... there was something in the right-hand corner of her
mouth that wanted her not to call Peter names.
Her name isn't really Debra, but let's call her Debra. His name isn't really Steve, but let's call him Steve. The names may be fictional, but I assure you that this man and woman are actual, living, breathing human beings. Their natal Suns are trined. Debra is a petite, ponytailed Aquarian Water Bearer, sweetly child-like and feminine (Ha!), who is brilliantly, if at times violently, ruled by the masculine planet Uranus. Steve is a Venus-ruled Libra man, whose intelligence and genius are an equal match for her own. He is sometimes mellow and gentle and kind, at other times just plain mean and despicable, depending a great deal upon how recently she has smashed his delicate Scales out of balance with the sledgehammer of her unpredictable Uranian behavior. They're both working toward their M.D.'s and Ph.D.'s, with a common goal of becoming medical research scientists who will discover something of great benefit to mankind and womankind. Rather like America's answer to the Curies of France.
Isn't it odd that one always thinks of the latter as Madame Curie and her husband, instead of the other way around? There must be a lesson there. Perhaps the lesson that it doesn't matter which horse wears the garland of posies as long as the wagon gets to town.
We shall use Steve and Debra's relationship as a mirror for all Libra men and Aquarian space women for a few paragraphs. All right, are you all gazing into the mirror? Look closely now.He vacillates. He can't decide whether to marry her, live with her, ignore her or leave her. She has no such problem. She knows exactly which of those arrangements she prefers, and her mind is as firm as a rock. On Sundays, she wants to marry him. Every other Tuesday, she's positive they should just live together until they receive their degrees. On certain Uranian-storm-tossed Thursdays, she prefers that he ignore her, which is painfully evident when she leaves the receiver of her phone off the hook and throws the double police lock on her door. On occasional dreary Saturdays, flashed by Uranus lightning, she emphatically wishes him to leave her, a desire she manages to clearly communicate by throwing all his clothes out the upstairs bedroom window, plus his new watch, which unfortunately never seems to survive the fall - and often including his term papers, which of course get blown around in the snow and ice and terribly smudged and therefore must be typed all over again. But let no one accuse ====her of being impartial.
On such dreary Saturdays she also cuts into confetti the pages of her own thesis, on which she has labored long and brain-fatiguing hours, and dramatically flushes them down the toilet, announcing loudly that she's decided to hitchhike across Europe and join a gypsy caravan, and who wants a stuffy old medical degree anyway?
He can't leave well enough alone, and instead of being happy when she's in a conciliatory mood and invites him over for her special home-baked lasagna, he insists on knowing the name of the gypsy who invited her to join his caravan in Europe. He keeps it up. She makes up a name out of her very fertile imagination.He leaves angrily, without eating a bite of the dinner she spent all day
cooking for him.
There was a time when he finally decided they should never see each other again. He packed up his dog and his microscope and his sprouts and left her for good, going so far as to move in with a friend in another city, and getting an unlisted phone number. She quickly located both his address and his phone number.(I keep telling you Aquarians are born detectives.) A few months later, he was bringing her flowers and poems and stuffed monkeys - and taking her out to dinner by candlelight twice a week. Shortly thereafter, he moved back in with his dog, his microscope, his sprouts and three male friends (to protect him).
The first night, they dismally failed to protect him. Following a rousing quarrel over the fact that he had turned their happy home into a boardinghouse,he and his three friends went to sleep on the floor of the den, after carefully locking the door. He was locking her out? In a house where she paid half the rent? And he considered himself fair? She wasn't a fledgling scientist for nothing.
It took her until three o'clock in the morning, but eventually she prepared,in the kitchen sink, using some experimental homework test tubes, a dreadful concoction of chemicals with an ammonia base, then carefully poured it into a squirt gun (yes, this really happened), which she proceeded to squirt under the door to the den, which she had also locked from her side. Fortunately, the den had windows, through which the four gasping men escaped the fumes that had awakened them from a sound sleep. They at first thought it was a UFO attack.(It's easy to mistake an Aquarian caper for an interplanetary zapping.) Of course, when they climbed out the windows, they walked all over the Libra man's clothes and his watch, which were strewn around on the ground, waiting for him. Understandably, they were both late for class that day.
