Look, let’s get straight to it. Everyone who’s ever gotten a bad rap in a relationship, especially us Pisces folks, knows that moment. That feeling like you’ve tried everything, you’ve given too much, and somehow it always ends up messy and confusing. It was like I was repeating the same pattern over and over, just with different people.
I hit my wall, like, three years ago. Broke up with a Gemini—yeah, I know, classic mistake, but whatever—and I was just done with guessing. The typical advice was just noise. Everyone said “Cancer” or “Scorpio” is your soulmate, but I’d dated both, and honestly, they were all drama and silent treatments. I needed actual data, real records. I decided right then I was going to find the real answer, not the glossy magazine answer.
The Messy Deep Dive: Cataloging the Universe
I started with my own chart, obviously. Sun, Moon, Rising, Venus—all that jazz. But one chart is useless. That’s just a theory. The practice needed people. I pulled out an old spreadsheet I used for tracking budgets and just re-purposed the whole thing.
My first practical step was gathering names and birthdays. I wasn’t subtle, either. I went through old address books, Facebook, even dug up old work contacts. Anyone I knew who was a Pisces, I needed their details. I had to dig around for their birth times and locations too, which was a whole separate hustle, calling family members and dropping vague hints. It was a commitment.
The spreadsheet eventually had about sixty Pisces entries. For each one, I dedicated columns to:
- Their Sun, Moon, and Venus signs.
- Their ‘Best Long-Term Partner’s’ Sun Sign.
- Their ‘Worst Breakup’s’ Sun Sign.
- A simple ‘Notes’ column for the relationship dynamic (e.g., “Too clingy,” “Always fighting for the spotlight,” “Silent but supportive”).
This process of compiling and cross-referencing took me about six months of serious logging. I was trying to find a pattern, something that showed up more consistently than the alleged “water sign connection.”
The Detour That Became My Proof
You know how I know this stuff cold? Not from some textbook. I know it because this project completely derailed my career. At the time, I was holding down a decent, predictable job in logistics. Very structured. Very left-brained. And here I was, obsessing over cosmic connections.
I started missing deadlines. When I wasn’t missing them, I was slipping astrology terms into conversations with my manager. I remember one meeting where I kept talking about the ‘harmonious Saturn return’ a client was due for, trying to explain why their shipment would be late. Yeah. Stupid, I know, but I was deep in the matrix.
My manager finally pulled me aside and told me I needed a ‘mental health break,’ which was polite corporate speak for, ‘You’re fired.’ My final paycheck was literally cut off, and my access badge stopped working that same afternoon. It was brutal. I was on the street, no income, holding a useless spreadsheet full of star signs. I was furious, scared, and honestly, a little embarrassed.
That forced me to make a choice. I needed money, and I had all this data. So, I figured, why not just finish the research and try to monetize the actual findings? I pivoted hard. I started doing chart analyses for friends of friends, just charging twenty bucks a pop to help make rent. I had to eat, right? This messy, accidental career shift forced me to stare at the data daily, for a year straight, turning me into a reluctant expert.
The Real Compatibility Lesson
After all that sweat, all the late nights running correlations, and all the career chaos, the data gave me a completely different picture than the one the Internet sells you. The famous ‘soulmates’ were usually the shortest, most volatile relationships in my log. They flared up and burned out. The signs everyone writes off were the ones that actually stuck. They were the consistent ones, the real-world anchors.
The best compatible sign for Pisces, based on my data, wasn’t a water sign at all. It was Taurus.
I know, right? Shocking. But they kept showing up in the “Best Long-Term Partner” column. These were the people providing structure, real support, and an actual grounding force to the classic flaky, emotional Pisces energy. The notes section said things like, “Made me pay bills on time,” or “Doesn’t care about my mood swings,” or “Just cooks dinner and lets me process.”
I had to accept the raw data, even though it was completely against what I started out believing. My practice taught me that sometimes, the true soulmate isn’t the one who shares your element and your drama—it’s the one who forces you to keep two feet on the ground. Go look at your own history. You might be surprised when you run the numbers yourself.
