Men Who Won't Wash Ducks

I wondered yesterday, when I posted about the duck washing, if I could get away with only telling part of the story.  The answer is no.  I have been called out on social media, and pushed to recount the tale that has become that standard against which all men in the field of dating shall forever be measured amongst my friends...are they a man who will...or will not...wash ducks?

If you have known me for less than 10 years, you don't yet know what we are talking about.  So let me bring you up to speed.  The year is 2005.  It is summer.  Under the warm blue skies of long daylight hours in Alberta, I am the happiest girl in the world.  I love my life.  I am content.  My family is healthy and well.  My job is meaningful and inspired.  I just bought my first home.  And on the weekends I jump from airplanes and learn to fly...over and over, faster and better each time.  I have no boyfriend, and no time or desire to find one.  I am savouring what remains of "my last good year."

My last good year?  Ah yes, well, ever have one of those moments where you put your foot in your mouth in front of people destined to be life long friends and therefore say something that is not going to be forgotten as long as any of you shall live?  Well, that had happened the previous year, when I was remiss to be turning 28, and shopping for clothes to wear on my first ever cruise with 2 wonderful friends from work...who were notably already 30 and up.  Shy and cautious on my picks, they kept throwing boobalicious, form fitting clothes, and bikinis into my changing room that I can only wish I could wear now.  Emerging cautiously, I finally settled on a pair of boarder shorts and a bikini top as a compromise to my usual tom-boy style and made the mistake of saying "what the hell, I suppose I should own a bikini once in my life, after all I only have two good years left."  I can only describe the scene by referencing the movie "The Exorcist,"  where in very slow time heads turned a few degrees beyond normal expectation before any words were spoken.  Friendship is a constant labour of love.  They forgave me in seconds...but in a decade they have never forgotten...every birthday is a different spin on the commentary to where I stand now with respect to "the good years."

Well, just a year and a half later, as I was preparing to say goodbye to my 20's with some trepidation and a lot of reminders that this was the final days of my "good years", another group of friends with only my best interests at heart got it in their head to play matchmaker.  My friend's husband's friend who worked in petrochemical science had been picked as the pawn in this game, presumably intelligent, notably attractive, and sporty.  When approached with the idea of blind date I said "NOOOOOOO!'  Simply not interested no matter what.  The second attempt was a stealthy ploy to invite us both to a dinner party.  And to be fair...he was attractive.  He was nice.  He was sporty.  He hopped up to walk me to my car and asked if he could have my number.  He didn't mind when my only free night was Wednesday.  We had several nice Wednesday dates in a row....dinner, maybe a movie.  However, to have a Friday date would require me missing one or two skydives after work, and the Friday night bonfire on the dropzone.  It wasn't a concession I was willing to make for many weeks.  Finally, I decided I was being selfish and unfair, and said I would go out with him on a Friday.  He WAS impressed, for he understood how I was drawn to my weekend world.  He said that we could do ANYTHING I wanted to do, whatever date I could imagine, and I think we both thought it was pretty cool.  However, on the Thursday night the train crashed into Lake Wabumum, messing up ducks and grebes and muskrats and all sorts of things.

When he called Friday after work and asked what I had chosen as the thing I most wanted to do, I said "I want to wash ducks."  He said..."What?"  "I want to wash ducks," I repeated.  He said "You want to wash dogs?"  "No!"  I said.  'Ducks."  There was a pause and he said "You want me to take you to watch ducks?"  Exasperated I explained the train wreck, the environmental impact, and my desire to help, and that what I wanted to do most of all was to spend the night washing oily ducks and I wanted him to help me.  His response was "No."  "NO?"  I said, my brows furrowing as I spoke into the phone.  "No," he repeated.  "I work with oil for a living.  I am not going to get my hands dirty and soak myself in toxins on my night off for a bunch of ducks."

Look at how cute they are...how could you not held a duck in need?

