As my bio states, I’ve lived in Melbourne all my life except when I haven’t. I couldn’t describe it in a truer way than that. Besides a couple of stints OS, Melbourne has always been my home. Born here, grew up here, bought a house and raised a family here. You name it and Melbourne is where I’ve done it.

After all these years, I’m kind of fond of my old home town. I like the fact that it’s a big city, but not too big. I like the fact that it’s not the first place people think of when they think of Australia, but it’s kind of up there. I like that it’s a city with a diverse population, with interesting neighbourhoods and many different faces. It’s a city of art and culture, a city of literature (officially) and also a great sporting city. I feel like we’re Australia’s great introvert city, compared to Sydney, the city of extraverts (and yes, I deliberately spelt it with an a, so take that, dodgy spell checkers).

However, I do have to admit that I’m a pretty lousy Melbournian.

It’s not just that, as a bit of a stay-at-home, I don’t actually consume much of this art and culture that supposedly surrounds me. I rarely go to art galleries, and even less often to the theatre. I have spent barely any time at the myriad of cultural festivals available, whether art or literature or even comedy. And, most shockingly, I’ve been to about three football games in the last ten years, and I haven’t been to the cricket for almost twenty years.

No, these reasons are bad enough, but there are even worse crimes I must admit to. I discovered this after reading an online article describing the wonders of my home city. And this was where I discovered how poorly I suit this place.

Firstly, I never wear black. Just don’t like it. Doesn’t suit me at all. But here I was, reading that true Melbournians are dressed from head to toe in nothing else. Strike one.

Secondly, I don’t like coffee. I gave it a go, I really did. But I just don’t like the taste. And I don’t like that it’s either so hot it burns my mouth or just lukewarm and blah. But, of course, true Melbournians can’t get enough of the stuff. Strike two.

Thirdly, I don’t spend lots of my time in cafes, particularly those hidden along narrow alleys (where of course I’d be wearing black and drinking coffee). But apparently this is the number one occupation for true Melbournians. Strike three.

So there you have it. Even though I’ve spent most of my life here, I’m an abject failure when it comes to being a Melbournian.

Still, I’m hoping I’ve got many years ahead of me, and I’m sure most will be spent in this city by the bay. Maybe there’s a chance I can get my act together.