>I don’t know if this is an autism thing or not, but…
A few weeks ago I told my mom that I must be the luckiest duck in the world (because I have Elsie). I frequently started referring to myself as the luckiest duck, and it kind of stuck. So now Leigh is a lucky duck, because she has Joe (her cat). And if we’re lucky ducks, we must be ducks, right? And if I’m a duck, I must have been born of a duck, so that makes my mom a duck. So now everyone is ducks.
Add that to the fact that ducks waddle and quack and swim (I’m dying to swim right now), and I’m totally stuck on ducks. I find it endlessly entertaining. That would be fine, except no one else does, and people are losing patience with me about the ducks. But I absolutely can’t help it. I must talk about ducks.
I’ve been going to this online forum/chat room for people who are asexual (which I’ve recently found the word and concluded that I most certainly am such), and I’ve found that I can only talk about two things: duck jokes, and cats. I can’t just join in the conversation like everyone else. Luckily, it seems that a disproprotionate number of asexual people love cats, and so I’m usually accepted in the chat room. The ducks, not so much.
Why doesn’t anyone get the ducks?