she'll return without hesitation. You might say, the Lioness full well puts the bush in ambush, attacking her loving assailant like Artemis letting loose her hounds (of love), tearing Actaeon to shreds for pursuing and spying on her. Likewise, the lover of a Leo is hard-pressed to survive a relationship with her intact.

Indeed it is the promise of sex, not sex itself, that Leo uses to get a man. To give her a hot-blooded beau the impression he's running the show, she'll let him carry on as his usual lothorio self. However, it is she who is stalking him, lying in wait as he approaches, performing the role of a woman who'll make no real relationship demands, hoping to not scare him off. In truth, no female mate in the zodiac is more commanding than the Leo. What she wants most in life is to love, and it's something she's wildly capable of doing. Leo rules the 5th House of love you give (as opposed to the Cancerian 4th House of love you receive), making her ability to express this grand emotion at once sweeping and profound. The rub, however, is that she looks to be loved as much in return. Fittingly she falls for those obvious types because they seem most up to the task- but it's no easy feat, and most men fall short of her often unrealistic expectations. It might take a lifetime for the Leo to realize that it must be enough that she, herself, feels such lust for life-possessing both an unparalleled zeal for living as well as a passionate commitment to people and pursuits-without expecting a man to wholly match that ability.

In truth, nobody is more devoted than Leo woman. Under the Sun's Absolute Principle, her participation on all metaphysical levels is total. Her fixed-fire status assures that she'll attach her full, feverish energy to whatever creative or loving pursuit has her attention. Such that, to be loved by a Leo woman is akin to being offered a challenge, one that demands a man express his feelings to the fullest capacity. It must be said that Leo woman may put her mate through the emotional ringer, constantly demanding ever more proof of his heartfelt interest. That is, until she learns a particularly piquant Leoan lesson in life: to back off. Far too often, she's simply been barking up the wrong tree, especially when it comes to those romantic philanderers (read: dawgs) she had fully expected to make heel. In playing the balmy bimbo, it seems she ended up with her dreaded macho equivalent: the himbo. Eventually, Leo woman discovers that she's better off easing up, both in her hunt to bag a passionate man and in her constant pursuit of validation once she's secured herself into a relationship. Unfortunately, she usually learns the hard way that love chased in earnest often remains the most elusive. That which is literally central to her, the loving Leo-ruled heart is, after all, a lonely hunter.

Artemis is the huntress precisely because she's turned her back on love and men. When similarly inclined, Leo woman devotes her feverish attention to other pursuits, namely professional success with its promise of acceptance and respect. Like Actaeon, turned into a deer by the goddess and devoured, as it were, by his own hounds, the stag who gets to see ambitious Leo naked will have to overwhelm her. Only in so doing does he prove himself worthy. In short, Leo wants a man who can keep up with her, some healthy competition. She enjoys besting, and being bested, even in bed. She thrives on high-powered men, those who generate growth in the world - makers, shakers, movers, and manufacturers - self-made men and kings of industry, chieftans worthy of her company. The Actaeon myth, after all, recounts the ritual drama of the hunt whereby the stag king is sacrificed to Artemis, called Art in Celtic tradition, her male consort son being Artio or Arthur. Leo man might be the king. But Leo woman is one to whom a king is subject. And it will take an impassioned potentate to stand up to the ever-loving ripping to shreds Leo woman is wont to prove, whether it be in the amorous display of her affections or for the slightest impropriety to her person. It takes a special kind of man to be with Leo, one who gives way to her fiercest dramas, remaining unruffled, but who will nonetheless refuse to be ***** -whipped by her. It's a combination that doesn't necessarily come around all that often, and Leo learns that for her, of all women, Mr. Rights are few and far between. She may even adopt an antimale stance. Enter self-love, and we're not just talking vibrators here. The whole of the huntress's journey through life is hinged on amour propre. And not only that - Leo will fuel her love of self with the admiration of others, sometimes on a grand scale, the lady of the Leo Sun being the zodiac's quintessential superstar. Via the 5th House, she has so much love to give, another interpretation of the many-breasted Artemis expressing for the masses. Here, too, we glimpse Leo's more humble zodiacal archetype, Hestia, whose myth holds many clues in uncovering the straight Leo's psychosexual state of being.

As goddess of the hearth (fixed-fire), the mythic heart of every home, sitting in the center of heaven tending her "eternal flame," Hestia is the symbol of solitude, self-sufficiency, and inner peace. Disinterested in the ho-hum love-and-war soap opera of the other gods, she literally tends to herself. As a living, archetype, Leo woman augments her own happiness by following suit. Indeed, Hestia's exclamation of self-love must, at some point, be adopted as the Lioness's anthem. Unlike Artemis, Hestia isn't antimale, but rather vehemently pro-self, a quality that all Leos inherently possess. And in the necessary process of converting all the energy she used chasing down affection into a mighty force of self-love - shifting from Artemis the hungry huntress to Hestia the "tender" protectress - Leo woman begins to stoke the fire of her powerful 5th House of creativity all the more. In regaining her "center" this way, she will begin to summon heretofore intangible love and attention - and those horned stages and mambo kings she craves will come, shaking their maracas, out of the woodwork. In the end, Leo tends to find the love she's looking for when she least expects it - whilst fixedly focused on her personal ambitions. In this Hestian "self-contained" mode, like the dot in the protective sphere of her symbol Sun, she poses a completely different challenge to a man, demanding whether he can break her self-protective barrier and lover her as much as she lovers herself. Meanwhile, until such a man successfully picks up the challenge and "enters in," an emotionally evolved Leo is living proof that if you love yourself, the whole world loves you back. This, it seems, is the main reason for many a Leo's dramatic popularity: Their self-love works like a captivating bait - all fixed signs are magnetic - attractive affection to them on a global scale. Interesting that the so-bad-it's-good film Dr. T & the Women - a Leo legend if ever there was one - depicts a pride of females and just one male, whose mate suffers from a "Hestia complex," a syndrome resulting from being overly loved. It's what Leo woman invites and often has to struggle with, as it brings great emotional responsibility, that which any monarch would have toward her people, if she plans to remain popular. Of course, the zodiac's queens of hearts is also capable of chewing, if not chopping, off the heads of those with whom she closely associates, just as she is the mother lion to her myriad cubs. In any case, she can inspire a sort of loving dependence upon her that poses its own set of challenges.

