Just because I hadn’t been banned from anything in my life before didn’t mean it couldn’t start now. There’s a first time for everything, see, and here’s where my story begins.
In the throes of wedding preparation in early January, I stepped into Facebook Marketplace, a magical realm I had only heard of in legends. It was real, though, and my curiosity turned to glee as I spied bride after bride on the platform offloading her reception wares at incredible prices. Never mind the driving to pick up those purchases, which took me around Minnesota and into Wisconsin. Did I want to scurry to Andover for additional brass candlesticks? Of course. Could I race to Golden Valley for another candelabra? Absolutely. Did Husband need to hustle to Bloomington for more cheesecloth table runners? One hundred percent.
It was likely around that same time I learned of the hidden joy of Buy Nothing groups on Facebook. I wanted in and now. Wouldn’t it be lovely to gather needful pieces for free AND donate my own cast-offs to group members?
While several Buy Nothing groups operated in my area, I joined the first one to pop up. Months flowed by, however, in my hurry to do other things (like my day job), and my frantic scuttling erased all memory of ever having joined a group. Did it really happen? I searched my Facebook connections and memberships. Nothing. Maybe I only meant to jump into a group, and I never did.
I clicked on a Buy Nothing group in my area—one close to me—requesting to join. Minutes later, an admin slid into my DMs, as the kids would say, her message curt. I was already a member of her group, she said, and she saw I was trying to join another group—a grievous sin that violated their rules. How dare I? Maybe she didn’t use the word sin, but it was clear she wouldn’t forgive me anytime soon.
I typed a response, words tumbling from my fingers to justify my actions. I hadn’t recalled signing up the first time, I explained. I had even checked and couldn’t find my membership, I clarified. I hadn’t meant anything by it, I apologized. She responded with a thumbs up and promptly canceled me.
Slack-jawed, I limped out of the chat. My airway narrowed. Now instead of a future of Buy Nothing delights, I’d have to Buy Everything.
And that’s where my story ends.
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