“Why don’t you miss me?! Just message me already! Fuck!” Rhonda hollered at her laptop open in front of her. She’d been sitting at her old wooden desk for an hour, just staring at the messages in her MySpace inbox. She wished so badly to hear from her high school sweetheart, but he hasn’t reached out to her since she moved over 600 miles away to Wilmington, North Carolina, for college. He didn’t always pay his cell phone bill, so she thought maybe if she messaged him on MySpace, he’d respond.

Rhonda was feeling lonely. Not only did she miss the love of her life – an older boy with red hair whom she met while working at a local restaurant – but she was also having trouble meeting new potential lovers at school. Let’s just say she was a bit too intense for the average Joe.

“Fine, whatever. If you don’t want me, I’ll go find someone who does!” She screamed again. Logging out of MySpace and opening a new tab in the browser, she typed Plenty of Fish into the URL bar. Rhonda created a profile on the dating site, noting her love of mashed potatoes and partying, and clicked the Register button.

Zero matches.

“You have got to me shitting me!” Rhonda yelled. She couldn’t believe it. “This dumb thing said I’m bound to find some dudes. How do I have NO matches?!”

Now, Rhonda could have given up there, but she was determined to meet someone, so she decided to look through other profiles of boys in the area. That’s when she stumbled upon Tom, a tall 28-year-old with a decent head of hair. His profile stated he was looking for a legitimate life partner, which wasn’t exactly what Rhonda wanted. I mean, she was only 18 years old. But still, Tom was super cute, so she pretended to be on the same page.

With a simple “Sup,” which remained Rhonda’s pickup line for quite some time after, a relationship blossomed between her and Tom. The two chatted sporadically for a week, exchanging numbers just in time for the weekend.

That Friday night, Rhonda walked to her friends’ dorm with a fifth of Burnett’s vodka, her drink of choice. It was custom for them to polish off a couple bottles before hitting the clubs downtown. In between shots, Rhonda told her friends about Tom.

“You’re totally going to call him tonight,” said Brody, a gay boy from California.

“I am not!” exclaimed Rhonda. “I don’t even know this dude. I don’t want to die!”

“Mmhmm, we’ll see,” replied Brody. He knew better.

And, of course, he was right. They hadn’t even been at the Liquid Room for an hour before Rhonda sent her “Sup” text. Tom responded immediately.

“Pick me up,” she told him, and he jumped at the opportunity. In less than a half hour, he was outside the club in his black pickup truck that was so big, Rhonda had to use a step and pull herself up into it. Tom introduced himself.

“Hey, hey, hey. Waddup, dude?!” Rhonda slurred and laughed. “Show me where you live!” Tom obeyed and drove Rhonda back to his house in the suburbs.

“Oh this is cute,” she exclaimed, jumping out of his truck and running to the front door. “Let me in, let me in!” she joked and banged on the door. A woman holding a small child answered.

“Um, hello?” she said, and Rhonda gasped. She was not expecting that. Who was this chick?!

“Hey mom. This is Rhonda,” responded Tom. Rhonda looked at Tom and then back at the woman and child.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize…” she stuttered.

“No, no, it’s okay. Come on in,” Tom’s mom replied. Apparently, she gave birth to Tom in her teens and got knocked up again in her early-to-mid 40s. Can you imagine?

Inside, in the living room, Rhonda completely ignored Tom and instead sat on the floor with his mom and baby sister, whom she played with for at least a half hour before Tom insisted they retreat to his bedroom.

“It was a pleasured meeting you!” Rhonda shouted and followed Tom upstairs. She wondered what his mom thought about her, a young drunk girl his son brought home late at night.

Once in his bedroom, Rhonda slammed the door shut and pushed Tom onto his king-sized bed. She straddled him, and the two made out for a long time before taking things under the covers.

“Give it to me, big boy,” she demanded and started to undress while Tom reached for a condom in his nightstand. Unfortunately for him, Rhonda was too drunk for play time. She barely took off any clothes before she gave up and started falling asleep. Tom rolled back over and saw Rhonda about to pass out.

“Oh. Well, good night,” he whispered and kissed her on the forehead.

“Good night,” Rhonda mumbled.

When she woke up the next morning, she saw that her bra was wrapped around her waist and her belt was draped over the bedframe. She was disoriented, but when she remembered the night before, she laughed.

“Hey, can you take me home?” she asked, nudging Tom to wake him up. They both got dressed and put on their shoes. Rhonda didn’t see Tom’s mom or his baby sister on the way out, but that’s okay, she wasn’t quite in the mood for another play session.

Again, she had to use a step and pull herself up into Tom’s truck. He drove her back to her dorm, where she jumped out without a hug or a kiss goodbye.

“Welp, see you later!” she yelled.

But she never did see him later. She never even returned his calls, even though she left her belt and a baby photo of her sister at his house. Don’t ask why she had a baby photo of her sister with her. It was a precious one, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t interested in seeing Tom again.

To this day, however, she does wonder about Tom. She hopes he found his life partner.