The difficulty in preying on people's affections is that she risks ensnaring the weak and otherwise impaired. Especially when it comes to potential mates, it can be a real problem: What she perceives as passion in a guy may indeed have been an oversensitivity or, if one reads the Actaeon myth from another angle, a self-destructive streak. If she does, however, protect herself, as Kate Bush put it, in a "circle of fire," really a sphere of self-love, only a strong-willed male counterpart can enter into her affections, not intimidated by charmed by her dramatic, diva-esque defenses. It is the echelon of devotion that she has ardently been after her whole life: That a man dared to woo her while in her Hestian "selfish" state may be proof enough of his passion, minus all those hot-blooded bells and whistles with which other men have attempted to win her. Still, it's an enormous leap of faith for a control freak like Leo to let love find her while she simply hangs back in waiting. But if she's been burned enough times trying to engineer relationships, she may one day find herself willing to let a man take the reins in driving a love bond forward. As the pursued, too, she'll take a real passive role, rather than a make-believe one - no more pretending to be some unsuspecting sex kitten. In such a case, where she isn't the covert aggressor, Leo no longer feels so "put upon," continually pressure (both in bed and out) to invigorate the passions of her man. Administering to her own ambitions, she has automatically eliminated high-maintenance men from pursuing her - male weaklings who would feel slighted, actually intimidated, by her fierce self-focus, Self-consumed, she can't help but attract a man secure enough in his masculinity to not feel threatened. He is just the emotional tough guy, richy or not, she craves, someone who'll stand up to the rigorous rough-and-tumble lifestyle and sex life she enjoys without fear of crushing his ego, never mind his very bones, to dust.

In the 5th House spirit of competition, Leo likes to battle her lover for dominance in the bedroom. Like Annie Oakley, or her fictional incarnation, at any rate, for whom every interaction was a contest at which she secretly hoped to be bested, Leo woman, to varying degrees of sub consciousness, seeks to be physically restrained or subdued in some way or another. Unlike the preceding fire sign of Aries, Leo has no special affinity for the dominant girl-on-top position. Rather, she prefers a carnal contest: some heated writhing, if not all-out wrestling, flipping, and switching, in the course of lovemaking, all the while feverishly kissing, licking, groping, and clawing her lover. Ironically, whereas a Leo man is mainly vanilla in his sexual tastes, there seems to be nothing the naughty little Lioness won't try once or twice. In truth, Leo tends to be one of the later sexual bloomers, but that in no way thwarts her heated development. She is an enthusiastic lover, and a fast learner. What she might lack in finesse, she makes up for in gusto. However, she needs to realize that it's best not to think and behave in those terms - such know-how, special skills, and fancy tricks tend to come off as rehearsed when employed by the Leo, who is designed to engage in sex, like everything, from the heart, and not with the mind. For women of the Second Quadrant, carnal knowledge of a man is a visceral experience. If anything, she should lose her head. Still it won't totally keep her from trying out some new move in the sack. She may want to one-up her lover, revealing a new erotic stunt, in the spirit of contest. Indeed, for Leo, sex should feel like play. The 5th House is that of fun and games after all. And Leo is one to go in for the extreme sort. She is astrology's original wild thing, securely under the protection of her goddess Artemis, who has a certain knack for making grown guys grovel. This is not to suggest Leo seeks a submissive male. On the contrary, she expects her man to successfully, indeed willingly, put her through her sexual paces - the more vigorous and athletic her lover the better. This explains her penchant for youthful studs in between times stalking a lifelong mate. She appreciates the wide-eyed appreciation and exuberance newbies have to offer, and she actually takes pride in adopting the role of teacher in her favorite subject, sexual education, looking for that impassioned spark in a student's eyes. Leo woman can, in fact, be fairly nymphomaniacal in her notorious robbings of the cradle. She shares the same attitude toward sex as these fellows: Junior cats don't demand any more attention than she's willing to give in the moment, satisfying her sexual hunger, while keeping her eyes open for a serious partnership. In simpler terms, they tend to be as indefatigable as she is in bed. Leo woman is all about that life-force furnace, the most striking interpretation of her fixed-fire status, and just as she learns economy in dispensing energy, so, too, does she harness her power, saving it for the ritual attention she gives her few, burning passions. Perhaps the most difficult bit of entering a full-time relationship is saying goodbye to the smorgasbord of fresh goodies the infamously famished Huntress is wont to devour. It also determines her need to find an expert lover in a mate, not one to bargain on that score. In truth, this is why she doesn't hesitate in jumping into bed with a man early in the relationship, if not on the second date. Before she invests, she needs to check out the merchandise. Glorious is the Leo woman who has an immediate inkling that love is in store only to discover the object of her burgeoning affection is sufficiently equipped. But woe is it to her if ye olde weenie isn't up to snuff. In truth, she'll turn on her heel, never allowing herself to think what might have been. For when she does get involved with a man who doesn't fully satisfy her in the bedroom, she will begin to develop a roving eye. Further down to the nitty-gritty, unlike some women, to Leo size does matter, especially when it comes to girth. She encourages a great deal of friction, more than most women can withstand before soreness overcomes them. Marathon sex is always on the menu chez Leo, indefatigable in the extreme, who would just as soon skip dinner if there's the chance of an erotic bout going into overtime. She hungers for passionate lovemaking as evidenced by her prolific squealing, moaning, and growling in bed. She's not so much verbal as she is just plain noisy. Making love is a primal act for Leo and her guttural responses - let's just say, she's a screamer - are a clear sign that she's indulging profoundly animal urges. Indeed, she approaches sex from a purely instinctual place, vividly in touch with her feelings and candidly expressing excitement. Leo has little interest in games or fantasy role-play and is decidedly turned off by guys who seem too in their head in bed. For her, nothing can replace just plain going at it, full force, with no need for titillating detours, which, to her mind, only break the natural rhythm of two bestial bodies doing the deed they were designed to do. This is not to say she has a just-get-me-there attitude. Rather, she feels both parties should enter the erotic arena with the goal of getting off not as fast, but as furiously as possible. For Leo, the best sex imaginable is an equal give-and-take: At once passionately attacking a man's body in the pursuit of her own orgasm, she willingly propels the pleasurable offensive her partner is aggressively launching. Then it's all about getting into a sustainable, though fervid, rhythm. She's rarely content to remain long in a slow, vibey mode, unless she's simply catching her breath, after popping, before gearing up for yet another climax.

posted June 24, 2013 06:34 AM            

quote:

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Originally posted by somethingexcellent:
What's the wink for? Also, thank you a hundred times...you wouldn't happen to be typing this out by hand are you?

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Thank you also Ms Prism, it's very kind of you to put this up. it was a very interesting read...

I'm a Taurus MC, Scorpio Venus Male, empty 10th house too. I wouldn't count myself as bisexual though.

posted June 24, 2013 06:45 AM            

Pluto and Saturn (both in Scorpio) in 10th house. MC is in libra

posted June 24, 2013 07:02 AM            

quote:

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Originally posted by Swift Freeze:
Thank you also Ms Prism, it's very kind of you to put this up. it was a very interesting read...

