Scary Reddit Stories

Don't trust the men on Craigslist

If you’re going to judge me for meeting a stranger on Craigslist, I’d prefer that you stop reading right now.

I live with enough internal judgment as it is.

I was twenty. I had a used 1999 blue-green Toyota Corolla, social anxiety, and $19.13 in my bank account. It was the first semester of my junior year at Carleton College, and there were half a dozen get-togethers every weekend that I was running out of excuses to avoid.

So I decided that babysitting would be the perfect way to spend my Friday nights.

The thought of spending my weekend nights all alone, studying, while making nine dollars an hour soothed my neurons more than I could possibly say.

Don’t judge me. You don’t know my life.

So when I found Amy on Craigslist, everything seemed perfect. Chloe was five, Ivan was in his terrible twos. Get it?

After a week of email and text exchanges, I felt like I really knew her. She was 33 years old and a stay at home mom who was itching to get back into the workforce. “You’re perfect,” she had disclosed several times via text.

Nothing seemed sketchy. And if you can’t make a leap of faith at least once in a while, doesn’t that make for a miserable and empty existence?

*

I was the consummate professional. I had a pantsuit and everything (yes, I was wearing Converse to a job interview, but it was kid-friendly), and I was ready to charm the shit out of those fucking kids.

I pulled the Corolla in front of the house at 7:30 p. m. for the 8:00 interview, then sat and stared out the windshield for twenty minutes before walking in ten minutes early. Because, you know – the anxiety.

It was already dark by that time in the Minnesota October, and I slipped my way up the frozen cement walkway in an oversized parka and mittens. I rang the doorbell with my thumb and waited. As I watched my breath rise up in plumes, I imaged all the bad things that might be happening behind that door. I couldn’t help it.

I was relieved when it finally opened, and extremely tense when it wasn’t Amy.

Unless Amy was a baby-faced man-child with a creepy smile.

He stared at me, pale-faced, for several awkward seconds. Then his eyes started to gravitate past my neck, and toward my chest.

“Um,” I stated awkwardly.

His eyes snapped back up to mine, and he offered a delighted smile. “Come on in. Um, Amy, she’s my aunt, and she’s in the back with Chloe and Ivan.”

I watched the steam rise in front of me as I breathed a sigh of relief. He knew everyone’s name. That meant he could be trusted.

Right?

I walked into the house, past the staircase, and he snapped the door shut behind me.

It was a pretty nice place, to be honest. He walked past me, deeper inside, without offering to take my coat. I waited for a beat, then took it off, looked around, and left it on the floor.

I really didn’t want to inconvenience anyone by asking where I should put it.

I kept the mittens on, because my pantsuit had no pockets.

Trotting quickly, I followed him into the kitchen. We went through and came out into a living room, where he sat down on the couch. He patted the cushions next to him. I froze in place at the thought of sitting next to a stranger.

After an uncomfortable silence, I finally addressed the stranger (which I hate doing). “So…. will I be meeting the kids tonight?” I paused. “Because, I, ah…. thought I’d be meeting the kids tonight.”