We all have questions and need advice, but sometimes the pseudo therapy in the Instagram stories of astrology girls 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.
How do you stop associating Boulder locations with exes?
Was it the Bernie bro who gave you the ick when he judged you for voting for Hillary in the general election, but always sang great Pete Seeger karaoke at the Outback Saloon? Or was it the stick-and-poked MFA grad student who broke up with you via open mic poetry at Innisfree coffee shop (RIP)? Existing in a small town with a soft heart sucks when ghosts of exes past lurk inside the climbing walls of the gym you once frequented together (or just the actual exes climbing the walls, since there are only three gyms).
The solution is to make more sexy memories at the sad ex places until they become unremarkable ex places. Do you get misty-eyed every time you go to the cafe where the emotionally unavailable long-distance runner dumped you to Gregory Alan Isakov’s “Amsterdam”? Shoot your shot with the actual Gregory Alan Isakov at the same spot, and replace the sad-y vibes with folk daddy vibes.
Should I move to an L-town if I’m in my late 20s and trying to make friends?
For the uninitiated, Lafayette, Longmont, Louisville and Lyons are, respectively, Boulder’s cottagecore, Second Amendment-core, American Beauty suburb-coded and weed-libertarian cousins. There comes a time in every Boulderite’s life when their friends become domesticated by marriage and make the move to one of these relatively more affordable L-towns. You could always follow them, but you will be a far more attractive friend if you stay in Boulder and embrace your new role as the forever-single friend with a couch to crash on after mommy and daddy’s trashy night out in Boulder.
How do you pick up shorties at Trident?
A word of warning: Do not use the highly effective pick-up techniques below unless you are ready to be violently swarmed by ovulating women at the city’s brainiest cafe, book store and event space:
- Casually ask a young woman reading alone if you can share their table (with other tables clearly available) and lay down some rejected Žižek material before asking for her Snapchat.
- Give a witty comment to a CU student about their niche laptop sticker.
- Tell her she could look like a young Jane Birkin if she only smiled.
My ex put me on blast in their Strava run caption. How should I respond?
This is like your mom inexplicably tagging Lauren Boebert’s official account in a derogatory Facebook status: petty, kind of weird, and unlikely to be seen by anyone besides the person it’s meant for (i.e., you). Don’t make the mistake of taking the high road; blast them in the comments of your own suspiciously penis-shaped Strava bike ride.
We matched on Hinge and we had photos of us climbing the same route. Is it meant to be?
“It wasn’t the worst line she’d heard on a dating app, even if his himbo selfie made her physically cringe. Still, he was liberal and wasn’t in an ENM relationship — not that there’s anything wrong with that. With her egg supply dwindling with every passing month, she gave him a chance. Is it meant to be? Probably not for eternity, but at least for an awkward, obligatory Rosetta Hall first date.”