Now, I know you aren't going to believe this (unless you're a Libra male or an Aquarian female), but Debra and Steve kissed and made up a few weeks following that Close Encounter, and the last time I heard they were blissfully studying their anatomy and biochemistry together.
They love, you see. They need one another. Because there's no one else who can heal her heart as tenderly as her Libra man, with his sunlit smile - no one else who would ever love him, with all his flaws and vices, as fiercely and loyally and faithfully as his volatile Water Bearer - and certainly there's no one else either of them can intellectually respect as much as they do each other.When she isn't squirting guns under the den door, she's super intelligent, cuddly and affectionate, as dear and desirable as a small puppy. When he isn't being cold and cranky and callous, he's gentle and amusing and clever, and very loving.Then too, there's her home-baked lasagna. And the fact that he's the only
man who will ever say "I love you" to her with genuine tears in his eyes, or who would sentimentally wear a smashed wristwatch with the hands permanently set at midnight, because it was a gift from her.
Every time she quarrels with her Libra man, this Aquarian woman phones me around dawn, tearfully, with the same touching words: "He said he was my friend. Friends should understand each other, shouldn't they? I don't care about all the rest of it, but he said he was my friend."
Aquarians of both sexes place a high value on friendship. You may behave as you like as a lover or husband or wife, but friendship must live up to an inflexible code. There are certain things friends do. And there are certain things friends don't do. Friends do not talk about you to other people, unless they're saying nice things. Friends do not break promises. Friends accept you with all your faults. Friends are never disloyal - and friends are there when you need them. Aquarians rarely realize that their definition of friendship is interchangeable with the definition of real love. The Water Bearers never ask for more in friendship than they're willing to give in return. The only difference between the Uranus ideals of friendship and love is the combination of the sexes involved,and in the Aquarian Age, it's difficult to draw the line of distinction.
The Libra man absolutely must have peace and harmony in his environment.Without it, he will inevitably become seriously ill physically, mentally,emotionally - or all three. This is an unbreakable law of astrology concerning the Venus-ruled. Consequently, the Aquarian woman who truly loves this man will make a sincere attempt to stifle her eccentricities (except for the stimulating and challenging ones) and exert a strong effort to bring calm and quiet to their relationship. This is not always an easy task for the girl Water Bearer, because a Libra man will perversely create much of his own disharmony by trying too hard to please everyone, working too hard for months on end, until he's on the verge of collapse, and worrying about how to make everyone like him and like each other besides. He either tries to be Henry Kissinger with all his friends, taking on everyone's burdens - or he gives up on trying to make everything come out even, and burns the candle of his creativity at both ends, tryinyto prove to the world that he, at least, is doing his very best - when the world isn't even aware that he's out there running around in circles to please it.
When he becomes unbearably frustrated, he may turn to drinking and partying to excess, then suffer from pangs of guilt over neglecting his woman, his studies, his work, his physical health, and so forth. Libra men work hard and they play hard. They possess an unerring instinct for compromising disagreements and mediating troublesome situations smoothly and effortlessly. Yet they can't seem to acquire the knack of bringing their own minds and bodies into equilibrium and balance with each other. This man will go like sixty for long periods of time, never relaxing for a moment; then he'll drop in a heap on the bed, and lie there so still for so long, the Aquarian woman who loves him will fear he's slipped into a catatonic trance, or has succumbed to a fatal attack of sleeping sickness. He's only resting. That's all, just resting. Leave him alone,and he'll soon be himself again, once he's recouped his energies and rejuvenated his spirit. If you must join him, play music for him, read softly to him, make sure his room is neat and tidy and bright and cheerful, with lots of fresh air and don't discuss anything negative with him. This is not the time to coax him into agreeing with you, when the poor man is flat on his back. There are more pleasant ways of soothing him during his quiet spells. Venus ways.
