"You know, get out there. You'll have higher standards right now. Get right back in it." - P.J.

The day after I broke up with someone earlier this year, this was P.J.'s advice.

I don't usually follow my little brother's dating suggestions (see previous posts about his Seahawk-jersey-wearing/bar-hopping advice if there's any questions about why that might be), but I did listen to him here - it seemed in a similar vein as the get-right-back-up-on-the-horse theory. Which most of the time I'm not known to endorse, but sometimes it works out alright.

So I listened to P.J...which has led to several nice dates with several nice guys, and then one which included a series of unfortunate events, which I will relay here.

We started at a used bookstore, which you'd think would be great, since I love books, and want to be a librarian. Also, I was giving him points for suggesting a bookstore instead of the ubiquitous coffee first date. One of the first books we spied was Dates from Hell. No joke. This should have been my first clue. But conversation was flowing, he was amusing, all good. Actually, by conversation flowing, I should have said, he was talking. A lot. About himself. I learned that he worked in a marketing department for a fast-food chain. Happily worked in said job. This was enough to end the date right there, let's be honest. But then I thought to myself I was being snobby, and should give him a chance, even if his job involves encouraging kids to eat horribly every day.

We then decided to walk around Green Lake. I got into his car, a new model, with a computer screen in it in the middle of the dash....On said computer screen was a computer generated image of a scantily clad - read: almost naked - woman under the title "Sally Mae."

Gretzky: "What's up with the picture?"

SM: "Oh that? That's my car's name, Sally Mae."

Gretzky: "Did the picture come with it?"

SM: "Oh, I picked that one out."

Gretzky: "Hmm, my cars haven't had pictures attached to them."

SM: "Really? Do you know which street I turn on next?"

At this point I wanted to open the car door and leap out, but I was wearing boots and tights and figured if I had to make an Alias-style roll, my tights wouldn't make it in the event my knees touched the ground.

So I stayed in the car, and learned a few more things about SM. At one point he asked if I was a lesbian. I think he was trying to be funny, but I'm not exactly sure how this train got started.

I think I murmured something along the lines of, "I'm here with you, right?" and then SM went back to talking about himself.

Also, it should be noted that in previous communication with SM, he had mentioned he hated profanity. Now, we all know Gretzky's mouth is not the cleanest - I once again said "fuck" this weekend in church - and I don't really care about profanity either way from someone else as long as they not cursing at me specifically. I can clean it up when I want to. But he was cursing the whole date long. And I just thought it stupid, to have a double-standard, that he gets to curse but others don't. WTF?

So I thought I was speechless after this date, but there it all is. Where does Earth get these people?