I'm a Taurus MC, Scorpio Venus Male, empty 10th house too. I wouldn't count myself as bisexual though.

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Haha you're very welcome!

Oh dear, we can't put all the tags on ourselves, we're unique enough as it is!

I thought it was quite interesting as well. Mainly, I think it's difficult to be objective and when you find something outside yourself (like a book) that gives you that objective view, you can digest a portion of who you are on a more tangible level.

It's nice to read something and go "finally, someone gets me!"

posted June 24, 2013 10:09 AM              

quote:

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Originally posted by MsPrism:
For HannieBananie:

With nothing sitting in your 10th House you're another easy request!

Sex+Sexuality for Cancer Female:

Starved for male affection, Cancer really clings to the first eligible boy who takes romantic notice of her— she's the girl with a serious steady relationship while still in high school. Still, she has her standards: In fact, she will already have edged her way into a shiny-happy social scene in which the pool of guys are rather traditionally minded, athletic, all-American male versions of herself. Even at sixteen, she's already thinking marriage. To her mind, stranger things than living happily ever after with your childhood sweetheart have been known to happen— in truth, however, they rarely occur for Cancer. Coming off the chaos of her upbringing, mired in the mayhem her mother created, the Crab is drawn to stoical males from stable, if not rigid, backgrounds. She assumes that the void left by a lack of father love is best filled with a perfect stereotypical cutout of a male; and so she often gravitates toward unemotional, insensitive, or even unattainable types, believing such qualities are linked to conventional masculinity. Indeed, all the hackneyed gender images are covered: A guy must be tall, sporty, authoritative, and stoical. Thus, she is drawn to males from cultural backgrounds that emphasize male domination if not a hint of the Fatherland— Aryan (and often Aries, the zodiac's own militant macho man) as well as Anglo and Scandinavian types whose rearing is disciplined, impassive, and stiff-upper-lipped.

As is often the case for the Cancerian Cinderella, she tends to come from a broken home, or from the proverbial wrong side of the tracks. Hence, this put-upon maid seeks to social climb— not necessarily to great heights, but just high enough to rise above what she, at least, perceives as the drudgery of her lowly station, arriving at that comfortable middle class. Likewise, if the Cancer is born into a life of privilege, she tends to ditch the silver spoon in favor of a more democratic existence— the affluent Cancer girl goes the extra mile to appear all grassrootsy, typically styling herself in hippy-dippy fashions. Like Cinderella, Cancer simply wants her due— some human dignity— it's not as if she longs to be a bonbon eater like her (step) mother may have been. One imagines that Cindy would have been most kind to her servants in the castle, forgoing any caste systems already in place, becoming the proverbial "people's princess" like that real-life, iconic Cancerian royal who tragically fell victim to the inordinate chaos of her existence. Princess Diana's Cancerian nature was, in fact, all too vividly drawn in the collective conscious, her on-the-verge-of-tears expressions indelibly etched in media memory. Her emotional life was, arguably, in conflict with the inherent stoicism of such a romantic bond as she made. Not able to fit into the stiff-upper-lip ideal of such an existence, her feelings overflowed the ages-old confines of the royal arrangements, and she indeed re-created the image of the monarchy, repairing the us-and-them quality, as did Cinderella, inherent to aristocratic societies. Feeling like the low woman on the totem pole, young Cancer does a bit of pulling herself up by the bootstraps, not letting her background stand in the way of mixing and mingling with the beautiful courtiers in her school courtyard. To be sure, she wants a strapping prince, a scion of suburbia who literally stands head and shoulders above the rest. But she's not like the self-assured Taurus, who is blissfully unself-conscious of her own desires, simply attracting attention with her self-obsessed feminine wiles. No: Cancer is a floodgate of churning yearnings. She is utterly needful of expressing her loving emotion to a man. She doesn't simply aim to please, like the Bull she is desperate to do so, pulling out all stops to shower affection on the male who gut-wrenchingly inspires her love. Cancer doesn't have casual crushes. She swoons, cries, and pines for love and the want of its being returned.

Poor, poor, pitiful Cancer: So dire are her sentiments that she expresses them blatantly, shooting the moon in making her exaggerated feelings known. She's like Marianne in Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility, all the former and none of the latter, and thus ripe to be picked as doormat of the year. In a nod to her water-cardinality, Cancer rushes like a river into things without much circumspection. Sex may be the most startling means for Cancer's self-expression, a vehicle for declaring a deep-seated need for the unconditional love she's after. Ironically, such profound sexuality may prevent her from attaining affection, as "giving it away" can become something of a negative pattern. Of course, to the untrained eye of a teenage boy, it simply seems "she's gotta have it." For more than any other girl, sex for the Cancer is too easily confused with love. She pours her heart out to boys who are willing to entertain her need for affection in return for a little nooky. And it's a deal Cancer girl is willing to strike: This maid whose sign is archetypally steeped in mating needs contact far more than she needs the protection of her so-called virtue. Sex, she believes, is a means to emotional repair.

It is Cancer's gut instinct to look for a savior in a mate. But she isn't the damsel in distress she perceives herself to be; rather, our moony Cinderella must take responsibility for her own survival. The hero she requires is more the sacrificial sort. In Egyptian mythology, Osiris was the savior-god wedded to Isis, who swallowed him up and then gave birth to him as her son, Horus— talk about your Mother Principle at work. Indeed, Osiris was known as "he who impregnates his mother," more apt for Cancer man, but the point is well taken here: Cancer woman doesn't require a man who'll come to her emotional rescue, but one who'll sacrifice himself to the watery rush of her emotions, willing to be swallowed into her delightful vortex. Osiris, as the story goes, was yearly torn to pieces and reassembled by Isis, all but for his "lost" penis, which she then replaced with a fake one made out of clay. (Right, cheers, thanks a lot.)

