Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Hey, Venus! Oh, Venus!

Astrologically speaking, my Venus is in Aries. It’s not the best placement, since Venus is all love and harmony and passivity, and Aries is all forceful and active and competitive. The nicest way I’ve seen Venus in Aries described comes courtesy of Lyn Birkbeck in Do It Yourself Astrology: “Your love nature can be condensed into one small and simple word—imp. You are impish in that you are naughty and delight in getting others to misbehave. You are impudent in your manner of boldly and shamelessly pursuing the object of your desires…In other words, you have a rather primitive approach that can be either enchanting or disenchanting…

Does making out with a random antiques dealer in his booth at the Pier Show some time back count? There may or may not have been other customers there at the time, but yes, this is an example of Venus in Aries in all its blood-galloping-to-groin glory…

I was with my fellow flea market huntress, the beautiful and Barbie-loving Rebecca, when we passed a booth displaying vintage sunglasses—R. going for big bubblegum-colored plastic 70s models, me liking a pair of 50s-ish gold-framed Ray Bans.

And yes, even more eye candy (GROAN! I know, that was soooo lame): the dealer, wearing a dark blue British Mod-era suit (with a polka-dot shirt, or am I projecting?) and looking a-whole-freakin’-lot like Dave Davies of the Kinks, circa 1967:

Heart aflutter, I went home and, in typical Venus in Aries style, started hatching a plan that involved—, I am so lame—me handing Dave-alike a business/calling card that featured a graphic of a bob-haired flapper releasing a tiny man from a gilt cage. (Err…I designed them myself.)

I went back the next Saturday, only to totally chicken out.

But don’t worry—Cupid calls, stupid follows unawares. I got back on the horse the next day, now-or-nevering in vintage brown H Bar C hip huggers and cowboy boots and honestly, I don’t know what I said or how we got there, but yes, French kissing in the corner.

There were a few assignations after that, though I’m not sure Bing approved. Well, OK, I’m positive Bing didn’t approve. He told the animal communicator to tell me: “First Name doesn’t let you be yourself. He wants to control everything, and he wants you to pay attention to him and not take care of your own life.”

Added Bing, “It’s not serving you.”

Bing was right, of course. First Name and I were not to be. He was chockful of issues—from being abducted by an alien to his inability to commit. I totally supported him on the alien front—didn’t you guys see Communion?—but blabbering about his commitment issues really did it for me.

You see, Venus in Aries folks don’t really like to think ahead too much or talk about that stuff in the beginning stages of romance. The idea of putting a name or a definition on something like a relationship is just…bad manners. Would you stand up in the middle of an incredible film and whine about how it might end? Love is best savored in the present state, and of course dreamed and schemed about in each and every in between. In reality, if you motor down that path too wholeheartedly, you’re ultimately left, well, brokenhearted at worst and unsatisfied at best.

The moral of the story? Listen to what the Bing says.

For those who need a sign
Funky Pretty, The Beach Boys for my Pisces lady friends

Two lonely people, the helpless kind?! Dave, you're killing me. One of my top 2 Kinks songs, Love Me Till The Sun Shines:

P.S. Along a similar vein, but this one took place during the gift show at the Javitts Center during the earliest days of my editorial career: I was supposed to be going around looking for juicy stuff to report on, and stopped at a booth where a completely stereotypical surfer dude was debuting his handmade boomerangs. This was so not what we were covering (think Precious Moments and duck-stamp art), but the guy was so eager and sweet, I had to stop. Before I knew what was happening, he was pulling me behind a curtain and shoving his tongue down my throat. Are you thinking I should have been scared? Trust me, it was just a kiss, albeit a sloppy one, and he was totally harmless—think adolescent, unneutered dog—and I was on my way, notebook and business cards in hand, within 30 seconds.


  1. Pune, oh my! How positively scandalous. You did all of this while working on the CCC time clock. If Robert had ever known, he'd be publicly condemning, and then privately wallowing in it. And, Joan? Good heavens, perish the thought.

    Glad you had your own precious moment at the gift show (or was it during Toy Fair)! I never had any such interlude, but I did get a creepy/predatory vibe from the older woman who was playing Cruella de Vil and posing with attendees at Expo West. I swear she was a "daughter of Sappho"!
    Very interesting post, especially because I know the tight leash we were all on back at the ranch! Always good to let your inner imp out.

  2. Before I read a bit into your post, I thought those photos were of Oscar Wilde. Do you that's the look Dave was going for?

  3. I wish I'd had a little more of this in my pre-married days instead of my pervasive fear of making out. My list of misses is regrettable.