Chapter 1: Sold on Facebook Marketplace

Can you believe my online boyfriend sold me for $30 on Facebook Marketplace? Yep. Thirty bucks. Facebook Marketplace.

The listing literally said: "This simp will deliver Starbucks for free." I had to reread that twice.

The comments from total strangers and the jeers from his loser friends? Yeah, those hit hard. Seriously?

I scrolled through the comments, each one more ridiculous than the last. Some random dude wrote, "Bro, can I get fries with that?" Another chimed in, "She’ll probably Venmo you gas money too, king." After that one, I just had to pause and stare at the screen. Even his friends piled on, dropping laughing emojis and egging him on. My stomach twisted. Is this what passes for love now?

So that’s it? In the brain of a total moron, buying your partner a few affordable treats out of love makes you a simp? Give me a break.

Fine. If that’s how it is. Time to teach him how to treat people.

"Hey?" I sent, my finger hovering over the screen, heart pounding. The silence on the other end felt like a dare.

My phone kept buzzing with new Messenger notifications. For a second, I thought my online boyfriend had finally resurfaced after three days of ghosting. Reality smacked me in the face.

"You got sold by a jerk."

"[Screenshot] You should cut your losses. Don’t spend money on people you meet online anymore."

He said he’d seen me on Marketplace, thought it was pathetic, and bought the listing using my boyfriend’s contact info.

Turns out, it wasn’t my boyfriend coming back from the dead—it was a kind stranger doing a good deed.

"Thanks for the heads up. I’ll be more careful next time." Even after sending that, I didn’t feel any better, so I added, "Can you send me his Marketplace handle?"

He hesitated for a couple seconds, probably debating whether to expose the jerk, but in the end, he sent me a screenshot.

It took me two seconds to find the account.

The "transfer your simp" listing was gone, probably deleted after the deal, and his page was empty except for two posts selling used sneakers and one looking to buy a cheap PS5.

Seeing his rock-bottom, bargain-hunter budget just made me realize how absurd the world is. Ouch. That stung.

I let out a short, bitter laugh. The sneakers were those ugly, scuffed Nikes he always wore, and the PS5 post was written like a desperate plea: "Looking for PS5, must be cheap, please message." Honestly, it was almost comical.

After all, I really did buy a brand-new PS5 for this broke, scummy, walking red flag. It was probably still on its way.

At the time, I thought spending half a month’s freelance pay to make my boyfriend happy was totally worth it. Now it just felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. Nice move, Brooke.

Even as I plotted my revenge, I made sure to Venmo $30 to the kind stranger who’d bought the listing: "Thank you so much."

"No need, it was nothing."

He didn’t accept the payment for ages, which made me anxious to find another way to repay him.

"I saw from his posts that you’re local to Silver Heights University, right? Let me buy you dinner sometime."

I figured this would be an easier way for him to accept thanks, but he still wouldn’t budge: "Really, it’s nothing. Just be more careful in the future."

Finally, still unsatisfied, I asked, "Can you at least tell me your name?"

If I know his name, I’ll find a way to repay him eventually.

"Just call me Sam."

I could totally picture him shrugging, like he was used to helping out and not wanting any credit. The sort of guy who’d hold the door for you, then disappear before you could say thanks.