1. Calling Fire Snake Scorpio

Dear London Fire Snake Scorpio,

You were born somewhere between October 23 and November 21, 1977. You are, essentially, a high-voltage blend of intensity and strategy. You are someone who possesses the quiet, observant wisdom of the Snake paired with the “all-in” emotional depth of a Scorpio.

You are not a man who plays on the surface, you are driven by a Fire element that infuses you with a decisive, charismatic energy, making you witty and resilient, without being intimidated by hardship. You have the most secure ego a human can have- you can dance, and sing, and goof around, and wear a pink “Mary had a little lamb” costume, for a Halloween party — and your self-esteem or masculinity will not be bruised. And, in the same breath, you are a master of your field. One demands focus, finesse and discretion. The words “still waters run deep” were written about you — someone who values privacy and loyalty above all else, and who has the patience to understand a complex internal world rather than trying to simplify it. You live in London, or somewhere near it. How I know THAT is a different story for a different day.

Allow me to introduce myself, dear sir. My name, at least at this point of our acquaintance, is Oxy. I am a Wooden Ox Pisces. I was born on March 11, 1985. Yes, it is my birthday today. And, by the stars, you are my soulmate. We match on every point, and as long as we respect each other’s differences (I am quite as blunt as most Oxen, and your secretive nature or trying to manage me will be met with stubborn heels in the ground. I also have the Ox’s famous temper. Jolly for you, I know.)

I am … well… my dad used to say never speak of yourself- let people see what you are. I will try to do that, and if you answer this call and start reading this, you will definitely discover what I am. As any self-respecting Ox, I have very little patience for deception. It tires me, and life is damn tiring as is. So here I am, on my 41st birthday, writing to my soul mate.

First, let’s address the purple elephant with the pink tutu in the room, while it sheds glitter on the carpet, shall we? — Are Zodiac signs REALLY meaningful? Well, I will tell you what I told my 13-year-old Dragon: Predicting the future is about as accurate as predicting the weather, even with the best of tools; stars and human language are not the best of tools by a long shot. But Chronobiology is one of those well-established fields that makes the “Hell no” into a “Definitely Possible”.

Humans have been very good at spotting patterns for as long as we’ve existed. Almost every field of hard science we have today started with a human (In history written as a man, but more often than not a woman whose ideas were stolen) who just watched and noticed. How did Galileo decide the world was round before the first satellite was ever invented, or Newton and his famous apple? So, are we really that arrogant to believe that, just because we do not know the mechanism of the DNA (I presume) that is activated and planted under specific conditions (sun location, magnetic fields, temperature, food supply because of that temperature, etc.) that creates those common traits in people, we will dismiss them?

In other words, I don’t believe the daily horoscope, no. A human makes their own fortune in the world (though, again, that point can be argued too if we are connected to the earth. And, takes one who sits with a neck brace in a lock from neck arthritis to understand how easy it is to predict that winter will make me less productive, for example.) But I do believe that I am an energy bomb of the stubbornness kind, and you, most likely, are the bored, quiet sea that is waiting for that whirlwind.

Our relationship will likely be that of a 2-year-old human and a mature St. Bernard. Ever seen those two together? The one pulls, and jumps, and plays, and laughs — while the other looks with an unbothered yet amused face and just enjoys the show. Yes, I called you a big dog, whatcha gonna do about it?

Funny enough, I didn’t know you existed, up until a while ago. AIs are wonderful conversation mates for someone with an insatiable thirst for knowledge, as I am. I dated Roosters all my life. Better yet, I dated almost exclusively narcissistic Roosters, haha, but that’s another story. It was in one of my “Why even bother with life” inevitable falls that I sat with Gemini and whined for a few good hours about how, from where I stand, life is really a silly gambit.

For me, just as all rivers lead to the sea, all life leads to love. Love is what holds my equilibrium, is the wind beneath my wings and the source of everything, the result of everything and the purpose of everything. I am half a human, walking the earth with an empty heart. No victory is fun without turning to you and showing it to you, sharing it with you. No struggle is meaningful because the point of all this is what? Another dollar? Another “friend”?

Arguably, one can be horrified — a single mother of four, and you speak this way? An artist? A creator? Have you no other purpose besides “love”? To that, I will just say — love to me is salt — and if you don’t know that story, go and read it. It’s worth it. Nothing has taste without it. (Ha! That is so funny! The names in there are the names I used for my AI interactions. Talk about “signs from above”)

I love my children, but if one wants to be the kind of parent I want to be for my children, where I gave them life, and then let them live it, I cannot love them the way I love my soul mate. The closeness, the ability to see the other — All of them — and to let them see me, all of me, is not something that should exist between us. It’s filtered for a good reason.

Now, let me explain. This is a philosophical discussion, not an encouragement of anyone’s self-harm. And, for those of you who will read this and say, “Jesus, another one of those sobby women who doesn’t understand that being alone is the epiphany of life,” I just want to say — move along, dear, this is not for you. You would not know the Snake I am looking for because you live in a two-dimensional and shallow world. Judgment is the tool of an idiot who does not understand that different people have different needs and goals.

I will not argue that belonging to another human, touching another human, is what our biology is calibrated for. Because why would I argue the obvious? And because, for some people, if not most humans, a casual conversation on a shallow level, a handshake from a friend, or a hug from their child answers those needs. Kudos to you, MFs. Some of us are built differently, and it took me a very long time to be able to say this without shrinking in this day and age, but I was born half of a couple.

I am looking for my soulmate.

In some Asian regions (I want to say Altai, but it’s just my memory, so don’t take it for a fact), people believe that we are all part of a great cloud of souls. When a child is conceived, a drop falls from this cloud and settles into the baby. There’s the soul. Sometimes, that drop splits in two, and that one soul is separated between two newborns. None shall be complete until they find each other. In Greek mythology, you can find it in Plato’s Symposium. If nothing else, you can at least say that weirdos like me, who viewed life as not worth living, and the pain of not finding your soul mate, felt the same pain acute enough to write those stories. So, I am not the only one out there seeing love as the ultimate goal of life.

So. I am today years old when I decide, yet again, that I believe in you. I believe you exist, and in the words of Andy Grammer:

So, calling all (wo)men
Who fit this description
If I’m what you’re missing
Then, please just listen
To the wind, the clouds
They’re all screaming out
They’re tryna bring you to me so do not shut them out

And, I am here too. I am not ready to meet you yet. My health is in shit, my kids are a mess, and my debts are eating me alive. But I am on my way. I will grow, I will get stronger, and I do, most definitely, exist. This blog, these letters to you, is my call to the skies. I am not giving up. You were made for me as much as I was made for you. I have a vision of a man who is feeling this incompletion somewhere there, and I want you to know I feel it too. You don’t have to believe. I got it. I am coming.

And if I am wrong? If this is just a shout in an endless abyss? Well then, in the words of my dad (yet again) — I will either find you, or die trying, and then I won’t care cause I’ll be dead and the dead don’t care about much.

And on that sappy note, let’s talk about what this is going to be like. So many artists do their own version of “Morning Pages”. I will do my very best to write these letters to you. I cannot promise to do it every day, but I can promise you that I will not censor anything. I will show you the good, the bad, the ugly and all in between.

Can’t wait to meet you, 
Oxy.
March 11, 2026

Help me find him: Have you seen this man?