You currently play music in a “progressive rock” band and although you are not the attractive lead singer, you are the turbo-member that organizes all the practices and shows.  You own black t-shirts that say Gibson or Zildjian and respect your bass teacher from high school more than your parents.  While getting stoned in your dorm room at college you realized that although most of your friends didn’t necessarily enjoy Coltrane’s frantic solos, they still commonly gave you disguised glances indicating their awareness that you are “really into obscure shit.”