My best friend’s birthday was on Saturday. Another close friend’s was the Saturday before that. My dad’s is later this week. And so on. Most of the people I’ve ever fiercely loved have been Aries.
Having a decent working knowledge of astrology has made my life easier. I don’t put stock into daily horoscopes, but do believe the month and day we were born says a lot about our big-picture personalities and values. If I spend more than about an hour with someone I’ve just met, I ask when his or her birthday is, not because I’m promising to pay tribute to it but because it gives me a better sense of who I’m dealing with and how much longevity we have.
As part of a pickup line, an Aries once told me (a Libra) that Libras and Aries go well together. (Update: we did not. He has all of the bad Aries attributes, in addition to the bad attributes of many other zodiac signs.) Someone’s birthday falling under a certain sun sign doesn’t tell you the whole story (I’ve known flighty Virgos, codependent Aquarians, passive Leos) – you need to track down that person’s moon and rising signs to get the full scoop.
Sun signs still mean something. It’s no coincidence that those I gravitate toward and mesh the strongest with fall under the same 3 or 4 signs; or that those I clash the ugliest with fall under the same 1 or 2 signs. I entered my birthday (month, day, and nothing more - for example, if your birthday is March 31st, type in “March 31 Birthday Astrology”) into Google, clicked on the first search result, and read a profile of people born on that day. All I need to do the next time anyone asks me to describe myself is hand over a print-out of what I pulled up. Or send the link.