Relationships Talk

Can you blame him? Christina El Moussa’s British beau, Ant Anstead, celebrated the royal wedding of Prince Harry and Duchess Meghan by revealing that he reportedly texted the 33-year-old former military pilot for dating advice.

The 39-year-old TV presenter took to Instagram during the televised nuptials to post a heartfelt message to the newlyweds — and ended it with a tease. “Ps. I text Harry a few months ago asking for tips for dating a Yank,” Anstead joked. “His reply will be kept secret!!!!!!!)”

Anstead, who started dating the Flip or Flop star, 34, at the beginning of this year, also noted in the caption that Harry “is a proper fella!”

He added: “Lost his mum as a kid, fought in the army, stands for tons of charities and instrumental in the Invictus games plus so so so much more! And aside from all of that is a cheeky chap with a great sense of humour who truly represents a current and modern 21st century royal! Hats off to you.”

While the Duke and Duchess of Sussex were tying the knot in front of 600 guests at St George Chapel at Windsor Castle — and millions watching worldwide — El Moussa and Anstead celebrated his British roots together in honor of the royal couple.

Anstead posted an adorable picture of himself with his reality TV girlfriend with the caption: “We are guests of the British Consulate General in LA at a garden party celebrating the Royal Wedding. I’m slowly teaching @christinaelmoussa some Britishness….. today it’s Pimms, scones jam and cream, cucumber sandwiches and tea. Along with some etiquette! She’s doing really well.”

El Moussa was previously married to Tarek El Moussa before splitting in December 2016 after seven years of marriage.

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Can you blame him? Christina El Moussa’s British beau, Ant Anstead, celebrated the royal wedding of Prince Harry and Duchess Meghan by revealing that he reportedly texted the 33-year-old former military pilot for dating advice.

The 39-year-old TV presenter took to Instagram during the televised nuptials to post a heartfelt message to the newlyweds — and ended it with a tease. “Ps. I text Harry a few months ago asking for tips for dating a Yank,” Anstead joked. “His reply will be kept secret!!!!!!!)”

Anstead, who started dating the Flip or Flop star, 34, at the beginning of this year, also noted in the caption that Harry “is a proper fella!”

He added: “Lost his mum as a kid, fought in the army, stands for tons of charities and instrumental in the Invictus games plus so so so much more! And aside from all of that is a cheeky chap with a great sense of humour who truly represents a current and modern 21st century royal! Hats off to you.”

While the Duke and Duchess of Sussex were tying the knot in front of 600 guests at St George Chapel at Windsor Castle — and millions watching worldwide — El Moussa and Anstead celebrated his British roots together in honor of the royal couple.

Anstead posted an adorable picture of himself with his reality TV girlfriend with the caption: “We are guests of the British Consulate General in LA at a garden party celebrating the Royal Wedding. I’m slowly teaching @christinaelmoussa some Britishness….. today it’s Pimms, scones jam and cream, cucumber sandwiches and tea. Along with some etiquette! She’s doing really well.”

El Moussa was previously married to Tarek El Moussa before splitting in December 2016 after seven years of marriage.

When I throw a casual “my therapist said” into conversation, I usually get one of three reactions: a quiet “did she really just say that?” look of discomfort, an enthusiastic “SAME!” assertion of solidarity, or a tired “can you stop talking about your therapist so much” eye roll of support and annoyance from a best friend. I live in New York, where I sometimes forget that talking about therapy could ever be taboo, but I didn’t always feel so comfortable sharing the fact that I talk to a stranger about my problems.

I first decided to go see a therapist in 2011 or 2012. My acting teacher had recommended that all of his students go see someone, because “acting isn’t therapy, therapy is therapy.” (Yes, I am a walking New York stereotype. Yes, I am currently wearing all black.)

I followed a trail of therapist recommendations from that acting teacher, and eventually began seeing a woman who I still see to this day. Ironically, my relationship with my therapist is the longest relationship I’ve ever had (outside of those with friends and family). Of course, it’s a very particular and different kind of intimacy than that of a romantic relationship, but interestingly enough, I think it is the relationship that has helped me open up in the actual romantic relationships in my life.

