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