'Let the tarot cards choose your match': Read two writers' attempt at finding love using a psychic

Cosmopolitan

2 days ago

We're dressed to (mildly) impress, armed with charm, wit and just enough mascara to survive the light London drizzle. The two of us, Cosmo-colleagues-turned-IRL-friends, arrive fashionably late to our double date destination: a dimly lit cocktail bar, where we're meeting two finance bros sourced from a singular Hinge match.
Conversation flows, but not as well as the wine on tap, and halfway through the accompanying cheese board, we realise that we're more invested in each other (and the bread basket) than the men and their stories of childhood trauma, thinly disguised as banter.
We both want very different things from the evening… and neither of us leave satisfied. The golden retriever of the two of us (hi, that's me, Lia) is disappointed that her match, the cute boy-band-esque guy who she had already started planning a life with (three kids and two cats, specifically), doesn't ask any questions and is preoccupied with talking about his ex. And the black cat of our duo (Lydia here) is annoyed that the hot 'numbers guy' isn't actually that hot in person and there's zero sexual chemistry. They're nice enough, just 'would help you move a sofa but wouldn't make you laugh during the process' kind of nice.
As we wobble down the cobbled street, post-date and a little tipsy, knowing full well we don't want to see them again, we start theorising on ways to increase the likelihood of finding romantic connections. (Or maybe said theorising began in the bathroom after our second glass of wine? Semantics.)
'Maybe we take over each other's profiles' is an early suggestion, but seeing as we're both as unsuccessful as the other, we veto the idea. 'Is a run club on the cards?' It's a firm no from Lia. Our conversation then spirals and leads to all things star signs, the universe and, eventually, psychics. What if we're just not meant to be in charge of our love lives any more? What if the dating apps aren't broken… the universe just has other plans?
And that's when the cosmic stars align: maybe it's time to let someone with a crystal ball – and, depending on your outlook, questionable credentials – take the wheel. Could this be the key to finding a perfect match? In the interests of journalism (and preventing RSI on our swiping thumbs), we found out…
'So, am I going to meet my soulmate on one of these apps?' I ask with full optimism as I hand over my Hinge, Bumble and whatever's left of my dignity to Sharon, a psychic medium who is part of Psychic Sisters, a Kim Kardashian-approved group of readers, healers and therapists based in Selfridges' flagship store on Oxford Street. It's a fast, devastating plummet to reality when she simply answers, 'No. You're wasting your time, you're getting nowhere,' while eyeing me across the blue crystal table. I want to stop the meeting immediately. Cut the cameras – deadass. I want to delete every single dating app off my phone and reassess my entire love life. Because when the universe's most glamorous fortune cookie, who also happens to be a warm, motherly figure dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, is reading me like a book (she told me it was my grandma's spirit feeding her this information), I listen. I knew, before I even arrived on this wet March day, that I would believe whatever it was she had to say. As, when it comes to woo-woo, I am a full-on believer (thanks in large part to a once spookily accurate clairvoyant reading and an always-on-point weekly horoscope).
'But I am picking up that there is someone new coming in around you,' Sharon, thankfully, reassures me. Aaaand breathe. 'I'm seeing something organically coming into your life. Out and about in the sun. Are there summer parties? Are there events? Non-working ones, where you're socialising and enjoying yourself.' I can get behind this. I should have known to trust the all-knowing psychic woman, even if she is someone I have never met before. After all, the universe, moon, tarot cards, crystals and my black cat, Olive, are my religion.
That said, my friends are always telling me that I'm – get this – too trusting. In life, generally, but romance-wise, too. I put my faith in every and any guy who passes me by, and… it hasn't served me well.
I've googled 'How to deal with being ghosted' more than once, as the men that the algorithm gods have granted (I use 'granted' very loosely here, FYI) tend to match with me, then swiftly unmatch. And, while I like to think of myself as a boss ass biatch… it hurts a lot more than I even let on to my friends.
This is something Sharon, or the ghost (not the ones that I've found on the apps but the one she's chatting to), says I shouldn't dwell on too much. 'She [the ghost] is saying that you need to leave the past in the past,' Sharon explains. Well, that told me! And that a 'fresh, new energy is coming' means this should be easy… right?
'Why do I keep getting Glastonbury as well?' Sharon diverts. 'Oh my God!' I practically scream, 'I'm going to Glastonbury this summer.' I may not be meeting my future husband on a dating app, but I will be meeting him at Glasto, I decide. It chimes perfectly with Sharon's 'out and about in the sun' philosophy. 'And it's going to be sunny,' she confirms. Which, considering no one wants a mud-pit of a Glasto, is good news for everyone going, not just me and my future husband.
Still, despite predicting that he won't be found in my phone, Sharon offers to give me some pointers if I want to carry on dating until he arrives. She begins swiping through my matches and, immediately, cries out, 'Ugh?!' as we both make faces of disgust over who I have on there. And so, for the rest of the session, I forget that Sharon is a psychic and instead we kiki over potential dates. In the days that follow, I pursue the roster of men that Sharon suggested I date, but unfortunately, they lead to… nothing.