When I first started seeing my therapist, who is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW) who practices Jungian, or analytical, talk therapy (specifically developed by the Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung). Without getting too deeply into Jung’s theories, this means that I see a therapist weekly and talk very freely to her. She asks questions and gives advice, but there’s a lot of me talking about anything, especially in my first few years of therapy.

At first, I felt strange taking up this space each week — nothing major was going wrong in my life. I felt embarrassed about the privilege I had to take an hour a week to talk about my little problems. I even found material in it, writing an internet series about sharing a therapist with two friends (true story). I quickly had to become willing to share the fact that I went to therapy, because part of our pitch for the series was “we really all had the same therapist!” I became increasingly comfortable with the fact that I took the time to invest in some mental self-care each week. I also started to learn that while my problems seemed small, there were a lot of major reasons for some of them.

Through the years, my therapist has helped me navigate career decisions, anxiety and depression, my mother’s re-diagnosis with breast cancer, and eventually, her passing. My therapist has also helped me navigate heartbreak, paranoias, and little annoyances with friends. But above all, one of the greatest gifts I’ve gained from therapy has been a sense of confidence and control over my life that I never had, especially when it comes to romantic relationships.

In my first few years of therapy, I complained about being single a lot, and I was eager to grab some specific tools or exercises from my therapist that would magically transform my loneliness into a perfect relationship. But while magic doesn’t exist, I found that speaking to someone who did not know me outside of these weekly sessions was an incredibly helpful way to start thinking about why I struggled to commit to partners.

I have always shied away from intimate relationships. During my early twenties, I ran from what was working due to fear, and ran towards what couldn’t ever work out because of my love of self-flagellation. (Sort of kidding.) I turned all of these experiences this into a story I told myself about how unlovable I was, and how I would never end up in a happy relationship because no one was going to “pick me.”

I dated men who I knew were moving away soon, or who would be as emotionally unavailable to me as I was to them. When I did find myself in a relationship with someone who cared for me and wanted to take things more seriously, I made sure to sabotage it by becoming mean, or simply ending it. Therapy slowly showed me that while I diagnosed myself as “unlovable,” I was actually entirely terrified of intimacy and a bit of a commitment-phobe myself.

Deciding to see a therapist did not suddenly fix all of my issues, but talking to someone who constantly reminds me that I have every right to take up space and make decisions in any relationship weekly has given me a confidence that has completely changed my view on dating. She has reminded me that I can “pick” too — I can decide what I want and do not want in relationships. I don’t need to wait for anyone to pick me.

To some this may seem ridiculous, but it has taken me years to reframe this story I have told myself, and I wouldn’t feel as confident as I do today without therapy. I also think that the simple act of taking time each week to dedicate to myself in therapy subconsciously taught me to take up more space and be OK with it.

When I lost my mom almost exactly one year ago after a 10-year off-and-on, always fiercely brave battle with breast cancer, I lost a huge part of myself. I felt lost, I felt anxiety and loneliness at levels I had never experienced, and I couldn’t (and still can’t) sleep. As time passed, I also felt a sense of urgency. A sense of “what would my mom do?” and a realization that life really does only happen once, and that it was time to go after the things that I wanted.

When I was ready to date again, my therapist challenged me to go on 100 first dates. Yes, 100. She thought it would get me to break my bad habit of getting hung up on relationships that would never work out, and the general dating malaise I was feeling. I had dated plenty in New York, but it was the kind of dating that goes on for at least two months (or sometimes years). I had never just gone on a buttload of first dates. Since I am always looking for new opportunities, I decided to heed her advice, but swapped 100 dates for 51, so that I could turn the dating experiment into a podcast with my friend and not rip off the Drew Barrymore/Adam Sandler classic, 50 First Dates. Oh also, 51 is much more manageable.