I would like to tell you all that at that point I reached into the phone, dragged him through it, and beat him senseless for being selfish and uncaring.  But at 29.9 years old I still didn't trust my instincts and told myself to give him the benefit of the doubt.  However, at 29.9 years old I was also aware that I generally don't have the ability to hide what I am thinking very well.  I tried to contain it, I did.  I asked..."well, if whatever I want to do doesn't suit you, what is it that you would like to do?"  "I don't know," he said with a tinge of attitude "I was thinking maybe dinner and a movie."  Well if that isn't the most boring and ordinary thing in the world, I thought but did not say.  I told myself that I promised him a Friday night, I would make the best of it.  I would really try.

He picked me up for the dinner and the movie...in a pickup truck because it's Alberta of course.  I got in truck.  He drove one block to the end of the street, took a left for another block to the stop sign, and I could no longer help myself...in less than 2 blocks I stared him down and said "I can't BELIEVE you won't wash ducks.  They are helpless and injured and we are in a position to do something and you want to go for dinner."  In a rather desperate but one minute too late attempt to change the course of events he pointed to the horizon where a hot air balloon floated by and said "look at that, don't you think it would be amazing to ride in one of those someday?"  "Pfftt, I've jumped out of those" I said...and I had.  I skydive.  We do stuff like that, it's not a big deal.  He hit the brakes, turned to look at me and said "You know what, you're just WEIRD!  That's what you are, weird."  "Great, can you take me home so I can get to the ducks now?"  I am not sure that the vehicle actually came to a complete stop before I got out, and my last sight of that guy was tail lights in the dark.  More importantly, I got to my ducks, and his job eventually transferred him to Siberia (that, my friends, is a little thing called karma).

Once my ducks were cleaned, and in a row if you will, this story became somewhat of a legend.  As I relayed it to friends and acquaintances with total indignity..."What kind of a man won't wash ducks????" I asked anyone who asked.  The odd sweet and brave soul immediately pledged to wash any duck I thought looked grubby, but, I was in no mood to entertain suitors.  My best of friends were equally horrified.  I am not sure if I am meant to name names, so I will keep it anonymous but those who were there will recall that one of my friends' significant other came home from a long day of manual labour to find her sitting cross armed and cross legged on the couch with a furrowed brow and brooding look on her face.  "What is is?" he asked?  She slowly eyed him up, and with absolutely no explanation asked him "Would you wash ducks for me?"  Smartly, he grabbed his jacket and said "I don't know what's happening but yes.  Where are these ducks?"   To quote an email I received after the blog post yesterday referencing the ducks, "It became a measuring stick for all men."  Would he, or would he not wash ducks alongside you if you chose to.

I have seen this line used for over a decade now.  It has become one of my favorites.  Ladies, you know how you are out with the girls and some guy comes over and starts chatting, and you don't want to be rude but you just aren't interested for whatever reason?  Want to lose him quick?  Look him in the eye and say "would you wash ducks for me?"  98% of the time he assumes you are mentally imbalanced and flees the scene, and that will alleviate your problem and get girls night on track again.  Got a friend who is with the wrong guy and struggling to figure it out?  Ask her if she thinks he'd wash ducks for her.  Since this doesn't happen every day one is forced to answer without excuses...saves people time once in a while.  And if you are thinking about keeping him throughout whatever life throws at you, you certainly want to know he would wash ducks with you.

The story of the man who wouldn't wash ducks is almost complete, but there is one more fabulous detail to share.  After telling the couple who initiated the set up that he not only would he not wash ducks, but I never heard from him again, they finally must have convinced him that social propriety demanded as much, or perhaps as little of him as close out phone call.  And so, more than 2 weeks later, and ironically on my 30th birthday, that strange day in the female universe where one is faced with the uncertainty of whether or not life as you know it will actually end at the stroke of midnight (don't worry, it actually gets better), he did phone just to say "I don't want to see you anymore."   I live in a perpetual state of irony, and it provides a lot of laughs  So before he had spit it out and finished the call the doorbell was ringing, and flowers were being delivered by a wonderful guy-friend who did appreciate me for all my weirdness.  Shoulders shrugged, a pretty bouquet on my table and I was quickly on the phone with my girlfriends trying to decide if my book should be called "Men Who Won't Wash Ducks," or "My 30 Worst Birthdays...So Far."  Never did get around to it.  Thank goodness for the blog.