We all have questions and need advice, but sometimes the pseudo therapy in the Instagram stories of astrology girlies doesn’t cut it. Or maybe the gate-keeping culture of adventure bros has you fearing the judgment that comes with revealing yourself as a newbie at anything. This advice column exists to hold space for you and your Boulder queries (especially the uncool ones).
What’s the best gym membership to get in Boulder?
This economy has got us all fiending for ways to keep that checking account balance from going in a general bad direction. Go ahead, eat Annie’s Shells and White Cheddar for weeks on end, fake insomnia to save money on weed with a medical card — what is worth good money is a gym membership, and the gym you choose could be the difference between being emotionally traumatized by an obsessive and cruel man and not joining a climbing gym.
Skip the yoga studio (too horny), Crossfit (not horny enough), the Y (too close to the rock climbing gym) and get a membership at the OG Boulder Rec Centers. I could go on about the proletarian charm of city facilities or the joy of swimming laps, but the best part about the rec centers is being exposed to the nude human form in the locker rooms. I certainly owe my appreciation of all variations on breasts to them — and nonsexualized, aging bodies should be required viewing in these fake-ass times.
What do I do with people visiting who don’t hike or drink beer?
For most in Boulder, these kind of people are threatening and confusing, because the average Joe here wakes up, chugs a Hazy IPA right before scrambling the Flatirons, hydrates at the top with Upslope Pale Ale, and then meets the homies to talk about hiking at an outdoor athlete-coded brewery.
I for one think it is so cool that you are open-minded enough to be friends with no-beer no-hike people! Just existing in public with them while they’re neither hiking nor drinking beer would show them that you are a brave ally who celebrates diversity even when it’s weird and off-putting.
How do I find a boyfriend at CU?
Many a grown woman will see a gallon jug of Eldorado Springs water or a Baja Hoodie drug rug and suddenly find herself thinking with fondness and a little nausea on a long ago CU boyfriend. While it was definitely nice having someone who was always down to eat Illegal Pete’s burritos and watch The Wire, it was less nice waking up to the sound of a blowtorch when your CU boyfriend took a morning dab before his 8 a.m. chemistry lab.
If you’re more on the romantically masochistic side, you could go on a date with your political science TA once finals are over and learn a *different* type of lesson… ;) Surprise, it’s a crash course in the huge gap in psychological maturity between a 20-year-old and a 27-year-old.
Oh sorry, I forgot to answer your question: Tell him his Grateful Dead tattoo is cool, make him a quesadilla and he’s yours.
How can I keep hanging out with my climbing-obsessed friends after losing the climbing itch?
Like a bimbo who picks up Marx and suddenly can see a class struggle beyond her tiny world of hair and makeup, a climbing addict’s brain can be rewired by a realization that something like making kombucha is actually fun and definitely not climbing. While this is fine and dandy for his life expectancy, it’s also hard to hang with the boys when every conversation turns to slabby routes and the group chat is just Mountain Project links.
You could try exposing them to the wide world of things beyond climbing like online poker, but learning online poker takes time, and there’s a more efficient way. Next time the gang gets together, you won’t be alone — and your date? She didn’t even know there was more than one type of climbing, and you bet your ass she’s going to ask your friends to explain the climbing lingo every. single. time. Once she tells them they’re “way more normal than that Free Solo guy!” everyone will be dying to talk about the Buffs.
How do I stop underachieving? Is it a “fear of failure” thing?
Do you snark with your friends over the chumps who run the Leadville 100, training on precious, God-given Boulder weekends, turning the joy of eating into an efficiency equation of gels, and like, running so, so much? Maybe behind the snark is a wistful jealousy; but no, you’re absolutely *fine* with the fact that the most cardio you do is walk up and down the Avanti stairs to piss out that third mezcal Negroni, because you’re pretty sure you’re Type B down to your genetic code. And B stands for what? Bitch who loves funnn.
But what if you weren’t so fatalistic? I don’t know if you have a fear of failure, but I know that giving yourself grace is the first step to holding yourself to a higher standard, which can be an invitation to dream a little bigger, baby. Maybe you won’t be puking energy bars at Leadville, but who knows, you might start reading every night.
Boulder resolutions for 2025
Three ways the People’s Republic can do better in the new year
- Snap out of it.
You feel like shit so you stop at Natty G’s after work to load up on every discounted expired supplement that has Elderberry in it or just healing Elderberry vibes, and you’d rather fantasize about the soup-and-vibrator combo that awaits you at home than make small talk with the sweet older woman checking you out. To quote a very hot Cher talking to a very hot Nic Cage in Moonstruck: “Snap out of it!” I promise you won’t regret making the leap of connection to chat about how nummy those zinc lozenges are.
Or maybe you’re trudging home from the bars, not quite tipsy enough to stave off the bitter January cold. But wait! If you took a second to look at all the wonder that is in front of you, you’d notice the lit-up fountain in front of the courthouse on the mall looks like a penis. The moments that challenge us the most are also invitations to take part in the great dance of life. You don’t need to be alone with your selfish thoughts; dance with the old women, dance with the penises.
- Humble thyself.
We all have judgements — yeah, hiking Chautauqua without having your dog under voice command seems like a dick move. Low-frequency judgements in your head or shared with a bitchy friend are one thing, but the smug Instagram story shaming a local coffee shop for charging extra for vegan milk is not the badass manifesto of moral superiority you think it is.
"But wait!” you say, “I’m positive that publicly sneering at fellow Americans for voting against their own self-interest is being of spiritual service to my followers.” Um sweetie, were you acting in your own self-interest when you drank too much Chianti at Pasta Jay’s and signed your check “Free Luigi”? Banned from over-cooked cannelloni forever, mio caro.
- Please don’t embarrass us.
“Please Please Please” by Sabrina Carpenter is a really funny song about not wanting a guy to embarrass you. Consider the lyric: “Heartbreak is one thing, my ego’s another.”
It was one thing for Boulder to break my heart when natural medicine bodega Pharmaca closed, but having Boulder-resident Governor JPo go so hard on the RFK welcome feels like the ego-crushing embarrassment of having your bf push The Carnivore Diet on your friends.
Got a burning Boulder question? DM @wholefoods_daddy on Instagram or email letters@boulderweekly with the subject line “Dear Whole Foods Daddy.”