Freshman year, I declared it my collegiate mission to fuck my way through the zodiac. My first sexual encounter happened my first week of college. It was a two month affair with a poetic Pisces, the first of many Pisces to find their way into my bed. The stars say that Sagittarius, my sign, and Pisces are one of the worst matches, both sexually and romantically. I love to inflict emotional pain upon myself though, so I love Pisces.
Calling this little sexperiment “research” was a bit of a stretch, but that was what I told myself as I read up on astrological sexual chemistry articles and consulting books, like Sextrology, and spoke with friends at Emerson.
Capricorn was the next sign to crawl its way into my every waking thought. According to astrologists, Capricorns like to take their time before jumping into bed with a person, but once they do, they love to take charge. This all proved to be very true for this particular Capricorn, a boy I met on Tinder and hooked up with for a solid five months.
The first time we had sex was on our third date, which set a false precedent that every future Tinder date of mine would be as slow and suspenseful as his. Three minutes into the act, his hand found its way around my neck, no warning or permission asked. I’d never been choked in bed before, but I was into being dominated by this headstrong man. In the month of April, though, a Taurus snatched my Capricorn away from me, and I was back to swiping through Tinder.
Truthfully, the next two people I slept with in this timeline were one night stands, meaningless hookups with meaningless conversations that failed to touch upon the subject of astrology. I counted these as losses, since I had no idea what their zodiac signs were. Did I fuck a Gemini? A Scorpio? What if I had fucked someone on the cusp without even knowing it?
The stars had an Aries in store for me next. Being a fellow fire sign, our sexual chemistry was supposed to be just as hot as our signs, but this was very much wrong. I blame our lack of lust on the fact that we Netflix and Chill’d to House of Cards. While Kevin Spacey can definitely flood my basement, the political undertones of the show weren’t exactly sexy. The Aries also had awful breath and called me out on faking an orgasm, which was true. That was in line with Aries nature, as they are not the type of people you can easily fool.
My freshmen year ended in two parts. Part one involved walking down the hall to have sex with the Virgo in 426, an experience that was a lot more intense than I was expecting. He rolled a perfectly crafted joint and we smoked out in the Common. Though our conversations weren’t of any significance, he spoke intelligently, a classic Virgo quality, but was also incredibly negative, another Virgo staple.
In bed, he was vivacious. Dirty talk was a particular kink of his, which I found interesting because Virgos are often very polite and adverse to vulgarity in public. Our sexual selves can be deeply different than our public selves, something I’ve learned throughout my sexual adventures. I am not into dirty talk, at least not the nonsense that was spewing out of his mouth. He was stellar at eating out though, so I felt I had to compromise a little with that one.
Part two of my freshmen year conclusion was with a Leo. This person was a senior, ready to ditch the purple bubble that was Emerson and head back to his Midwestern home but not before pounding me into oblivion.
Google any compatibility site for a Sagittarius, and you will discover that their most compatible sign is a Leo. I definitely agree with this sentiment because sex with him was like what I imagine having sex with a sex god would be like. Or Zayn Malik. Or Ryan Gosling. Or Angelina Jolie.
He was so energetic and exciting, and he knew how to take control. Egos aren’t the only thing Leos love to have stroked, but I definitely inflated his with every moan and whimper I failed to suppress. I’m not a particularly quiet person in bed and the walls of the Little Building are known for being thin, so I sincerely apologize to whoever was in earshot of 402 that night.
Five signs down and seven to go, I dove into sophomore year a little on the fence about hookup culture. Hookup after hookup, Tinder was making me feel a lot more depressed with every insubstantial conversation I had. I took a breather for a few months until I downloaded the app again in December and met the Pisces that would ruin all Pisces for me.
I was head over heels for this Pisces, shaking my fist at the stars for ever saying we wouldn’t be compatible together. The stars were fucking right, though, and continued to drag me along.
He was something else in bed. Sensitive but assertive, and very giving. We had a very strong emotional connection, one that far surpassed our sexual connection, as we had only ever met in person twice. We continue to talk to this day, so while our road has been a bit rocky, I can’t help but hold on to hope that future Pisces won’t steer me wrong.
I’ve had sex with two Taureans, an April one and a May one, and the month really made a difference. This made me curious about how birth charts affect an individual’s sexual chemistry, but that mission would be even more exhausting.
The April Taurus was super vanilla in bed and made uncomfortable faces. The May Taurus was really into foreplay, something Taureans love, and helped me experience multiple orgasms for the first time, so to him I am grateful.
Another sign I hardcore connected with in bed was a Libra. Libras are often morning people, and the morning sex we had was truly the best start to my summer days. This person was a token Libra: loved to fuck for long periods of time, wanted to dominate, and truly felt nothing towards me in the end. That was a bummer, but c’est la vie.
I haven’t accomplished my silly freshmen quest, so if you’re a Gemini, Cancer, Aquarius, Scorpio, or a fellow Sagittarius, hit a girl up: it’s for science.
Art by: Alyssa Geissler