The metaphorical significance is that, being the consort of the zodiac's own Isis does require a bit of ritual castration: The male can't impose any patriarchal dominance, but rather must take a second-sex role in the relationship, subject to Cancer's authoritative whim. Cinderella isn't swept off her feet; she wows the prince, who then spends his life metaphorically groveling at hers— the significance of his kneeling at her piggies, putting on that glass slipper, a symbol of the uterine entrance, the "crystal cave," where male initiates entered the world womb at Delphi. Trouble is, these aren't the guys Cancer generally goes for early in life. Instead, she often confuses a man's steady outright inability to love, a horrid stoicism, with the loving anchor she truly needs. She is perpetually being drawn to such loveless creeps, domineering guys whose tyranny she misreads as loving attention. Such a character will not make a suitable consort to the Cancerian princess. She needs a true equal partner, a prince among men, not some tyrannical king who'll expect her to do his bidding. In the matriarchal mind, kings are to be sacrificed. Such an autocrat won't be able to take the brunt of her increasingly surfacing emotions. Ironically, it is those overbearing men onto whom she'll eventually unleash the overage of her pain and anger, castrating these callous cads in any case. Going against the flow of Cancerian emotion, these dictatorial dudes drown, while the more charming, compliant fellows will be carried along on the current of her outpouring love. Meanwhile, even the imperious boyfriend she couples with will forgive any volatility he may suffer at her hands; that is, while she's using them, as well as other parts of her anatomy, to pleasure him. He will, for a while, delude himself into thinking that his putting up with emotional tantrums only leads to Cancer's making up in bed for the commotion she causes.

In truth, Cancer woman does have a voracious sexual appetite that is no cinch to satisfy. Even when she's on the giving end, which is her usual, and indeed her favored, place to be— blowing her mate or doing all the major maneuvering, even in a submissive position— her lover should realize that he's being engulfed for her pleasure, not his. It's probably what made those bootleg Pamela Anderson videos so enthralling— Cancer woman is a most willing recipient of anything being dished out. Indeed, it may seem as if no job is too big for the Crab girl. For when it comes to sex, she doesn't take her "I feel" motto lightly. Cancer wants to experience erotic sensation as acutely as possible, requiring a deep rogering for a reasonable duration, though she'll expect it to be done with enthusiasm and gusto. She isn't into rough poundings. Rather the rhythm should be long and deep. Similarly, going down on a guy is never the chore it can be for many women; in fact, one would think the Cancer girl had an unhingeable jaw, as she really hunkers down on her hunk, moaning all the while in ecstatic delight. And praise be to Isis, she really does swallow her lover whole. After all, the Moon rules both saliva and vaginal lubrication, facilitators of her desired profound penetration.

But there's another meaning to this cardinal-water sign being "wet," i.e., overly sentimental, doting, and mothering toward men. Probably nothing leads to the Cancerian's being walked all over by guys more than the sickeningly gooey manner in which she relates to a man. She might be a total ***** to other women and dismissive of men who don't make her stomach flip, but toward a guy she has feelings for, the young Crab especially will act the wide-eyed, baby-talking, overly adoring, and indulgent worshiper. It is one exaggerated symptom of the Mother Principle channeling through her— a predilection that could easily make onlookers loose their lunch. She'll fawn and fondle her partner, always having to touch or kiss or cling in some coy manner. Indeed, it is often a put on as it runs counter to what her true nature would dictate; such desperate shows, she thinks, will strengthen her bond. In time, all that constant doting will begin to take its toll— what was originally meant as a means for puffing up her man will only become a glaring symptom to him of a ridiculous dependence. In time, it will even strike her man as phony, as, increasingly, in private, she will express her inevitable anger at playing the submissive in public, using her partner as a veritable piñata for venting these bottled-up feelings (not to mention the full line of baggage filled with her childhood scars).

Even hitting the sheets, which has always been the salve and the glue that keeps her and a lover together, doesn't quite do the trick anymore. Cancer woman is predisposed to sexual addiction as she might use "the act" to anesthetize her feelings, often causing her to seek out more elaborate and edgier erotic scenarios to achieve that click of oblivion she seeks. Along the way, urging a lover to go "faster, deeper, harder" may eventually see him heading for the door in search of a less psychological sexual relationship. Indeed, nobody uses sex to fill the emotional void as much as she. Cancer vies with Virgo for the proverbial title of woman who loves too much, and yet giving is the true nature of the zodiac's very own source. As with most experiences chez Madame Crab, her sex life and especially the nitty-gritty activities therein, might seem a maelstrom to the more staid observer, but any suspected chaos isn't generally the problem, but rather part of the solution (double entendre intended, as even etymology makes this link between the liquid and the "answer"). It's all math to the Cancer, anyway, as she metaphorically solves her problems two-by-two, throwing herself into a very literal mating game, without the slightest guilt at doing so, and not exclusively for the quick, dirty reason that it feels good; the fact is, no other act is more natural to the Cancer in that it provides a profound release and a channel for her dammed emotions. Remember, she is the very embodiment of gut feelings, so what might be considered emotionally overwhelming to the rest of us is generally absorbed by Cancer, unfazed. A creature of the deep, the Crab is uniquely equipped, of all women, to safely negotiate sexual waters that most might alternately consider profound or abyssmal, complete with a cymbal-crashing nod to being a crustaceous bottom feeder. But never fear: the ark of the lifelong covenant Cancer makes with herself is salvation. And survival, as she knows it, depends first and foremost on dependence, which most often takes the literal form of sexual union, so graphically illustrated by the flood-myth, replete, as it is, with its mass copulation "at sea."

Accusations that Cancer looks to lovers and lovemaking for emotional rescue are typically true, but what most people don't realize is that she doesn't do so in vain. Meanwhile, the Crab is equipped to weather the flood of any ensuing consequence, forever able to sally away, leaving behind (never amassing more) emotional Samsonite. Whereas the precocious Gemini female tends to flirt with overwhelming sexual experience and often falls in the face of invoked disaster, Cancer, the personification of deluvian experience is, hence, born into damage, often both real and metaphoric, spending her book of days drifting toward repair. All is entropy for Gemini, while despair is a default starting line for astrology's Cinderella. Life, in Cancer's estimation, has always been a broken proposition, the home she's brought up in smacking of that quality, in one way or another. Just as the concept of water breaking describes both shattered levees and the liberated rush of embryonic fluid, any past dilapidation ushers in a deluge of emotional relief, release, and rebirth. Cancer pours her guts out via experience. Sex, specifically, will be no placid affair, indeed it can be torrid, torrential. However, the moral of any flood myth is that life goes on, and such is the psychological modus Cancer holds firmly in her mind. She is forever parlaying all the baggage from the 4th House storage of the home one comes from into furnishing the home one establishes. And every day brings new hope and promise despite her signature moping and whining. She may wallow in the deepest of sentimental and indeed sexual mires, often ending up labeled a mess as a result, but every melancholy state will be a means of mourning and attaining deliverance from enduring sadness. Cancer doesn't skirt over "issues;" rather, she employs her sign's motto and feels their full import— she embraces her feelings, finds closure and moves on. To be fair, it must be a drag having to constantly do this— she doesn't want to be a wet blanket— still, it's the Cancer who isn't "dealing," the one pretending life is a party, wearing that lampshade crown, who should cause the real concern. For most Crab women, life is about securing emotional dry land. And sex plays a huge part in Cancer's feeling her way toward such providence.

