When Mars Squares Saturn in Synastry: How One Helmet Incident Blew Up a Cosmic Clash You Won’t Believe!
Added on May 17, 2025 inASTROLOGY CARDS
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It’s funny how the stars sometimes seem to script the wildest scenes in our own lives—like when Mercury in fiery Aries locks horns with a Mercury-Mars conjunction, and suddenly you’re starring in your own real-life drama called “Hot Tempers at The Bum Steer.” Imagine walking into the town’s biggest bar, nerves tangled because you’re not exactly on the up-and-up about your age, and bam—before you know it, you’re in the middle of a dance floor showdown that clears out the crowd faster than you can say “Astrological opposition!” Can a single night really test the limits of love, jealousy, and patience so fiercely that helmets fly and bikes get smashed? If you’ve ever wondered what happens when cosmic tensions spill over into barroom battles, you’re about to find out… and maybe think twice about what your own chart might be plotting when tempers flare. LEARN MORE.
My husband has Mercury in Aries, opposing my Mercury Mars conjunction. Hot tempers!
We were at, The Bum Steer, which was the most popular bar in our town. Being underage, I was always worried about getting carded, but it rarely happened. Seeing as I’m lying to my boyfriend about my age, I was particularly nervous, heading into the new city hotspot, but we made it in. Point being, I was in a heightened state.
It was our first time there. The place was cavernous. I’d never been in such a gigantic bar. I was looking around, trying to fathom it. I was a bartender, but not in a place like this!
It was early in the evening, but people were on the dance floor. We got a table and my boyfriend heads off to get us some drinks.
The minute he left, a man approached me. He was a customer in my bar. Yikes! I immediately went, Libra-job-mode. I have to be polite to customers, at least this is what I think.
When he asked me to dance, I say, “Sure!”. I figured my boyfriend would see and magically know why I was dancing with the guy, who was old, and ugly. To me, this was like his saluting someone he has to salute!
So I’m dancing with this guy and I see my husband, seeing what is happening. I can also see he’s pissed! I tried to signal him from the dance floor; this is my customer, but he’s not looking at me. Instead, he makes a beeline to some blonde, sitting at a table. He yanks her on to the dance floor and starts dancing right next to me. He’s not just dancing, he’s dancing sexily, Latin style, moving closer to her., with full intent to piss me off! Boy did I lose it!
I started yelling at him; he yelled back.
I yelled louder and so did he.
The people on he dance floor, exited the dance floor. I mean, we cleared it completely. People were scared. They ran from the dance floor, leaving us standing in the middle of it, yelling our heads off…while someone went to get the bouncers.
Seeing this, my boyfriend, ever the gentleman, communicates, we will finish this outside. Well, I can’t wait to do exactly that!
I headed straight for the door. He had to get our helmets. The bouncers in front were eyeing me, because I was berserk. I really don’t look like I can yell as loud as I can, never mind my obscenities! I think it jammed their senses.
I was outside, talking to some random man, who was trying to pick me up. I knew my boyfriend would see this. GOOD! He’s got the blonde. I’ve got this dude, right here. He’s not too shabby, either!
My boyfriend makes it out of the bar. He instantly rids me of the other man, and hands me my helmet… which I start swinging at him, with fury!
The bouncers come to tackle me, but he indicates, not only is this not a problem; if they touch me, he will fight them. And he can finish this story., from here. I’d asked for details as my memory was a blur.
“You were swingin’ it hard, too” he said.
“I bet. Where did I swing it? High or low? Did I swing it at your head (Mars)? Or at your crotch (Also Mars)? :
“Both! You were trying to hurt me,” he said. “You were going to kill me.”
“I imagine.”
“But I ducked. I got out of the way. Lucky thing I’m pretty fast because you’re fast too and you were pissed. You were pissed off, baaaad. You were madder than hell at me.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Sorry, man.”
“It’s okay. No problem. But then when you couldn’t get me, you were going to go for my bike. My bike! You were going to beat the hell out of it. And you did smash it pretty good,” he said.
“I know, I know. I can’t believe I got away with that. Why did you let me get away with that?”
