THE ASTROMATES... Chapter 8...Part 1.

A continuation of my book.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE LIBRA EXPERIENCE
                 
"How’s the head now?" asked Alex as I walk through the door.
"Still a bit sore when I touch it and the bloody hair doesn’t seem to be growing back."
I turned so Alex could see for himself.
"Nasty, nasty." he grimaced. "But at least you’re back and ready for action."
To be honest my enthusiasm for the job had waned somewhat, although I was in dire need of some extra cash. You know the old saying… ‘Unlucky in love, lucky with cards’… Or something like that? Well, it’s a load of crap! As you know, I’ve had six attempts at getting a shag. (That’s the male sense of the word ‘Love’, it’s all about a bunk-up as any red-blooded male will tell you!) Nothing came my way, not a sniff. So I assumed, being unlucky with love, I would be lucky taking a gamble with the workmen who were engaged on an extension next door to me. I joined them in their daily card session and guess what? You’ve guessed it, I came away skint, as poor as the proverbial church-mouse. The last hand I held was a belter, unbeatable. I bet all that I had and more, even going so far as to propose that, if I lost, (Which I couldn’t see!) I would allow the men to use my flat as their tea-room, with me supplying all the necessities, until their work next door was complete. Do I need to tell you what happened? The little ginger twerp of a labourer now lays on my bed while the rest of the gang drink my tea and finish off my chocolate cookies. I even had to leave them with my keys so they could get in if I happened to be out during the day! Still, you can’t argue with five strapping men, can you, no more than you can welch on a bet! So here I was, a hole in my head, a hole in the sole of my left shoe and not a penny to my name. Alex seemed as bright as a button. Having not seen him over the past recuperative weeks, one might have expected some kind of change. But no, it was the same old Alex, dark brown corduroys, holey cardie and greying tousled hair falling over watery blue eyes. Nor was there any change to the papers which littered desk and floor of the small, cramped, office.
"Do you remember, before you went out on that fateful voyage to meet Nurse Allison? Remember I told you the Virgo needed to be needed?"
Of course I remembered. I needed to be reminded like a hole in my head. What did he think I suffered from, bloody amnesia! I know you must be thinking why do I carry on with this scatterbrain scheme but the devil drives and its Alex who plays the tune. I’m just the pauper who has to dance to his tune.
"I do remember you saying that, Alex." I said.
"Well, as the Virgo has an instinctive urge to be needed, the Libran lady has this same desire to be liked. So strong, in fact, is this desire, that she will always greet you like this." (Here, Alex stood up, a stupid-wide grin on his face, arms crucified out, palms showing.). I could only stare at him perplexed. Nobody I know ever stood like that, he looked like Satan.
"What am I doing?" he asked, posing again.
"Making a bloody fool of yourself. You only need a cape, you could pass for Dracula."
"Don’t be silly, old boy. Say what you see."
"I’ve just told you, Alex. Other than that, I haven’t got a clue."
"I’m being disarming. See!"
He pointed to his mouth as he spoke, a ventriloquists dummy in pain.
"See how I smile?" he went on, "Showing empty-handedness. I show I carry no weapons, inoffensive, pure Libra."
"Well I’m a Libran." I said. "And I don’t go round acting like that. I’d get arrested if I went round greeting people like Dracula".
"All I am expressing," said Alex, returning to normal, "Is the Libran desire to be accepted as one who dislikes violence, wars and disharmony. That’s why Librans smile a lot."
In a way it was true. I, as a Libran, hated violence and people with aggressive natures. (But that was mainly because I was born cowardly. Do you know, when I was first born, my mother swore I looked just like a lump of soft cheese, I was so yellow!). But I did try hard to get people to like me, agreeing with almost anything to keep the peace. I remember once, at school, when a lad I hardly knew, turned round and told me he didn’t like me, for no reason at all. It took me ages to get over that hurt; even now it grieves me to remember the incident, being disliked. I shook my head to evade the memory.
"So what’s the difference between the male and the female?" I asked, concentrating on the present.
"The male," Alex began, "Is something of a romantic, although he might well go over the top if he becomes unbalanced. He considers himself to be the ‘Peace-Keeper’, the ‘Law-Maker’, even the ‘Law-Breaker’, if he considers the law to be unjust. Let’s just call him ‘The Umpire’."
"What about the female Libran then? There’s no way I want to become involved with a woman who becomes unbalanced and flips her lid while I’m around."