In the process, Cancer provides herself, and indeed a partner, an abundance of erotic experience to choose from. Ironically, she is at once the most experimental and the pickiest of female signs— that is, there's nothing she won't try once, thrice, or more times in this process of defining, for all time, what suits her sexual self. Kudos to the fellow who finds himself in the throes of Cancer rummaging the depths of carnal knowledge— he might easily assume he's hit the motherload. Which, of course, he has. She approaches every act as a new beginning, and even if with a mate for a million years, she'd still seek to stir something fresh into the sexual mix. Anyone of the eyebrow raising activities mentioned in this book might find their way onto Cancer woman's sexual menu at one point or another. The barometer for what this tempestuous character enjoys is that infamous connection to her feelings, something she never loses, even in the midst of a so-called sexual debauch. She could be drenched by some cardinal flow or another and still smile up at her partner with an expression of purest affection. She is no victim, even when consenting to activities of the most submissive kind, those many might well consider sexually degradating. If such proclivities pass the checkpoint of her gut instincts, so be it— they will be waved on through, inspiring little cause for Cancerian unrest. She not only leans, but learns on her lovers. With every sexual interlude, the Crab gleans a little bit more about herself, growing via these experiences into a solid pearl of womanly wisdom in the form of which she can offer her hand some day, when that prince will inevitably come. She isn't just sexually messing around, but readying herself, building that ark, both as a promise and a throughline for her inter-dependent future with a mate. Although this mechanism might be years in development vis a vis her lovelife (having more than her fair share of fun in the process), Cancer will exhibit this same sort of MO in less touchingly personal sectors, namely career and her social existence.

Anticipation, as braless Crab lady Carly Simon once crooned, is Cancer's watchword. Defined as "confident expectation" we herein see her Cinderella-like modus of not merely wishing for but manifesting her dreams. Generally entering the job force early in life, often working her way through school, she finds a financial rock to stand on as well as an atmosphere of order in the workplace that provides grounding against any upheaval at home. A cardinal sign of the first order, Cancer is rarely content to be low lady on the totem pole and, from her first day on the job, she will begin anticipating her own advancement. Other women, especially, sense she's forever cooking up some scheme for success. Indeed, in so doing, she makes quantum leaps on the careerfront. But anticipation too often turns to precipitation; that is, hasty, indiscreet or even reckless moves geared toward her own promotion. Of course, that term has its watery connotations as well, while all of Cancer's secret plans mirror the pattern of a slow pregnancy followed by a sudden delivery. The Crab seemingly rushes into the status of boss, or often becomes her own, under the turned-up and out-of-joint noses of stymied colleagues. To them, she simply doesn't play fair: She may use associates as stepping stones, blurring the lines between professional and personal involvments, specifically with men who'll make up the bulk of her supporters. (Indeed, Cancer may often be killing two birds with one stone, advancing her carnal wisdom while furthering her own career aims with the same individual.) Mutual back-washing is de rigueur, as Cancer, in signature style, pulls out all stops to get what she wants. In the face of the flood, there are always casualties. And when it comes to her own fullfillment, Cancer takes an all-others-be-damned attitude, particularly sandbagging fellow women. She may have few female friends as it is, and she certainly won't make many in the workplace, perpetuating that wicked stepsister disconnect with her own sex. What girlfriends she does have will be unapologetic types like herself with whom she may get up to "no good," forming little covens of like-minded, sexually liberated ladies with whom to compare mathematical notes on length, width, and volume of men *** notches on their bedposts or to commiserate over the many complaints of the female condition. She can juggle more than one guy at a time, still clinging fast to her ideal of marriage; continuing to pursue those clean-cut Clark Kents whom she'll put through their sexual paces while keeping them in the dark about her murkier exploits. She may even keep a stud or two on a string whom she'll use purely as sex tools, "liking 'em dumb" because it's easier to do so. Otherwise, she might rock in the opposite direction, hooking up with a hardcore swinger who's looking for a woman willing to explore the depths of sexual experience. Often, that would be her.

Cancer woman unconsciously embodies the sexual freedom of matriarchal societies, those pagan females persecuted as witches by the patriarchal church for all their bawdy, medieval bra-burning. For Cancer, there is no guilt in indulging in even the raunchiest scenarios so long as they don't conflict with her gut. Only a Cancer female can describe, in mixed company, a night spent with a lover and a double-sided dildo without a sniff of shame or irony. Indeed, Cancer is conducting what even modern-day wiccan would call a wee bit of sex magic each and every time she hits the sheets. She is so completely involved in the act and, naturally attuning herself to the experience, never letting it consume her, she harnesses the transformative power of the proceedings, forever conjuring from it what she needs as emotional sustenance. There's power in that: Often literally riding the waves of such experience, she releases angst and feels optimistically refreshed in her future outlook— getting her ya-ya's out, for all sisterhood (despite her many detractors) as well as herself What's more, leaving no stone of her sexual self unturned— here's where the magic comes in— she eventually conjures up the exact kind of guy for whom she'd pack in her past experience and settle down, just as Pyrrha and Deucalian tossed those rocks over their shoulders, re-peopling the planet, two-by-two. Feeling out every dark corner of her sexuality, and calculating her likes and dislikes, Cancer woman develops a very distinct sense of self on this score. Her 4th House ruled intentions are ever clear. And as any witch will tell you, intention brings about desired results and, sure enough, that desired Prince will trot on up, grateful, and not at all judgmental of Cancer, despite she herself being so infamously hot to trot. The Cinderella myth, in fact, is all about sex magic. That consummate worker of wishcraft leaving her glass slipper, a symbol of the uterine entrance, in the hands of Mr. Charming himself. And finally we hit the mother lode of Cancerian paradox: like Cindy, Cancer only loses her footing when confronted with this man of her dreams, the one she's been dredging up her whole life. Inevitably, he is a fellow who'll fall somewhere between the extremes of past sexual "pacifiers"— any dummy she's meanwhile sucked upon— and the sexual "provocateurs" who have enjoyed, if not sought to outright exploit, her erotic unabashedness. Her perfect prince won't himself be a sexual player, neither will he be condemning toward those who may've been one. No, the reason she loses her footing is because, in the midst and mire of Cancer's tumultuous life, she doesn't fully factor into her equation encountering that other four-letter word, love. When it hits, the challenging bit of Cancerian life is called into question, namely, the day-to-day living with a male-partner, not just doing the deed and being done. For once (and ever after), Cancer finds herself emotionally out of her depth, and she'll spend the rest of her lifetime happily struggling to honor that paragon of sentiments. In the bat of an eye, she will leave her wild ways behind. Her critics, of course, will suspiciously balk and indeed damn her happiness in light of what sexcapades she might have previously gotten up to. Meanwhile she will be as blessedly blissful as can be, looking behind her without a single regret and certainly without any unrequited erotic longing. As with everything that outgrows its usefulness, Cancer will make jetsam of her past so-called wicked ways. Despite the fact she will have kissed an overage of frogs, indeed due to it, she faces the prospect of a partnership with nary a backward glance; and achieving certain deliverance from life on her own, she'll eagerly take on the role of happy homemaker in the light of day— even when she's more nine-to-five than her fine fellow— while nailing the part of the happy hooker, much to her mate's delight, in the not-so-still of the night. In the female Moonchild, these two seemingly opposite dynamics are not mutually exclusive.

