It’s only been three weeks since Jupiter entered Scorpio, but I’m already feeling it. The strong surge of dormant hidden emotions that I haven’t felt in over seven years. Jupiter in Libra was easier on my Venus in the 8th house. As any astrologer will tell you – the 8th house is no walk in the park. It’s a house that inspires fear and hatred – especially to those who don’t understand or aren’t prepared for its highly potent energy.
The 8th house is where we hide things we don’t want to talk about. Our fears and limitations. Our taboo desires. Our unspoken anger. It’s the home of our secret self: all the stuff we hide under the rug because we can’t bear the thought of anyone knowing about it. But it is in dealing and transforming the 8th house energy that we liberate ourselves from our shadow. It is only then that we can truly live honest and genuine lives that we are proud of. The 8th house can either be a place full of those skeletons in the closet or a house of deep and profound purity. It’s your call.
Most of us sweep things under the rug for the sake of appearances. We hide things that are seemingly unpleasant. In fact, society, our peers and our parents encourage it. It’s easy to pretend – to lie to yourself and do what’s expected of you. It’s much harder to look in the mirror and truly accept what’s there – especially when it’s our shadow that stares back at us.
But we cannot change what is so deeply and profoundly woven into the fabric of ourselves.
He’s sitting across from me in a cafe. We’re talking – I’m not sure about what. We move from one topic to the next without finishing what we were talking about. The conversation flows naturally – which is strange considering the hard and hot blood that’s pumping through every inch of me. The heat is in my ears. In my neck. In the pit of my stomach and flowing all through me. To tell you the truth, the conversation we’re having isn’t particularly exciting. We’re talking about work. Movies. Books. Our hobbies. Our plans for the future. The usual getting-to-know-each-other stuff. It’s only the second time we’ve met but it feels like I’ve known him for a long time. He feels oddly familiar: like an old friend in a new mould.
There’s activity all around me, but my attention is entirely focused on him. There is nothing and no one else in the room that interests me. I’m like that when I’m into someone. Unlike Venus in Aries, Gemini and Aquarius that are all about the flirtation, variety and the thrill of the chase – Venus in the 8th wants who it wants and never wavers. When you have me, you have all of me. And when I have you, I better have all of you. Betray my devotion or mistake it for weakness and I’ll bury you. Scorpio spite and scorn is legendary. But that’s another story for another day.
I’m drawn to his dark eyes. They look older than the rest of his face. Two old and deep wrinkles run halfway down his face whenever he smiles. And it’s a beautiful smile. The kind of smile that’s so heartwarming that I keep thinking up jokes just so I can see him laugh. Yea, I know. Don’t judge me. And while I’m in the middle of trying to make him smile yet again, he reaches forward and runs his fingers through my hair. He inadvertently tucks my long hair behind my ear. I really wish he hadn’t done that. Whenever I feel as hot as I do now, my ears turn red. And of course, he notices. He’s very observant.
“It’s cute that you like me,” he says.
I laugh. Direct. To the point. I like that. The blood rushes to my face. I want to do that thing that girls do – bury their face in their hands and giggle uncontrollably. But instead I give him a lopsided knowing smile, my evasive response giving away my feelings.
“Do you always fight yourself when you like someone?” he asks.
He’s observant and… perceptive. No – I didn’t always fight myself when I liked someone. There was a time when I used to wear my heart on my sleeve. When I loved openly and freely. But those days are long gone. I know that emotions are wonderful gifts. I also know that they left me too open and vulnerable. That’s how I got my heart broken. That’s how we get our hearts broken. Love is sometimes unrequited. Love is sometimes abused. And like all valuable things, love is sometimes taken for granted.
“I’m not fighting my feelings for you,” I tell him. “I’m just old enough and experienced enough to know better than to throw it around and pour it in places where it will neither be respected nor reciprocrated.”
He nods and smiles at me. Those old eyes and that young face showing a glimmer of shared understanding.
“I can respect that,” he says. “And don’t worry your weary heart. I like you, too.”
I smile. It’s nice that he said it. But he didn’t need to. I already knew. I wouldn’t be feeling the way I did if the feeling wasn’t mutual. That’s the thing about the 8th house and Scorpio energy – feelings and emotions only grow to that intensity if they are shared.
“So where do we go from here?” he asks.
“We take it slow and take time to get to know each other.”
“That would be wise.”
And just like that the next few hours go by. Me getting to know him. Him getting to know me. There’s something very nurturing about him. He’s one of those guys who just notices the little things. He does what needs to be done without me having to say anything. It’s refreshing. Rare. Despite all the intense emotions he’s inspiring me, I feel very comfortable with him. I feel at home. At ease.
Our time goes by too quickly – and then it’s time to go. Say goodbye. That type of thing. I really don’t want to – but I have someplace else to be. As it is, I’d actually scheduled him in between two work appointments.
I take a deep breath. All that heat and blood that is surging through my veins simmers into a warm glow. I lean forward. I can smell his cologne all tangled up in his natural scent. I rub my nose slightly on his cheek before I kiss it gently. I do it wanting nothing but to express my affection. As I move away, I notice I’ve left my dark plum lipstick mark on his face.
“What was that?” he asks coyly.
“Just an innocent kiss,” I say.
“There is never anything innocent about a first kiss.”
I smile. Guilty as charged. The first kiss is always a promise of everything that’s to come.
“I’ve left my lipstick mark on you,” I say.
“Happy for you to leave your mark on me anytime.”
The blood rushes to my face. Again. He laughs. Do I have to be so damn obvious? Japan is not a place for public displays of affection – let alone be seen walking around with a huge lipstick mark. I thought he would get annoyed and wipe it off – as men often do when there’s makeup involved. But he couldn’t care less.
“So,” I say. “Are you going to return the favour?”
He laughs and smiles.
“I like that you always ask for what you want,” he says as he begins to lean forward.
I take a deep breath. For a long time now, I’ve felt dead inside. I meet so many men all the time but I’d given up on the idea that I would be able to feel anything for anyone. No matter what they do, I’ve felt dead inside. Even on the occasion when I did grow to care, it was out of duty, not desire. But in a matter of hours, he awakens the dormant volcano in me that I thought was long dead. And as his lips touch mine, I know it’s only a matter of time before it explodes.