Hipster Who?

Josh had left town for a few days last Monday to visit with family who live up north in Vermont. Sweet of him to make time to travel six hours on a good weekend, though the threat of snow could quickly turn a winter wonderland into a never ending road trip. I didn't care that he did not call for a few days. I never understood the stalker technique of dating which consists of constantly keeping tabs on the person you are dating. He was with family, plus I was keeping myself entertained by meeting with Nigella for drinkies at the Whiskey Blue located within the W in Midtown. Nigella's buddy, Don, has worked at the hotel for quite some time...and had been trying to work his way into her pants much longer.

"Why don't you give him a shot?", I asked Nigella, partially kidding.

"Mmmm, no. One drama crazy relationship at a time, thank you", was Nigella's reply.

"But he looooooves you", I said in a Tanqueray and Tonic generated proclamation. Nigella was kind of, semi attached. She and the guy she had been seeing for the last four years were off...again. We'll say on hiatus. Though she was in no mood for any BS right now; boyfriend, break hook-up, rebound or otherwise.

"Hey why don't we talk about your little boy-friend?", she asked,"How old is he now? Twelve?".

Oh Nigella's wit. Never a dull moment. "He is legal", I added to her bad joke,"he is up in Vermont with family this week. Poor thing is missing kickball this week", I quipped.

"Wait", said Nigella,"Kickball? Oh no. Wait. Does he wear flannel and tight pants? Grow facial hair? Does he try to be ironic and look for the irony in his attempts at being ironic?", asked a concerned Nigella.

"Dude. You almost made the Tanqueray and tonic shoot from my nose!", I laughed, "And yes, I choose answer (D) All of the above".

"Frankie! I think you're dating a hipster! EWWWWWW."

I never really got the entire concept of The Hipster. That infamous being that had supposedly invaded and conquered Williamsburg, Greenpoint, LES, and now existed in cells throughout Astoria.

"No, Nigella, don't be silly", I said, "He is Josh, just Josh. I mean, what is this hipster label? I don't get it".

"Oh Frankie, this is not good. Your ignorance of The Hipster makes me fearful that you could not recognize one. They are obnoxious, almost emo but not. They have this air about them like they are superior, though they are completely full of shit."

Nigella's definition seemed much like those found on urbandictionary.com.

We kept chatting about it. If it were true, then I was toast. Though I could not easily identify The Hipster, what I did know is that dating one would not have positive results for me.

I definitely march to the beat of my own drummer, though in an entirely different manner than those who could be termed alternative or hipster or whatever anti-mainstream term one could use. I am simply me. As Michael Cera said during Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist,"I don't really subscribe to any label".

Which is probably why I could not recognize that I had fallen into like with a hipster. --Frankie