I decide to consult a second opinion from psychic Miraa on the Nebula astrology app. Sure, I'm no supernatural, but a glance at Miraa's profile – which says she has 10-plus years of experience, more than 17,800 consultations on the app and a 4.9/5 rating (at the time of writing) – tells me all I need to know: she has a good intuition. Oh, and to boot, she's wearing a chunky crystal necklace in her profile picture. Sold.
I send Miraa screen recordings of 10 recent Hinge and Bumble matches and ask for her opinion on whether they would be a good fit for me. But first, the all-important: 'Do you think I'll meet my lover on a dating app?' (I'm an impatient Leo, what can I say?)
'Your warmth, curiosity and charisma attract a lot of people around you,' Miraa types out to me over the chat function. 'When a person talks to you, communicates with you and understands you, that's how they would know you best. The chances are higher for you to find a romantic partner in person.'
This confirmation from Miraa is somewhat comforting. Her views align with Sharon's, so they must be on to something. 'Do you think I'm wasting my time on the dating apps?' I probe, to which she responds, 'Well, I can check your energies with each guy you have sent me.'
Brilliant! This will be interesting, I think to myself. Miraa first tells me that one of the boys is already in a relationship, she then questions another's sexuality (read: 'Are you sure he is straight?') and presumes that a strong contender (in my eyes) is a 'loner'. Unethical? Probably. Savage? Absolutely.
Even though Miraa wasn't fully convinced by any of the men (ultimately, she did say that love would find me with a real-life meeting), I gave a few of the ones she didn't completely rule out the benefit of the doubt – to exercise my flirting skills, as Sharon recommended. I sent messages to the whittled-down five, only to be met with three ghosts (shock) and a dwindling conversation that didn't go far enough for a date to manifest. But by good fortune, a cocktail with the 'loner' came to fruition.
So, we go for a couple of drinks and while the two pints of beer go down well, the conversation doesn't. There isn't so much as a romantic ember, let alone spark, to write home about, and we therefore conclude to stay 'friends'. Spoiler: we haven't spoken since.
The thing is, while Miraa was using her psychic abilities, she was also, like we all do, making swift judgments based on very little. You can't tell someone's sexuality, or if they're a 'loner', just from a photo. Nor should you. But we do. I do it to them, they do it to me. It's maddening to think my worth – my entire existence and opportunity for love – is reduced to a few curated photos and a bio that's equal parts humour and existential crisis. I've deleted and downloaded the apps time and time again, oscillating between enthusiastic optimism and flat-out despair. It's no wonder that I'm burned out; falling in love shouldn't feel like competing in a never-ending episode of Love Island: Thumb Edition.
While this experiment hasn't given me a simple solution to love, it has given me what I probably needed most of all – a bit of a breather. It's reminded me to be patient with myself (and with others) and to leave a bit of room for romance to find me, rather than hunting it down like an item on my to-do list that I just can't seem to get crossed off. So, although I do find myself every so often (typically on a Sunday evening) browsing through potential app matches, it's been nice to be reminded that they aren't the be-all and end-all. And neither is my Glastonbury knight in shining armour.
I do carry hope that he will find me and that the universe will gift me the best summer of my life. But maybe, no matter who I meet, that magic was always going to come my way.
It's 3pm and I'm sipping on a bottle of Sol in one of my favourite east-London pubs. On the cosy leather banquette next to me is my date for the afternoon, Toby*. He's cute – not my usual type, but he has an interesting job, makes good jokes and… comes recommended by two psychics.
When we made the decision to put our dating lives in the hands of psychics, I wasn't convinced. But then, I reasoned, I already succumb to a power I can't control: an algorithm that thinks I'm compatible with men who list 'crypto' as a hobby. So, I offset my scepticism with a 'what's the worst that can happen' attitude. Upon meeting my reader, Sheila (another member of Psychic Sisters), I'm instantly relaxed. She's more like your mum's friend who pops by for a cup of tea – no woo-woo vibes in sight.
Sheila offers me the tarot deck and I split the cards, of which she pulls nine out and starts telling me about my past. There are many elements of my story she (surprisingly) nails down to a tee – my overthinking and intensely analytical personality, for one. I think the words 'control freak' are also brought up. She also correctly identifies my desire for great chemistry; as she puts it, 'The way he speaks to you is very important. You wouldn't last five minutes with someone that couldn't communicate because you're a Chatty Cathy.' It's something I've never been able to put into words, but hearing it makes me realise so much more about myself and what I look for in a partner. She also nails it when it comes to understanding how I feel about PDA (usually a big no go), feeling seen during sex and wanting to spend time with people who are passionate about what they do.
However, ever the cynic, I start doubting her psychic abilities when she predicts I'm looking for a 'big love' and someone who is 'looking to marry, or someone to settle down with, or someone at least not scared of those things'. Right now, I'm not looking for a love of any size. Following a difficult breakup a few years ago, it's taken me a while to come back to the dating scene and I have no interest in starting a serious relationship with anyone. I like going on dates, meeting new people and having a flirt with a guy at the bar, but finding my soulmate and moving in with them, as she suggests I am going to in the next few months, is not part of my plan.
