Too be hip, or not to be

I was told tonight at the bar, after blasting the stage with a terrible rendition of Jack Black's Tribute, that I was too hip for Monrovia.

There are multiple problems with this statement:

1 - It came from a girl I feel genuinely connected with and attracted to.
2 - She has an awesome boyfriend.
3 - It implies that I don't actually belong in Monrovia.
4 - That I am in any way at all "hip"

I will ignore the first two, since they are irreparable (and frequent) failures, with outcomes for which I am helpless. Instead, I'll focus on the second set. #3, as you can see, is a statement of location. Do I belong in Monrovia? Well, over the past week I have seen a good friend secure a job at my same hotel in Hollywood, and show signs of actually moving, potentially with me, into a place in Silverlake. At the same time, I have felt that twinge of unwelcomeness (so usual, so obvious) when your roommate doesn't really want you around when they come home. Both things said, I fully enjoy where I live and the township of Monrovia. I don't really want to move, but the opportunity has yet again arisen and my options are slim.

But observation #4 is what really concerned me. If the speaker (a female, gorgeous, and completely interesting, aka Taken) finds me to be "hip" then I have been going about this business completely wrong. See, I come from a well-versed-in-not-cool background. And I certainly don't practice Hip, Cool, nor particularly Sexy. So when someone I've known for a while reads me as such, it is startling and unnerving, and curious.

I'm not moving nor am I marrying this girl.
Just curious about what she said.

Hip?

I'm not hip.
But then again, who is?
Are the hipstery hipsters hip?
Are the hippyest hippies hip?
Who the heck is hip?
And why, oh why have I been deemed so.

I want to kiss so badly I could scream. silently of course

Goodnight

Mikie