Our podcast is called “51 First Dates,” I’ve gone on 28 of them since the experiment began last August, and I’ve never felt more confident or in control of my dating life. I’ve also never felt so able to allow the kindness from men into my life. Going on dates regularly in order to put myself out there, especially after a very difficult year, has been the active step that I’ve needed to finally open the eff up and wake the eff up to be able to say, “While I like you a lot, if you won’t commit, I think I’m moving on,” or “Want to go grab drinks sometime?” (Yes, prior to this podcast, I had never asked a person out. Not even online.)

I still see my therapist, and I still think the only reason I’m able to have the confidence to date, podcast about it, and stick up for what I want is because of the time I have spent with my therapist since my early twenties. Want to laugh: my business partner and now podcast host, Liza, was one of my friends from acting class back in 2011 who ended up having the same therapist as me. She also attributes her confidence during her post-college relationships and the times she has been single to therapy.

You can listen to “51 First Dates” here, or anywhere you listen to podcasts.

Ask the Astro Poets is the monthly advice column by W‘s resident astrologers, Alex Dimitrov (Sagittarius) and Dorothea Lasky (Aries). At the halfway point of every month, they take a breather from writing poetry and horoscopes, and take your questions about love, career, even the big existential questions in life. From matchmaking and compatibility, to friendship, professional, and dating advice, the poets of the stars are here to guide you through any challenge:

Dear Astro Poets,

I’m a Scorpio who’s been in love with an Aquarius for two years (we’re both guys). I know he’s the one for me, but all we do is clash. It’s been said that a Scorpio and an Aquarius aren’t really compatible, but I don’t want that to get in the way. Could you help and tell me if this match can work, and if compatibility is everything?

A Persistent Scorpio

Dear Persistent Scorpio,

At first glance, Scorpio and Aquarius is indeed a challenging match. They’re both fixed signs—guardians, stubborn, and determined to fight for what they want—but in other ways, they’re very different. Aquarius is ruled by Uranus, that strange blue planet that has everything to do with vision, revolutionary possibilities, and the freedom to pursue them. Aquarians are an emblem of free thought and independence. As a Sagittarius, they’ve always been very inspiring to me. I totally get why you’re into this Aquarius. (I also dated one, but just for a summer—it would have been longer if fire signs don’t get bored so easily).

Meanwhile, Scorpio is ruled by Pluto—though we should remember that Pluto’s status as a planet has been revoked, which of course now makes it a gay icon. Pluto is also the god of the underworld, and as an astronomical body, it has everything to do with transformation, the subconscious, and revealing what’s underneath. What I mean to say is that Scorpios seek truth, and they’re not afraid of moving through dark energy to get to love.

So how does this apply to you and your Aquarius? Well, it makes sense that you two would constantly “clash,” as you say. Intellectually, this is a dynamic pairing because neither sign is interested in easy answers or socially prescribed norms. It will never get boring to go out to dinner together, nor endlessly talk over your morning coffee. The problem is that you won’t always agree on a worldview, life view, or really just about anything else. The sex, however, will be hot. It’s like the wind meeting the sea. You’re going to get a good storm. I always think of Scorpios as the deepest and most mysterious water. They’re charged with so much intensity, which they’re not afraid of showing, and Aquarians are also full of intensity, although it’s rarely on the surface or easily expressed. My advice would be to give your Aquarius as much freedom as he needs. Don’t constantly check up on him; let him pursue his friendships and weird obsessions in peace. This is hard for Scorpios because, let’s face it, you guys are very sexy stalkers. You’re ready to remind the person whom you’re in love with that you’re in love with them at all times, and you want to know everything about them emotionally. This is why Scorpios are also so invested in their lovers’ past romances, which can become a problem. For an Aquarius starting to date a Scorpio, claustrophobia can be real. And since they’re not especially communicative, and also quite cerebral, you won’t always know that your Aquarius is feeling that way until they lash out.

