I still remember the day a date asked me what it was like growing up in Boulder. We were sitting on a patio, blankets of snow inching toward the feet of everyone around us like some kind of slow-motion lava flow.
“Boulder?” I said, straightening up like I was about to deliver the keynote speech at a TED Talk. “Well, imagine if Whole Foods and REI had a lovechild, and that lovechild joined a drum circle, only to break away later to start a kombucha empire.”
He laughed, but my tone wasn’t entirely joking. Boulder is the kind of place that leaves its mark on you, whether you like it or not. It’s quirky, idyllic, and weirdly obsessed with kale. And, like anyone raised in a place so specific, I’ve spent my adult life trying to figure out how I feel about it.
Let’s just say…it’s complicated.
Roots That Both Nourish and Tangle
Growing up in Boulder was a lot like dating someone who’s effortlessly cool but doesn’t realize just how much they’re projecting their personality onto you. My parents, environmental activists to their cores, weren’t content with the usual small talk or Sunday barbecues. Oh no. Saturday mornings meant hiking the Flatirons while they debated carbon offsets with friends named things like River or Sky.
And I loved it. Mostly. Hiking those trails felt like stepping into a John Denver song, except instead of eagles soaring majestically overhead, there were always at least two college students hotboxing an organic burrito wrapper at the trailhead. There’s something truly magical about a childhood immersed in nature. But let’s be real: when all your friends grow up eating raw cacao nibs instead of Lunchables, it shapes you. I can’t smell patchouli to this day without twitching.
Sure, Boulder gave me my love for the environment, but it also made me hyper-aware of its own contradictions. As a kid, I thought it was hilarious how the same people who drove electric cars would still fly to Bali for “spiritual clarity.” Dating someone with a similar upbringing? Cue an hour-long debate over how eco-friendly your first date idea really is. Paddleboarding? What about invasive species concerns? Coffee shop? Where’s that cup sourced from?
Boulder isn’t just a town; it’s a philosophy—and one you’re drafted into at birth whether or not you signed up for the mailing list.
When Home Becomes a Measuring Stick
As you grow up and venture beyond the Flatirons, "home" goes from being where you live to a sort of emotional measuring stick. During my two years of living in Seattle, I thought I’d broken away from Boulder’s pull. I was expanding my worldview, chasing professional opportunities, and, honestly, eating carbs without guilt. But every time I talked to someone new, Boulder came up, like it was the password to my personality.
“So, what’s Boulder like?” people would ask, inevitably.
“It’s…” I'd pause for effect. “Picture a town where everyone’s Fitbit data is a bragging right. Where dogs have more social capital than people. Where running a marathon is a casual Sunday activity.”
Living in Seattle, I started hearing myself talk about Boulder the way you’d describe an ex you’re not quite over. “They’re great,” I’d say, with just a hint of sarcasm. “Really active. Maybe too active. It’s exhausting trying to keep up. But, wow, the views.”
Spoiler alert: the views always win. Every time I’d visit, I’d find myself staring up at the jagged peaks like they had some kind of gravitational pull, yanking me back into its orbit. And just like that, the love/hate cycle would start again.
The Ghost of Boulder in My Dating Life
Here’s the thing nobody tells you about growing up in a place like Boulder: it sets a bar. I don’t mean that in the “I won’t date anyone who doesn’t recycle” kind of way—though let’s just say Denverites, you better bring your A-game. It’s more subtle than that.
In Boulder, relationships tend to be less about fancy nights out and more about experiences. There’s an unspoken pressure to “go deep” while also “keeping it light,” which is honestly a tightrope walk. You learn to talk about serious issues like climate change or the ethics of monogamy during casual hikes, only to break up with someone because “their energy felt off.”
And while not everyone in Boulder is like this, enough of the culture bleeds through that you carry it with you. I’ve caught myself trying to weed out incompatible matches, not by their zodiac sign (though that does come up in Boulder circles), but by how comfortable they’d look eating jackfruit tacos at a food co-op.
Dating outside of a Boulder mindset has been, well, a learning curve. My Seattle relationship crashed and burned, perhaps as a direct result of introducing them to oat milk too soon. But I’m slowly learning to appreciate the differences instead of resenting them.
Where (and How) to Feel at Home
I can’t entirely blame Boulder’s overzealous personality for my love/hate feelings. At some point, you have to face the fact that where you grew up—and the relationships you build there—are sewn into your personal tapestry. They aren’t always flattering, but they’re part of the design.
And honestly? That’s kind of beautiful and ridiculously annoying, all at the same time.
So here’s how I’m learning to navigate my ever-complicated relationship with home:
-
Claim Both Halves of the Equation
It’s okay to both love and hate where you’re from. You’re not required to feel one particular way about your hometown, even if you’re surrounded by locals who think it’s paradise. Admit that you miss the views, but you can also side-eye the kale obsession. You can appreciate what shaped you and still poke fun at it—because, let’s face it, everything is quinoa-scented and it’s objectively hilarious. -
Recognize the Baggage It Brings
Growing up in a "destination town" means you’ll carry certain quirks with you. Maybe it’s an obsession with outdoor gear. Maybe it’s an ingrained resistance to conformity (even when it’s convenient). Or, in my case, a Pavlovian need for a trail mix that contains at least three kinds of seeds. Acknowledge it, laugh about it, and move forward. -
Reframe the Bar You Set
Yes, home sets a standard—it shapes what we value and how we perceive connection. But that doesn’t mean you have to wait for someone who ticks every hyper-specific box of your background culture. Relationships worth having remind us that love isn’t about fitting someone else into our mold; it’s about expanding the mold together. -
Visit, Don’t Idolize (or Demonize)
Returning home, whether physically or emotionally, can be both comforting and overwhelming. I’ve learned that the answer isn’t running away or moving back full time—it’s finding my own balance. A long weekend in Boulder reminds me why I love it, but also why I need to define my life on my terms, wherever that may be.
Boulder and Beyond
We all have a complicated relationship with where we’re from. Home is a messy mix of who we were, who we pretend to be, and who we’re still trying to become. For me, Boulder is a reminder that love and hate aren’t opposites but two sides of the same coin. You can appreciate the mountain views while still making fun of the kombucha. You can embrace your roots while still spreading your wings elsewhere.
And maybe, just maybe, you can set down the metaphorical trail mix long enough to figure yourself out along the way.
