three strikes?

in about half an hour i'm going on my third first date in six days. and it seems about as promising as the first two...

'what are you talking about?' you might ask. well, let me tell you:

last thursday, the fateful day when i began my 90 in 90 adventure, i went on first date #1. Let's call him Tim. That was, in fact, his name. and he was boring. looked older than advertised. not currently working. big dreams of opening his own brewery- which is cool, if he had a personality to go with it. the date lasted approximately 45 minutes to an hour, and it was filled with awkward questions, back and forth, no real flow to the conversation. the best thing about it was the fig salad i had with my glass of pinot gris. next.

sunday i had first date #2, we can call him the Turk because he's Turkish- something i did not realize until he called me tell me he was running late. i'm not really into foreign guys, especially ones who are half an hour late and then say 'thats how things are in my country'. really? cause that's kind of rude. five minutes is one thing, 30 is another. plus, he had that somewhat creepy lack of personal space knowledge, and stared a little too intensely and skeeved me out. next.

tonight: paramedic. since i haven't met him yet i'll give you what i know. i think he's 28, looks cute. lives in the graduate hospital area. kept giving me his phone number in our email conversations, which i promptly ignored because i don't like initiating phone contact with strangers. however, he asked me to text him b/c his email was 'broke up'. i don't know what that means, but i figured, fine. so earlier today i texted him to determine our meeting place. after texting back and forth two or three times, he says 'can you email me? this phone is no good for texting'. seriously? get it together buddy- which one is it- email or text? however this time he asked me to email his personal account. want to know the email address? megabuttface@blahblah.com. MEGABUTTFACE.

this is what happens when you meet people on the internet people. you end up having drinks with a boring hopeful unemployed man, an intense turkish guy, and a megabuttface paramedic.

three strikes and i am out.