There are a lot of things that aren’t my thing.

Public masturbation is one of them. Thankfully. I mean, if that was my thing, I’d be in some real strife. I never realised how lucky I am that I’m not a public wanker before now. That’s something to add to the gratitude list (if I had one).

But when I talk about “things” I mean it more in a cultural sense.

My housemate is a Seinfeld fan. And that’s just fine. But as she was watching it today, I wondered about how I somehow managed not to have seen more than 10 minutes of the show throughout my entire life. I mean, it was everywhere when I was a kid. It was on about as many times as The Simpsons, but it never entered my consciousness. It’s one of those things that everyone assumes everyone was into, and maybe “everyone” was. But, as it turns out, I’m not everyone.

Perhaps it was because of conflicting time schedules with Home and Away. Perhaps it’s because my younger self set off to sabotage my ability to connect with people in my adulthood via shared interests. Or maybe it was because my oldest sister controlled the remote, and therefore my thoughts.

But for better or worse, it just was never my thing.

So in honour of the lack of Seinfeld in my life, here’s a listical to cover up the fact that I’m too tired to write a cohesive essay this afternoon. Enjoy!

Things that, for whatever reason, I never got into:

Practical Magic: We completely missed this movie growing up. Perhaps it’s why I’m so indifferent to Sandra Bullock as an adult. I wonder if that’s something I need to address with a therapist?

Having an imaginary friend: I used to pretend that I had an imaginary friend because I saw kids on television with them. I thought I had to have one to be normal. But the truth was that I thought the whole thing was bullshit and couldn’t understand why children did such things. I didn’t need an imaginary friend growing up; I had myself. Like, why waste your time with some fictional loser when you had the full package all along? This definitely sounds like something I should bring up with a psychologist.

Bambi: This wasn’t a video we had at home. Of course I know the general gist of what happens – Mrs Bambi gets shot, a rabbit turns up, there’s a fire of some sort and the socially awkward fawn turns into a strapping adult that kiiiiind of crosses those interspecies hotness boundaries. Like how you prefer the prince in beast form on Beauty and the Beast and you’d totally submit if Sully came creeping through your wardrobe door one night. Don’t pretend you’ve never been sexually attracted to a cartoon animal (please, I need to  believe that I’m normal in some sense of the word)

Peter Pan: The Disney version, again, was never in our VHS collection. I’m not sure way, perhaps it was too masculine for a household full of girls to be interested in. On a related note, I am very familiar with the live action version featuring pre-teen dreamboat Jeremy Sumpter. Go figure.

Rolf Harris: We were a Don Spencer kind of family. So I know nothing about what that creepy as fuck extra leg business was all about, but I do know that you just need to give a whistle to call Bob the kelpie. This absolutely paid off in the end, because my childhood wasn’t ruined by the fucking sickening revelations about him. I honestly didn’t know who this clown was until he was being dragged through the courts. Apparently he was on some paint ad? Big whoop mate.

Star Wars: Growing up we were really close with this family who lived around the corner. We liked them, but heavens to Betsy they were a different bunch. Living in a tiny, 97 per cent white town, they were the closest thing to exotic we grew up with, starting with that whole mixed-gender family thing. Weeeeird. They had a pet cockatoo, liked their piklets with Vegemite smeared on them and were right into their Star Wars. They leant us their deluxe gold foiled VHS trilogy once and it sat in our entertainment cabinet (yes, my parents still have one and yes it does contain 100+ video tapes and a Nintendo 64) for literally years. This has really bit me in the arse with all the new reboots coming out and the Trump Star Wars crossovers through. I really need to watch them to keep up with the cultural references at work, because there’s only so many times you can drop “droids” and variations of “may the force be with you” before people can see through you.

Lord of the Rings: This family also frothed The Lord of the Rings. One time we went with them to the movies to watch it, and it seemed to never end. I mean, I liked it and it was great to finally understand the Gollum/Sméagol thing (wow, I had no idea it had an accent above the “E”, there’s further proof this has never stuck), but good grief it was drawn out. I remember not hating the movie, but the sheer length of it was too off-putting to go back for round two (I will not make a dick joke, I will not make a dick joke, I will not make a dick joke…).

Aperol spritzes: Every trendy person is dropping Aperol into conversations like they’re a middle-aged woman who slightly wealthier than the other townsfolk mentioning Moet. Aperol is fucking everywhere. It’s the cosmopolitan of the early 2000s. But you know what? It taste like the farts of old oranges and medicine. You’re not missing out on anything at all.

Belly button piercings: I was far too fat to pull that off when they were trendy. I’m glad I had the self-awareness to know this.

Wheatbix: I had Wheaty Bix Bars as a kid because they had a sugary, fattening yoghurt coating, but I could never get into the actual bricks of shredded wheat. This may have had something to do with the fact that my mother used to eat her Vita Brits (yeah, the Sanitarium kind that was Aussie owned) with boiling water from the kettle and milk, melting them into a sickening brown sludge. I was more of a sultanas and sugar on my Rice Bubbles kind of girl.

Mary J Blige: Apparently she is an iconic singer, but all I know from her is that Family Affair song, and even then I can only mumble jibberish to the tune. How does this woman make her money? It’s a mystery to me.

Twilight: I literally just had to Google “that vampire series with Edward”. In a way this makes me concerned in that it pretty much confirms that I can expect to be hit by the Alzheimer’s train, but it makes me happy that I was never that much of a fuckwit. Thank goodness.