Charles, in the comments, wondered if there was going to be an astrological lesson with this story (Part One is here) and honestly I cannot promise one, other than a step inside the Moon Pluto mind (Virgo conjunction, House 1), as well as whatever else turns up along the way. Some faithful readers wanted me to continue so continue I am 🙂 Thanks guys!
And with Mercury in opposition to Neptune in the sky, and Mercury being newly Retrograde… I’m looking back, I’m merging (Neptune) with the past (Mercury Rx). It’s a 12th House transit for me: writing (Mercury) about secrets (12th House).
So back to our story, which really is a Venus in the 12th House story, a Venus t-square story, a MoonPluto story. There will be a quiz at the end of all my stories 😉
When I was young (and for the sake of context, I’m talking about college-age here), I was completely without awareness, or direction, like a wild animal, operating on instinct. Dreamy, shy. Not that I didn’t hurt because I did. And I don’t know my transits from those days, I never went back to look but I do know my obsessional (Pluto) nature was in full force when it came to me and MEN and this continued on through graduate school. Men were the source of my joy and my shit. I chased them. I got depressed. I left. Or something like that. Sometimes they left me when they found a human, woman, they could relate to, rather than a confused animal, and of course this is all in retrospect. I’m sure at the time I thought I knew everything.
I was Venus square Neptune (the ecstasy) and Venus square Saturn (the agony) and I really did fall in love with Peter, the Englishman I wrote about in the previous post. I felt like I had a sexuality that no one could understand because it was so deep, so feeling, and not at all about what I perceived everyone else doing. Powerful, strong, unrelenting. And I saw myself in him: the things he wanted me to do, the compulsion (Pluto again).
It was a real heartbreak though. He had a girlfriend back home. I remember the night we met, after he went down on me, and I wanted to be penetrated, he didn’t want to, telling me THEN about the girlfriend, and how she admitted that finally she TRUSTED him. He showed me her photograph. The words FUCK YOU were written on her forehead. She had a buzz cut and big blue eyes. I was kind of a hippie (not in appearance but…) I probably had hairy legs that night and I remember us sitting in my living room and him telling me all this…
I don’t want to do a Virgo Moon analysis here so I’m going to skip the rest of the “in retrospect” stuff and the Venus in the 12th secret love affairs stuff and just remember walking the long blocks from the Hardback Cafe down University Avenue to my place in the student ghetto. It was late and probably a little bit cool outside. Florida October. Neptune fuzzes the edges like this. Neptune is soft like the green velvet dress I was wearing.
He told me that she liked him to beat her up. That they beat each other up. And there were things he wanted me to do to him that I now know are, well, standard BDSM stuff, but I didn’t know it then.
I remember one conversation in particular and I have to give you some context: there had been a serial killer in our town that fall, and I remember trying to explain to him and him not quite “getting” the fear I was trying to express, the ENTIRE town on edge, students going back home, leaving in droves, leaving college, because for three nights in a row we woke up to morning papers detaling another linked murder and another eerie crime scene. It was fucking gross and sad and sick. Friends slept at each other’s houses, rumors ran wild, no one wanted to order a pizza (for fear that the pizza delivery guy was a killer, another rumor which swirled). Any time you heard a sound outside? You called 9-11. And it wasn’t just the women who were terrified. A man had been killed as well. No one felt safe.
My mother wanted me to go back home but that was not an option for me. Back there? I remember phone conversations with her but… telling her I was okay or her not pressing it. I’m not sure. She didn’t push. She worried but… there was just no way.
They painted a mural of the names of the victims. I hope it’s still there.
The last day I saw Peter, we made love seven times. He came seven times is what I mean. I was raw inside but it was an emotional fix that I was after.
Never saw him again or heard from him again after that day and there was a Virginia Woolf biography he had given me which I’ve also lost track of, which he had inscribed.
I’ll return to my more standard astro-posts soon!
And Contact Me to talk about your Mercury Retrograde!