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Thanks! oh and i'm bi but i have a bf so yeah

posted June 24, 2013 10:21 AM            

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Passion, Lust, Desire. Check out my journal

posted June 24, 2013 11:18 AM            

quote:

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Originally posted by MsPrism:
Lunae:

Hey girl, we'll see if that tightly conjunct Moon makes a difference! First I'll stick with the pattern and see if having no planets in the 10th means that you're most like the Pisces Female description and if you read it and go "bleh, that's not right!" I'll put up the Cancer info and see if that fits!

Sex+Sexuality Pisces Female

In the mythical character of Aphrodite, we see Pisces's complicated vision of sex. The great love goddess is wedded to the divine Everyman, Hephaestus, is ardently pursued by the brutally masculine Mars, but is most enamored of the delicate "boy" Adonis. Blanche Dubois's first love, too, is a rather fragile youth— like Adonis, the tender fellow dies for the affection she heaps on him— and being rather stuck on these tender sorts, she is later run out of town for taking her teacher job too far with the juvenile male student-body. Blanche's Mars equivalent is Stanley— in the play, she even suspects he's an Aries, the male personification of the Mars-Ares archetype; and her Hephaestus, whom she aims to marry, is the safe, menschlike Mitch. Let's deconstruct: Most every Pisces woman will have a painful if not tragic memory of her first love for that "sensitive" boy, a bond that was never meant to be. Blanche's family home, the aptly named Belle Reve, symbolizes her beautiful dreams, including the (Piscean) delusional hope of love shared with a harmless, hormoneless boy. And the fanciful Fish is forced to ditch her delusions when faced with a similarly harsh reality: The pretty boys she's attracted to in her youth are themselves often attracted to the macho men who make her bristle. Any lifelong lust for ambiguous jailbait notwithstanding, Pisces eventually realizes her own attraction to these sexy beasts, too, finding herself at delicious odds with the more blatantly red-blooded males of the world who give off a whiff of base animalism to her refined signature hooked nose. She inherently feels that such overtly masculine types are nearly another species, altogether separate from herself. The mythical Venus and Mars (Aphrodite and Ares) are as much archetypal lovers as they are irreconcilable rivals, love and war being at once the most extreme of concepts and yet, all being fair in both, metaphorically relatable and indeed combined into the love warrior character of Venus' son, Cupid. Again, we come up against a Pisces female paradox— she is equally attracted to and repulsed by the he-men of the world, enticed and intoxicated by their nature, and yet unable to reconcile such stereotypically male characters with her "beautiful dream" of life, which was never meant to include smelly sneakers or back hair.

No woman finds affront to her delicate sensibilities faster than Pisces female. Whether her natural disposition or such airs as she puts on— the real and the fabricated being one and the same for the Fish— Pisces comes across as the bluest of prudish princesses. (Blueness is a synonym for purity, the supposedly snow-white Blanche being costumed in della robbia blue, the color drawn from the gown of the Madonna, whose blue dress, fringed in white, is the ancient costume of Aphrodite-Mari, representing the sea edged with foam.) In fact, Pisces is so purposefully proper that this overriding trait comes to define men's attraction to the zodiac's eternal belle, for better or for worse. First of all, this exaggeratedly comme if faut, if not holier-than-thou, diva continues to attract every worshipful homosexual male on the gaydar. And sometimes the attraction extends far beyond friendly. Many a Pisces woman won't have readily awakened from a liaison with one of her signature dreamboys: having so many sensitive, decidedly female qualities in common with a man that it overrides any potential sexuality questions. Like Gemini woman, the Fish might find herself in a series of marriages or serious relationships ala Blanche or Sally Bowles with closeted gay men, thinking nothing suspicious in their shared desire to regularly redecorate to the soothing strains of Liza with a Z. To be fair, Pisces might purposely have opted for such a bond wherein she and an equally persnickety male can live a sexless, sequestered life— she won't be put upon to put out. For, in a sense, Pisces woman can be somewhat sexless, that is when she's not completely nymphomaniacal, the most striking paradox of this pretty Fish. Meanwhile she has her fetishes, which typically include those innocent young lads, but as she can't easily abide what she considers the sexual tyranny of heterosexual relationships. This daughter of Neptune is more about the special effects in life than she is about any sort of solid plot. Just as she eschews the more banal realities of her conditioning and puts on extravagant airs, so, too, does she not only have, but heartily enjoy, her own illusions about sex via which she seeks to escape the grimmer dynamics of it. In brass tacks, she's easily grossed out by the actual carnal function and machinations of sex— the sweating, the odors, the emitting of fluids, totally clash with her dreamy visions. As a nod to the 12th House's association with inhibitions and isolation, she is the zodiac's very own Untouchable. Some Pisces women are so vehemently squeamish about sex that, when they become pregnant, friends and family who know them best are inclined to suspect some form of immaculate conception. Pisces female tends to associate sex, often inextricably linked to any inappropriate sexual contact she may have suffered through in her youth, with feeling dirty; and the Fish is in the business of washing away any such sins she detects in herself. We see this in the characterization of Blanche, who is forever taking her long, fragranced baths— absolution if not utter dissolution— like Aphrodite ritually renewing her virginity, a trick to which any card-carrying Pisces would appreciate knowing the secret. But it's only half the story: For Aphrodite was the original nympho who would have had cause to renew that virginity on a regular basis.

