Everybody on those astrology websites and dating apps acts like the Cancer guy and the Pisces girl match is some kind of destiny. Two water signs, right? All emotional and deep and feeling things nobody else gets. They call it the soulmate connection. Let me stop you right there. I’ve been through it. Trust me, it’s not a soulmate connection; it’s two people trying to navigate a ship made entirely of fog.
The Initial Plunge
I met her when things were seriously confusing for me. My whole routine got messed up. I had just finished moving my entire life out of one apartment and was couch-surfing for a few weeks waiting for the new lease to kick in. I was working too much, sleeping too little, and felt like my roots were just yanked right out of the ground. I needed comfort, simple as that.
Then she showed up. A total Pisces. Dreamy eyes, always thinking about something philosophical, and she just got my moods without me even saying anything. I swear, the first week felt like a year of knowing someone. We skipped the small talk completely. It was straight into talking about our deepest fears and what our childhood trauma looked like. We were inseparable, like two magnets that had finally found each other after a long, lonely journey.
Everything moved too fast. I thought that was a sign it was right. No friction, just pure, immediate, emotional fusion. Everyone I knew said we were cute, that we were perfect because we were both so sensitive. They were looking at the surface, though. They didn’t see the mess bubbling underneath.
Drowning in Feelings
The honeymoon phase was over within three months, and that’s when the water started getting choppy. It turns out that having two people who process everything through feeling is a terrible idea for building a stable life. My natural Cancer tendency is to retreat into the shell when I feel slighted, right? I withdraw, I sulk, I wait for her to coax me out.
- She didn’t coax me out.
- She retreated further than I did.
- She’d start crying because I was sulking.
- I’d get mad that she was crying instead of helping me.
It was a constant competition of who was the most hurt. We never had a single fight about money, or chores, or where we were going for dinner. It was always about some unspoken slight, some perceived distance, or some tone of voice that one of us found deeply offensive. I remember one time, I spent the whole night on the couch just because she made a joke about my mom’s cooking. She meant it as a light jab, but I took it as a personal attack on my entire ancestral line. That’s how dramatic it got, both of us wallowing in our own private lakes of woe.
She had her own set of problems, too. She was always trying to “save” someone—a stray dog, a messed-up friend, or me. But if I didn’t accept the help exactly how she thought I should, she’d flip into a victim role, feeling like nobody appreciated her. I tried to be supportive, but my emotional energy was already maxed out just trying to keep my own head above water.
The Hard Realization
It sounds romantic on paper, two people feeling everything together. In reality, it was just exhausting. I wasn’t dating a partner; I was dating a high-tide event. Every conversation was either the highest high or the lowest low. There was no middle ground, no calm sandbar to rest on.
The breakup wasn’t one big explosion. It was a slow, deliberate leakage. We just got waterlogged. We couldn’t see clearly anymore because our vision was blurred by our own constant tears and paranoia. I officially ended it eight months in, and I spent the next three months just trying to figure out what was real and what was manufactured drama.
I only got my current gig—the one that actually pays the bills and keeps me sane—because I made a conscious decision to get away from anything highly emotional. I needed a solid, earth-based structure to function. That whole Pisces experience proved to me that when you combine two people with the same massive vulnerability, you don’t get strength; you get fragility. So, before you dive into that “soulmate” connection, just make sure you’ve got a life vest, because neither of you knows how to swim in that much water