"No chance, dear boy." said Alex, steadying my nerves. "Generally, your Libran lady is a social butterfly. Like all Air-Signs, Gemini and Aquarius, Libra needs to communicate, flutter her eyelashes as she moves from one person to another, her intentions always harmonious."
"So she’s flirtatious and likes to relate in a friendly manner." I said.
"That’s correct, old bean. Unless, of course, you come up against someone like Margaret Thatcher!"
"Is she a Libran?" I asked, surprised.
"Of course she is but, I feel, one must take her Scorpio Rising into consideration when dealing with her nature."
"What’s Scorpio Rising?"
"Let’s not get into that right now, old son. Let’s just concentrate on the basic traits of Libra at the moment."
"Fine by me," I said, "After all, you are the master."
Alex smiled his superior smile, acknowledging that he was, indeed, the master.
"Quite right too." he said. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes, as I said, the female likes to talk, plus keep everybody on her side. It’s a fine balancing act. It has to be understood that Venus, the Ruling planet of Libra, is not love in a sexual sense. It implies more friendly and open relationships, love in the finer sense of the word."
Now, that’s the last thing I wanted to hear! As far as I was concerned, Venus and Mars were the symbols of baby-making; a part of the plan seemed to be missing!
"Hang on just a dang minute, Alex. Are you telling me I won’t be getting any whoopee on my date with the Libran female? Just a nights talking over a friendly cup of tea without any sweeteners?"
Alex gave me a stern look.
"Your Libran lady is not one to be rushed off to some Neolithic cave by an Ape-man carrying a club. She has to be charmed, engaged in some sweet-talk, related to, communicated with."
"That’s all very well, Alex, but you know I’m no sweet-talking guy. I could have six spoonfuls of sugar in my tea and still have a bitter taste when it comes to chatting up women."
"Look at it like this, dear boy, when it comes to love, your Libran lady seeks fair play and will make fair game if the way you handle her justifies settlement."
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Alex is often inclined to wax so lyrical that one loses the thread of conversation. Was he saying I had to use some kind of butterfly net to capture the ladies’ heart?
"So how do I get this piece of crumpet into bed, Alex?"
Alex winced at my choice of words. I found the best way to get any sense out of him was to shock him with gutter-speech.
"Ah now, there’s the rub." said Alex, after coming to terms with my crudeness.
Yep, I knew it, the giant bluebottle was forcing its way through the lid of the ointment jar, ready to mess my life up once again!
"What is it this time, Alex? Some tiny derangement in the Libra females’ head which triggers off at midnight? Is she the one who is covered with thick coconut-mat hair, so you can’t find the entrance to the ‘Magic Cave’? Is she…"
"Shut up! Shut up!" shouted Alex.
I shut up.
"Now let’s not have any more butting in, shall we? Let’s have some decorum."
I wanted to ask if decorum was the name of my next date. Decorum Intercourse! That name had a nice ring to it. If it didn’t do anything for others, it certainly rung bells for me. I said nothing, getting my eyes and ears into attention mode.
"The problem is, as I’ve previously mentioned, the Libran lady likes a partner she can communicate with, someone who can hold a conversation, someone intelligent and well-read."
Well that lets me out, I thought. The nearest I ever got to serious reading was, once, when I borrowed Lady Chatterley’s Lover as a youngster, only to read the dirty bits. Alex had stopped talking, noting my thoughts had drawn a veil over my eyes. Waiting till my attention was centered again, he proceeded… "While she needs a communicative partner, the Libran also needs someone, a partner who will wine and dine her, give her music, love and romance."
"Let’s face the music and dance." I completed the words of the song, giving Alex leave to give me a look of intense irritation. I quickly apologised.
"The point is." said Alex, regaining composure. "It is almost impossible to find a man with both qualities at the same time. On the one hand you will have the intellectual, the brain-box who could thrill the Libran lady with his wit and clever speech while, on the other, you have the Casanova, the romantic with the chocolate-box and charm who’s also a scallywag. If you ever do come across the well-read, communicative, charmer, you can bet your bottom dollar, he’s either out to rob the girl or simply communicate just how charming he is, no good to man or beast!"
For all his rhetoric, Alex was giving a clearer picture of the Libran lady’s needs. As she is depicted by the ‘Scales’, she needs to be balanced, that means she would need two partners, one on each arm to balance her out. I made this point to Alex but he shook his head in disagreement.
"She needs three." he said.
Three? Now that’s just being plain bleeding greedy!
"Why three?" I asked.
"One of the biggest problems the lady has is making decisions. Shall I buy this dress or that one? Shall I go here or there? Shall I go with the brainy one or the romantic one?"