And besides attracting every gay man within earshot of her siren's call, the enchanting, sanctimonious Pisces attracts that many straight men, who view her as a top-drawer lady, a class act, a princess worthy of the royal treatment. The poor unsuspecting suckers— they don't stand a chance: Thinking the Fish lady a demure female character deserving of all the finer things in life, a regular Joe might romantically approach Pisces from the perspective of her being "too good for him," but by whom he will "do right." Treating her like some insatiable muse, he may bankrupt his spirit, if not his bankroll, trying to elicit a passionate response to his tributes. What he typically gets in return is the luxury of calling her his own. A man who claims her is thus endowed with a status similar to one toting around some golden-age starlet, such is the statement she makes, by her very presence, to any and all persons with whom she comes into contact. One way or another, she'll have you know she's special. And in scoring her as arm candy, many a man counts himself the beneficiary of some cosmic miracle. Wondering why she is so willing to give herself to a man she mightn't even love is akin to pondering why it is the ancients wedded Aphrodite, the epitome of female beauty, to the only lame and ugly god, Hephaestus. The answer: He's safe, and so totally grateful to be linked with her that little demand will be placed on her. In most cases, Pisces negotiates herself into relationships that promise sanctuary, a kind of sponsorship by a mate who functions for them both. The Fish seeks to remain protected in a fishbowl of sorts, her partner sprinkling whatever she needs for sustenance while providing those attractive accoutrements— the house, fine furnishings, and holidays— that keep the muse from becoming bored. Sally Bowles serves as this type of muse. Sometimes there's simply no pleasing her, as the Pisces petitions for more and more comfort and stability, as opposed to outright luxury, while lifting nary a finger. And still, it is she who calls the shots. When and if, however, circumstances don't go exactly her way, Pisces is not one to abandon ship; rather she slips back into that martyred role she played so readily in her youth. Sighing her way through hard times, Pisces woman makes her partner feel that much more responsible for having disappointed her. Again, this buys her more personal freedom within the bond, as the least her partner can do is to leave the poor, put-upon Pisces in peace. The best that could happen, for all concerned, is for the mouse of a mensch to act like a man and stand up to the Pisces. Invariably, the Fish will find this macho display, from a partner she'd happily written off as meek, makes her surprisingly weak in the knees. Indeed, their relationship only survives in the wake of this man becoming less worshipful. By the same token, Pisces gradually allows herself to grasp the latent male animal lurking within this sort of mate as he progressively asserts himself by palatable degrees. Indeed, the whole of Pisces's metaphorical allergy to he-men is based on either an inbred or conditioned fear of susceptibility to their power over her. Again, this is often a result of an unfortunate liason in her youth. Sooner or later, however, every straight Pisces woman will, in one way or another, be forced to face the natural attraction that she, as the zodiac's über-female, feels for those more overstated males of the species.

Just as a gay man might find Pisces the perfect icon, and the regular Joe will see her as a sort of step up, the self-possessed, ego-driven alpha male views Pisces as grade-A ***** that needs to be taken down a peg. Any Piscean partnership with a man less eminently masculine than she is feminine is bound to be precariously lopsided. Still there is such a mental, indeed psychic, gulf between her and a proverbial man's man that it is no easy task to fuse the two, except on the level of physical attraction. Part and parcel of Pisces's prim properness is her signature repression of sexual energy. Taking again Blanche DuBois as an example, she is as repulsed by Stanley's base behavior as she is betrayed by her innate attraction to him. Every Pisces female, no matter how many homo or henpecked husbands she hides behind, is fairly itching to play Lady Chatterley to some raw and hunky gameskeeper. In the case of the bath- and booze-happy Blanche, eventually raped by Stanley, she suffers a nervous breakdown so severe that it sends her, at play's end, bundled up in della robbia blue, to the funny farm— remember that profound Piscean rock bottom. And yet, according to Gore Vidal in his autobiographical Palimpsest, Tennessee Williams claimed that Blanche experiences a full recovery and reclaims her diva status by opening New Orleans's premier dress shop. Stanley's right "rodgering" shatters Blanche's illusions, allowing her to surface a real, productive character. She, like all Pisces women, finds her true self-esteem, which had been repressed along with past pain and fear. Still, a good screw isn't the only key to Pisces female's well-being. The sexy-mama aspect of herself doesn't miraculously replace the virginal Madonna or the psychic wise woman— these two of her three faces keep her more latent libidinous tendencies in check, even when they surface with a startling vengeance. The message isn't that the Piscean Blanche truly needs a beastly Stanley in order to find happiness. Au contraire: Despite the perks of being poked by a straightforward male sexual figure, such a rough-and-ready guy is, ironically, not nearly man enough for her. A relationship with so singularly macho a character tends to be an explosive match, wherein the love bond does remarkably take on the dynamics of war. Nope, the zodiac's triple-goddess incarnate needs a far more well-rounded male than that.

Though the trident is a symbol of the triple goddess, it is clearly a phallic one. Wielded by male gods— the Hindu Shiva, Trefuilngid Tre-Eochair (the shamrock god) in Celtic Ireland, Poseidon and Hades in Greece, as well as the demonized Christian devil who begot the Antichrist upon the medieval Blancheflor, the Lilymaid whose symbol is the fleur-de-lis, a symbol of the yoni, trident-like in form— it represents the triple penis, the exact endowment required to mate with each aspect of the Pisces threefold goddess, all in one go. Likewise, to avoid disappointment, Pisces needs a partner who is a combination of all three aspects of manhood that have heretofore appealed to her various needs. As anybody who has ever had a relationship with a Pisces will concur, she can be the most demanding and least easily satisfied of women. Whether it is her archetypal nature that dictates this quality, or her nature that gives rise to comparisons with the threefold cognate goddess, is a conundrum akin to the familiar chicken-or-egg, alpha-or-omega, dilemma. Pisces's perfect mate, therefore, is one-third male love-object, one-third humble provider, and one-third masculine beast. A man must hold the three-pronged key to accessing her multifarious affections— he needs to be emotionally sensitive, materially servicing, and sexually virile. She neither requires a man of whom she can take control nor one who will be controlling; rather, the Pisces gives a man charge of the relationship, unwilling as she is to take on such a role herself. All responsibility is delegated to him— but it must be clear that it is hers to entrust in the first place. Even in this most perfect, and thus rare, relationship scenario, the Pisces will still seek to dissolve into the protection of the bond. With his triple-prong key, her man is the ultimate gatekeeper, entrusted with the duty of keeping the world at bay. Not to say that Pisces mightn't hold down a job or otherwise interact with people— though in many cases she won't— it's just that being a Pisces woman is alone a full-time occupation. She is thoroughly preoccupied with herself, not to mention how well or not she is being treated by others. Her partner comes under the most direct scrutiny, expected as he is to display the kind of respect due a virtuous Madonna, to express the sort of sexual desire any sacred harlot would require, and to afford her the brand of material comfort she deserves, laid out at her dainty Pisces-ruled feet. And yet, her mate might find, all this won't be quite enough.