Love, in all its variations, certainly not excluding its sexual aspect, is as necessary to the Libra man as breathing. Friendship, in all its variations, is as necessary to the Aquarian woman as breathing. If he'll be her real friend, she'll be able to trust him with her heart, which will allow her to be as ardent a sexual and romantic partner as he could possibly desire, even when he's dreaming (and passion is a subject this man dreams about a lot). The reverse is also true.
If she'll be his lace Valentine girl, live up to his glorified image of womanhood (stop threatening him with imaginary gypsies) and respond to his lovemaking with a matching desire - he'll be the most loyal and faithful friend she could possibly hope for (and her hopes are gigantic in the friendship department).It's what you might call an even trade-off, with each giving the other what he or she needs most.
This woman is sexually turned off when her Libra lover or husband has hurt her in some way by breaking her friendship code, however briefly, in however minor a way. Likewise, this man finds it impossible to physically demonstrate his love for her when, a few hours before they embrace at night, she's won an intellectual argument and made him feel foolish in some trifling way. Both of them should apologize for the unintentional wounding of each other - and remember the ancient warning: Never let the Sun set on anger (which originated,not with your great-grandmother, but within the mass collective subconscious memory, symbolizing the dreadful twilight when Set murdered his brother, Osiris, causing the Earth's first "Sun-set." How the Earth existed without a sunset before that time we'll discuss in a forthcoming book. Aquarians will be fascinated).
Then the two of them, the Libra man and his Aquarius woman, should simply fall asleep quietly, holding hands, and not pursue love, but allow it to gently surprise them with its depth when they awaken in the morning. Libra and Aquarius will find their sexual love more fulfilling when they approach it lightly and reverently, even poetically, but never aggressively or demandingly. The lovemaking pattern of two Air Signs is very delicate. When their minds are in tune, their bodies will respond, and sing along in beautiful harmony. When their minds are troubled or confused, forcing love will only bruise its fragile loveliness . . . or freeze it into boredom.
These two are bound to hurt each other now and then, because they love so much. But the 5-9 vibration will ever renew their forgiveness, if they give it half a chance. This man can't bear to be alone; he must marry (or live as though he's married) or burn with frustration. The Libran who fights this instinctive urge within himself is a miserable male indeed. Aries, the opposite sign to Libra, vibrates to Sunrise, but Libra vibrates to Sunset.
Sunset is his lonely time, when he's most vulnerable to his Aquarian woman who wants to say "I'm sorry." The golden blaze of light at Sunset, when day is leaving, holds a poignant beauty. No other kind of light can bring so much pain to Libra, when there's no one special to be with, no one who really cares. Enveloped in the darkness of his terrible loneliness, he watches people stream out of office buildings into the day's final brightness, everyone going somewhere but him .. then suddenly he sees her, etched in pink-gold, walking toward him, uncertain.
He didn't plan to see her so unexpectedly like this, but he should have. Everything about her is unexpected. He hurries to her - and she walks faster too.He can tell she's been crying, because her nose is red. She's carrying a very large box, almost bigger than she is . . . a surprise for him. What could it be? Believe it or not (believe it), it's an electric train set from the F.A.O. Schwarz toy store on Fifth Avenue. That's for "what." As for "why"? Because he'd stared at it in the window one day for hours, when they were together, and said it was exactly like the one Santa had left under his tree Christmas morning when he was nine years old.
He doesn't know whether to laugh or weep. So he smiles instead. "Do you know you're crazy?" She nods. She knows. "Can we still be friends?" she asks him, unsure. He considers. "Only if you promise to come home with me and help me set up the train tracks," he tells her. She smiles back then. They hail a passing yellow-gold taxi, jump in together, close the doors... and she leans back against his shoulder at the very moment the Sun disappears from the sky... just in time. But it was close.