“Oh hell. I loved you. You could have done anything you wanted, pretty near. It wouldn’t have mattered. I was in love with you, Els. It wasn’t that big a deal. I stopped you. We got calmed down and we went straight to breakfast after that. Remember?”
“No.”
Well, we did. And we were back in the sack an hour later like nothing ever happened. It was no big deal. No big deal at all…”
~~~~
This is a few days later… he also has his Saturn squaring my Mars. The orb is wide, thank God!
We lived together, at this point, for the most part. But he had his place in the barracks too, for when we fought.
I was hoping he would show up like nothing happened, but he didn’t. That weekend, I called him at the barracks. They only had one phone on the wall, for all the men to share. Someone had to go outside and get him.
“You’re coming aren’t you?” I asked.
“No, I’m not coming there,” he announced.
“What do you mean, you’re not coming here? What are you doing?” I asked, wanting to get my way, by whatever means.
“What do you mean, what am I doing? What do you think I’m doing? I’m fixing my bike. You beat it up, remember? You do remember you smashed my bike up don’t you?”
“Er… so you’re fixing it? You can do that?” I was horny, see. As always. And you can see what I’m finding out here. I am to be deprived of sex. It’s his Saturn, square my Mars.
“Yeah, I can do that. I can do everything. You think I don’t know how to fix a bike?” he asked.
“No, no. You probably know…” (See how I kiss ass?) “So how long is that going to take? An hour?” I was trying to hurry him. A Taurus. Nothing stupider in the world…
“What do you mean, an hour? An hour?” he said with his twang. “This going to take me a lot longer than an hour… ”
He explained he was going to have to take off the gas tank, get the dent… putty, sand, paint, let the paint dry, paint again… I got the message.
“Okay, so you’re telling me you’re going to be all day? Is what you’re saying?” I asked, knowing what he was saying, but hoping to weaken his will.
“That’s what I’m saying. I’m going to be all day and maybe tomorrow too,” he said, smugly.
“Tomorrow?” I said, whining. My crotch will try anything.
“Tomorrow. Hey! If you wanted to see me, you shouldn’t have smashed my bike. So don’t you complain. You know where I want to be. You know I’d be over there right now. Where do I spend every weekend? We spend the weekends together, always. You know I want to be with you. Do you think I want to be fixing this bike? Hell no! I want to be with you, don’t I? But thanks to you, we’re not going to see each other today, and don’t you pout. Because it’s your fault. You’re the one who gave me this problem, didn’t you?”
“You can still drive it,” I said, not giving up. “Dents don’t make it not run.”
“No I can’t. I’m not riding around on a smashed up bike. Are you crazy? I don’t care what you say. I gotta go, Els. I gotta fix this bike. And the sooner you let me get started the sooner I’ll get over there.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “If you’re lucky,” he added. “If you’re lucky you’ll get to see me tomorrow. And if this takes me the whole weekend, then that’s what it takes. Because I’m not going to rush. I’m going to take my time and do a good job and maybe next time maybe you’ll think before you go smashing my bike.”
“Er… okay. Okay, fine then.”
So there you go. Down comes the Saturn hammer.
My husband had gone to high school in Brazil, prior to joining the Air Force. Regarding this incident, he told me how happy he was about it. He said, coming home from Brazil, he found American women to be bland. He missed, fiery women and he thought this was fun.
Today, when I get really pissed off, I quit cooking for him.
When I do this, he quits eating, completely.
He wins, because I’m Italian. I can’t have hungry people in my home and he knows this. We can hold out for up to three days.
We can do this, in spite of having no recollection, why we’re mad. Sometimes we have to burn off the excess and we both know it.
As for back in the day. we never went to The Bum Steer, again…not that they’d have let us in! I never tried to kill anyone again and I never smashed another bike.
On his end, he never did anything to make me jealous, again. In fact, he avoids it like the plague.
We now tell this story at dinner parties. He always stands up and demonstrates his dodging skills and then runs in slow motion, reaching, to reenact his trying to get to his bike, before my helmet connects. It’s funny, but the way two hearts, burning, can erupt into a fireball, is something we had to grapple with.
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