It almost feels to me (the cynic, hi!) like she's making a blanket reading, based on what she thinks I want to hear, based entirely on the fact I'm a single woman in her 20s. But the gender-based stereotype in which all women are looking for their soulmate and a serious relationship as the end goal couldn't be further from the truth for me.
Still, I show her my Hinge and Bumble matches. They're a mix of guys I've gone on dates with and ones I'm considering seeing. She instantly picks up on the energy of Max*, someone I'd gone for a drink with and was on the fence about seeing again. 'He's passionate. He's quite full-on. He has an inquiring mind, so he'd suit you on that level, but it's just how much substance there is there,' she says.
Then there's Oliver*. We'd had a good date, and he gave off easy-going vibes, but Sheila quickly warns, 'I think he gives across this image of very complete and very together, easy to talk to and easy to be with. But there's a little bit of a control element there.' It's surprising, as I usually deem myself a pretty good judge of character. (Side note: I continue speaking to Oliver over the next few weeks to test the theory. The control element never rears its ugly head, so was Sheila really picking up bad energy or was it just a punt that didn't land?)
We then get to new potential matches and I ask which two I should go on dates with. She rattles through them, giving verdicts on each in our remaining seven minutes, hilariously referring to the many shirtless guys as 'action men' (what can I say? I have a type) before settling on Toby and Jack*. She likes Toby because 'there's something sweet about him. He has a good sense of humour, he's genuine and down to earth. He's good-looking'. And Jack she suggests because, 'The people he cares about, he cares about very well. He has a very protective side. What you see is what you get.'
I send them both messages, and while I never hear back from Jack, the chat flows with Toby and we arrange a date. It's refreshingly easy and I question whether I've got it wrong. Maybe Sheila does know what she's talking about. To get a second opinion, I arrange a virtual chat with another psychic, Hillary, on Nebula. I send her photos of matches and she also likes Toby's vibe. She calls him a 'sweetheart' and thinks I'll enjoy 'his personality and he'll make [me] laugh'.
Both psychics are right, Toby does make me laugh and I enjoy chatting to him ahead of our date. However, there are warning signs for me. Namely, he's looking for a serious relationship. While that isn't a red flag in itself, of course, he's strict on the idea of not dating more than one person at once. As someone who used to put all their eggs in one basket, ignoring warning signs and carrying on with the relationship, I'm hesitant to do the same moving forwards. We're both open about this and agree to go on the date; after all, we might not like each other in real life.
The date starts off well. We talk about our weeks and the Game Of Thrones actor we spot heading into the pub garden behind us, and share a quick kiss. But then things get very serious. He brings up his boundaries and reveals a lot of past trauma. It's deep for a first date and, in fairness, I also open up on my own relationship history. We leave on a good note, but I come away from the whole thing feeling weighed down.
He seems committed to getting into a relationship, but it's too much and there's pressure to abandon what I want in order to date him. After a few days, I decide to send him (what I thought was) a polite message saying how great it was to meet him, but neither of us should feel obligated to give up our dating goals to make the other happy. Cue three voice notes barraging me for going on a date when I don't want a relationship and not telling him about it beforehand (I did). Playing them confirms I made the right decision.
Weeks later, Toby messages me out of the blue, asking if I've changed my mind. I don't reply, but it gets me thinking. Were the psychics right? In some ways, yes. There's a world in which, had I followed what they said blindly, I would have committed to dating Toby and getting into a serious relationship, as they predicted. But I know myself better than anyone, and I know that isn't what's best for me right now (especially not with someone so eager to put pressure on me to bend my own boundaries for the sake of theirs).
I'm grateful to my own inner soothsayer for cutting my losses early. And grateful to the psychics, and this experiment, for solidifying my belief that I'm nowhere near wanting a relationship. It's reminded me that when I do go searching, I'll carry on trusting my own intuition over anyone else's.
Lia Mappoura (she/her) is the Beauty Writer at Cosmopolitan UK. Covering everything from viral celebrity hair and makeup news to the latest trend predictions, she's an expert in recognising the season's next big beauty look (before it ends up all over your social media feeds). You'll usually find her putting TikTok's recent beauty hacks to the Hype Test, challenging the gender-makeup binary and social stereotypes, or fangirling over the time Kourtney Kardashian viewed her Instagram Story (yes, it's true). Find her also on LinkedIn.
Lydia Venn is Cosmopolitan UK's Senior Entertainment and Lifestyle Writer. She covers everything from TV and film, to the latest celebrity news. She also writes across our work/life section regularly creating quizzes, covering exciting new food releases and sharing the latest interior must-haves. In her role she's interviewed everyone from Margot Robbie to Niall Horan, and her work has appeared on an episode of The Kardashians. After completing a degree in English at the University of Exeter, Lydia moved into fashion journalism, writing for the Daily Express, before working as Features Editor at The Tab, where she spoke on BBC Radio 4's Woman's Hour and Talk Radio. She has an encyclopedic knowledge of Gilmore Girls and 00s teen movies, and in her free time can be found with a margarita in hand watching the Real Housewives on repeat. Find her on LinkedIn.