Poser

I hated this word during childhood. It was “owned” by people better than me. People who had already spent years fine tuning their love of skateboarding, The Grateful Dead, playing guitar or even Dungeons and Dragons. As an adult it’s pretty easy to get by without being made fun of. At least not to your face and generally you’ve spent enough years experiencing it as a child it seems, well, childish.

So today on my way to work riding the bike I ride every day and have for the past year, the same style of bike I’ve rode for the past three years, I was yelled at by someone from the shadows to my right. “Poser!” I can only assume that the person to my right was one of Denver’s finest hipsters. Self-righteous, DIY-fixed-gear-riding, risk-taking, reckless-riding-One-Way-streets-the-wrong-direction, authentic-non-poser-hipster. Ew.

I guess adults aren’t exempt from the rigors of childhood and hurt feelings. That sucks.