The unsuspecting fellow who falls for the Fish always gets more than he bargained for, which generally becomes apparent in short order. For someone who seems so untouchable and hard to get, she expects the bond to become almost instantly serious. Indeed, Pisces typically moves from one major relationship to another in her search for Mr. Right, in the meantime craving the confines of even a troublesome bond on which she can depend. When she happens upon a man who fits her unconscious criteria as the perfect mate, she wastes no time securing the love connection, often not being above using sex as a means for cementing a man's interest. She needs so full of a man's attention as to border on obsession— this is evidenced by her nearly maniacal jealous streak, one fueled by her infamously wild imagination. Of course, in suspecting her mate is taking up with every floozy that crosses his path, there is an element of the pot calling the kettle black. Indeed, Pisces may stop at nothing if she spies a "prime mate," and his marital status is of little consequence. Dissolving as she does into every experience, the sexually seasoned Pisces who has had her illusions gloriously shattered more than a few times will be extra compliant when it comes to a man's demands in the bedroom, or any other room in the house for that matter. This is particularly true when it comes to negotiating herself into a new relationship. In fact, she may pull out the ***** card when she feels she has to. Providing a guy with a profound sexual experience is the quickest way she knows of putting a man under her enchanting spell. Indeed, no woman can sweep a man off his feet, or often out of his marriage, faster than the Fish girl. She is one female other women are loath to find themselves faced off with in a love triangle— she is always victorious. Like Aphrodite at the Judgment of Paris, she knows what men want more than wisdom or worldly power: the best lay imaginable by the most feminine female they can find.

Nowhere is the Pisces's paradoxical nature more evident than in her sexual behavior. For such a subjectively fueled creature, sex, something meant to be so personal an experience, is probably the one thing in life toward which she is ultimately wholly objective. Rarely will her urges be so pressing as to rule her, something that even a prolific Pisces such as Anaïs Nin seems to escape in her multitude of experience. Indeed, Pisces enjoys eroticism, even in the form of a dime-store novel, generally endowed with a talent for exteriorizing sex herself, whether it be in her own writing or in her blatant exploration of the subject in what is otherwise meant to be polite conversation. That dynamic follows her into the bedroom. She is open to activities that might make other women's hair curl. She isn't so much passive, or even receptive, as she is susceptible to the desires of her partner. It's as if she needs nothing more or less than what's needed of her by her man. She is utterly available in the moment, willing to comply with a partner's penchant for sexually going "around the world," open to any and all oral or anal activities with equal nonchalance. Pisces is not a passionate lover, any pleasure seeming to take her unawares. On the other hand, she never quite loses her untainted and innocent vision of what sex should be, more likely than not fantasizing about some underage stud with peach fuzz on his lip when left alone to her own masturbatory devices. Between sexual bouts, she seems to regrow her own pure virgin vision, a bubble that is continually burst much to her astonished delight. She simply never expects to enjoy the depths of sexual delight or debauch as much as she does, and her partner must be prepared to encounter her unfathomable source of pleasurable participation. This is certainly where the he-man aspect of a mate must make itself known, for once Pisces gets started, she certainly won't expect to stop anytime soon.

Still, Pisces isn't particularly active in the sack. Remaining the passive recipient is in great part from whence her gratification stems. Her particular proclivities, aside from the norm, tend to include being plundered in one way or another. The proverbial victim of love, she might easily be persuaded to engage in a bit of bondage if, and only if, it is with a trusted partner. As it is, even when Pisces has celebrated a golden wedding anniversary, her mate will always remain somewhat a stranger to her, and she to him. She is never one to discuss her internal workings with a man— she'd sooner do so in group therapy or a twelve-step program. There must remain a line between the sexes whereby she is allowed to stew in the juices of her own imagination, whether pursuing a solo creative yearning or simply alternating her days between good books, good naps, and a few good nips in the evening. When it comes to spending time with her partner, she generally gives all her attention and energy to listening to his worldly workings, issues, and problems and offering him her sage consideration and counsel. It's the same with sex— it's all about him, as she is most likely to get off on a man indulging himself with, in, and all over her. She wants to be confronted with a guy's lust far more than she wants to share in some mutual expression session. Sex should take Pisces to the limit, whether it be via straight-up intercourse aimed at continually breaking her record for the most orgasms had in a single night, or by the playing out of a man's sexual fantasies, particularly those that involve imposing control over the ecstatically floundering Fish. Submissive fantasies abound as do any such activities where she is prone to elicit as much of a man's dominant nature as possible. And then there's that kindness-of-strangers dynamic that, in more cases than she'd care to admit, drives the Pisces in search of a steady stream of one-night stands or no-strings booty calls. The personals' sex ads and their online equivalents, where women are doubtless the minority placing notices? Well, the majority of said minority is comprised of this most wanton of signs.

While in a long-term relationship, the unerring desire to please her man— really an unconscious guise for satisfying herself— will come to a screeching halt at the mere mention of lesbian play for her partner's benefit. Pisces is loath to introduce another woman into the sexual mix as, being too jealous of and competitive with other females, she wouldn't generally be able to bear her man's attention directed at anybody else. After all, she works harder than most at indulging even her guy's most outrageous demands; she's not about to then see her allure, and his appreciation, diluted by a guest appearance by some auxiliary T& A. But it's definitely not the idea of girl-on-girl action that puts her off. Truth be told, most Pisces women have a sapphic side that points at a double standard where same-sex contact is concerned: Despite being a magnet for gay men, the Fish typically finds the notion of gay male sex rather repulsive, and she would be especially hard on a mate who is prone to switch-hitting. But when it comes to girl gayness, she is most forgiving— to say the least. To generalize wildly, it seems that a large proportion of Pisces women possess a latent lesbianism. Often, she is blatantly bisexual and makes no bones about it. Many a straight, even married, Pisces woman has gay fantasies, not to mention girl friendships that border on flirtation. Indeed, even when she doesn't have such feelings, Pisces will be surrounded by a bunch of lesbian cronies— she may be the "honorary dyke" amongst them. As her personal demons are faced over time, Pisces loses herself less and less in substances and immerses herself more and more into a self-help milieu that inevitably leads to her helping others. This gives rise to her involvement in charitable causes and public-welfare concerns in general— a positive manifestation of Piscean dissolution wherein she gives herself over to selfless deeds and profound service to others. Straight or gay, she increasingly associates with people who are on similar tracks, owning up to themselves and clearing away their subconscious cobwebs. As a result, she may encounter men and women with issues surrounding addiction. Forming friendships with these individuals is de rigueur for the Fish, and that many of these bonds are based on a code of anonymity is perfectly in keeping with her sign's association with secrecy and isolation. Bonds with other women are generally formed on the basis and theme of the female societal condition. When it comes to feelings and concerns about being a woman, including the topic of sexual relations between ladies, Pisces doesn't bat an eye.

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