Urban Thought Collective

Quick recap and then on to more current events…okay, maybe not that current, this did happen nearly two months ago, but someone once told me good stories are timeless… alright, I made that one up myself, but it sounded good didn’t it?

So by now you know a well dressed, trilingual Boris Kojo-esque dude that I met at a birthday party invited me to Denver for a few days before he flew back to Germany. Having absolutely nothing better to do, I said yes. The fact that I had absolutely nothing better to do is something I will one day take up with my therapist if I ever decide to see one (McNabb will win the Superbowl before that happens, just so you know).

In Part One I revealed that before I got there I wasn’t really feeling Denver. It felt a little too Kraft Mac & Cheese for me. You know, edible but uninspiring. However the city surprised me. In fact, Denver and the German surprised me (the nickname I gave him in Part Deux).

If you were paying attention, or more to the point, if you have a really good memory, you know I was properly wined and dined throughout my visit. I won’t trouble you any further with my dietary diaries, except to say that The Market on Larimer Street is worth a visit. Come for lunch–sandwiches, homemade soups–but stay for dessert; cookies, pastries and more prepared on site. If it’s warm enough to sit outside, take advantage of the best people watching in town. We did. We sat outside for almost an hour just watching folks pass by, I would invent little stories about the more interesting one and he would secretly take their picture. Back in Germany, he shoots commercials for a living, he’s all about the visual and I’m all about the written word. Opposites attract they say, and they is not me, someone else really did come up with that one.

Wanna know what else we did? Get your mind out the gutter, my mother recently took a computer class and is now quite internet savvy, so there’ll be no kissing and telling here. I swear, first thing every morning my mother powers up her Dell and Googles my name just to see what pops up. She hasn’t yet mastered Facebook, though it turns out that my ten-year-old niece has and together they have made it their life mission to be constantly in my business.

We pretty much just chilled my first full day Denver. Grabbed a late lunch and then watched movies in bed (yes, Mom he stayed on his side, I stayed on mine). I brought some screeners I received from the Writer’s Guild and he’d brought along some of his favorite European flicks. You can tell a lot about a person by the kinds of movies they like. Taste in movies is not necessarily a deal breaker, though if I met somebody who said his favorite movie of all time was “Pluto Nash,” our first date would definitely be our last. Usually I’m the one with the highbrow tastes, but the German out snobbed me by a long shot. Maybe it was all the warm sake we were drinking but I found “Tropic Thunder ” to be quite funny. The German, drank twice as much sake but laughed only half as much. I wrote this off as a cultural thing. He then put in one of his classic French joints. Hour one was totally charming. Hour two was okay. Hour three, I wanted to kill myself. Every time the German got up to go to the bathroom or to heat up more sake, I’d hit the fast forward button. I wrote it off to as a cultural thing. Finally the third movie was one we could agree on, “Burn After Reading”…we both fell asleep. Write it off as a too much sake thing.

The next day, he politely asked what I wanted to do, and I stupidly answered whatever he wanted. Two hours later, I found myself on a demanding hike in the Rocky Mountains. It seems the German is an outdoorsman. Sailing, hiking, hang gliding, the whole nine. You don’t get rock hard abs sitting on your bum all day (just had to mention those abs again. Yum!).

Now, I knew he was testing me, with this little sojourn of his. He wanted to see what I was made of and damnit, I was not going to wimp out, despite the 40 degree weather. Despite the hiking trail only going in one direction–up and up some more. Despite the fact that I was dressed city girl cute, cashmere sweater, skinny jeans, though I did at least have my shearling coat and a hat. Though the hat really didn’t match. Thought about leaving it in the car, but my sensible side took over and I put it on. I hate not matching, but I hate being cold more.

The walk gave us a chance to talk, really talk. So often the start of a new romance is filled with activities, watching movies, going to Laker games, fun stuff that prevents you from really sharing personal info with one another. I learned that his last girlfriend cheated on him. Then lied about it. Then, once she came clean, played the “you didn’t pay enough attention to me so I had to do it” card. They are no longer on speaking terms.

He learned that I’ve only been in LOVE four times and I never cheated on any of them (just had to slip that one in there), and I speak to my exes frequently.

As you can imagine, the higher up the mountain we went, the colder it got. And then we spotted a bobcat paw print in the snow. Yes…bobcat prints and snow. Sensing my trepidation, the German gallantly decided it was time to turn around, only he wanted to take a different trail back, a faster trail. I liked the sound of fast so down we went. Only I learned much too late it wasn’t really a trail. I hung in pretty tough until we hit this…this steep, jagged, unforgiving patch of rocks, none of which were big enough for my size nines to land securely on, so I just froze. Yes, I was a bit intimidated to climb down a steep set of rocks, but real talk…I was wearing a brand new pair boots, boots I had bought specifically for this trip, boots I was not about to scratch trying to prove I wasn’t some spoiled Hollywood diva, when in fact, sometimes that is exactly who I am.

The German asked me what was wrong but I couldn’t speak. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that while I liked him a great deal, I was head over heels in love with my boots. Two days from now his half black ass was going back to Germany and I might not ever hear from him again. My boots, as long as they remained in pristine condition, were forever.

Remember back in Part One when the German strolled into the airport and picked my luggage off the carousel as if my bag was Debra Winger in the last scene in “An Officer and A Gentleman?” Bump the luggage. This Negro straight up Richard Gere’d me and carried me down the hill. ON HIS BACK. Only putting me down once we reached more steady ground, some half mile later. He wasn’t winded in the least but I was left breathless, as it was hands down– the sexiest thing that has ever happened to me.

The next two days were a blissful whirlwind. On Saturday we strolled through the Denver Art Museum and did a little shopping. Later he cooked me dinner and then whooped my ass in backgammon for about six games straight. On Sunday, we hit the Raiders/Broncos football game. I’m a huge football nut, both college and pro and despite his European upbringing, he is too (actually played a little American Football in boarding school, defensive back thank you very much). Though I’m glad I had the experience, it is one I will never repeat as I have never been so cold in all my life. Anyone who willingly subjects themselves to that kind of torture should see the therapist I’ve yet to consult.

After the game, it was a mad dash to the Denver airport (my feet were numb so it was more like a crazy hobble). After handing my bag over to a baggage handler and making sure my ticket was straight, it was time to say goodbye. It is here that I will break my “don’t kiss and tell” rule and say that he planted a long, sweet, passionate one on my frozen lips, quickly bringing the blood flow back to my entire body. Once again I got the feeling that this may be our last shared moment together, and I didn’t care. A good time was had by all and sometimes that’s enough.

Two hours later, I was back at home exhausted yet utterly satisfied that my having absolutely nothing better to do lead to…well, I guess we’ll all have to stay tuned for what it may or may not have lead to now won’t we?

Tamara T. Gregory is a writer/producer/traveler. Happily single (yes, there really is such a thing), she is an expert on the dating game. Her debut novel, Passport Diaries, is an LA Times bestseller and is soon to become a Hollywood motion picture. The book is available at www.passportdiaries.com. Gregory’s X…WHY blog is exclusive to Urban Thought Collective.