I’m actually one of those people that loves a challenging match. I don’t believe that it can’t lead to love or something meaningful. For me, that summer-long Aquarius whom I mentioned earlier was that challenging match. I wouldn’t say he’d disappear on me, but when we weren’t constantly texting or talking, I got the sense that he was in his own world and that he didn’t necessarily want to invite me there all the way. Aquarians really do need space where they can weird out. Scorpios are perfectly fine being crazy in front of their lovers, but that’s just not everyone. So have faith in this guy, as you do. Because I also know that when a Scorpio zeroes in on a person who they really want, they’re not only in it forever, but all of the playing games, having many lovers, going silent, and all those other things we tend to associate with them fall away. You’ve got this.

Your Sagittarius,

Alex

Dear Astro Poets,

I’m a Gemini sun with an Aries moon and Aquarius rising. I’m very much in love with a Libra (Sagittarius moon Aquarius rising). I’m happy, but I’m worried that I’m restaging a doomed familial relationship. My father is a Gemini sun (Aries moon and Virgo rising). My whole life I’ve felt almost karmically tied to him—obviously because he’s my father, but also because of the stars. We’ve also shared true love of a Libra, which for him was my (Leo moon, Aries rising), but that ended some time ago.

I’ve realized that many things I find attractive in my Libra boyfriend are things that my father found attractive in my Libra mother, like her rationality and even her temper. On the other side of the coin, both my boyfriend and my mother have that particular Libra style of emotional unavailability, which at time makes both of them feel not just distant, but unreachable. I don’t foresee my boyfriend and I breaking up any time soon, but this mirroring of my parents’ relationship makes me question our relationship. I wonder if we are fated for dissolution, disillusion, and discontent in the same way my parents seem to have been. So, Astro Poets, should I break up with my Libra before things go south? Tell me what to do.

Signed,

A Highly Reflective Gemini

Dear Highly Reflective Gemini,

Thank you for your question, which is endlessly fascinating—though of course I’d expect no less from a thoughtful Gemini such as yourself! Your question itself demonstrates what I love so much about your sign, which is that Geminis get something about life that most people don’t. Most signs don’t notice patterns in life intricately or at all, but Geminis notice the repetition of tropes and archetypes in all of our lives—an attentiveness to mirroring that, for example, makes Geminis so good at math and music. For Geminis, everything in life is a bit of a game. Not because you see things as superficially playful, but because you realize that life is a series of lessons, and that hopefully by the end of it, you’ve gotten some things right. I just love seeing how Geminis think, so thank you for letting us into your thought process a bit with your question.

Now that I have gotten that part out of the way, I must say that part of me wants to blurt out that you should just forget all of this thinking and relax and enjoy your relationship. You’re right to notice that there’s probably a reflection of your parents’ connection in your own dynamic with your boyfriend. It’s true that we learn how to love from what we see from our parents. But also, you’re a Gemini; these feelings about a Libra are classic. Distant and unreachable? Exceedingly rational and even hot-tempered? Yeah, that’s check and check in almost every case with any Libra. It’s your mother and your boyfriend, but it will be like that with almost every other Libra you meet. And you will love it. LOVE. IT. EVERY. DAMN. TIME.

Gemini and Libra is a match of soul mates, and since you’re happy, as a simple Aries, I’ll say this: Just be okay with being happy. I’m not sure what happened in your parents’ case, but I see that everyone in this scenario has fire moons, and I’m sorry to say that something can always go wrong when that’s at play. Also, things end, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t worth happening. You could easily stay with your Libra for the rest of your life. And so, until he gives you a reason to go, I say stay. My parents were Libra-Gemini and nothing could have broken them up. Just look at Gwen and Blake. Linda and Paul. Stevie Nicks and Lindsey—wait, let me quit while I’m ahead.

I hope you can go on lots of adventures with your sweet Libra this summer.

Love from a Not Reflective Aries,

Dorothea

Related: Ask the Astro Poets: Are Aries Capable of Having Casual Hook Ups?