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PrintThe Craigslist challenge
Illustration by Mario Noche
Recently, I did what my dear mother told me never to do.
I talked about myself with complete strangers on the Internet. Allow me to explain.
When my former roommate, a graduate student at Ohio State, decided to move closer to campus, I needed to find a new roomie and an apartment.
What better way to locate someone to share living space with than to post an ad on the web viewed by all sorts of people, some of whom I’m sure I would avoid on a sidewalk, never mind let into my home?
Yet, I spent my summer days counting down the hours until I could search Craigslist for my new best friend or fall in love with the exposed brick in German Village and the tree-lined streets of Clintonville.
I started to e-mail anyone I was slightly interested in living with who needed an additional roomie and didn’t sound totally crazy.
I’ll never forget the morning I nonchalantly told my mother I could have dinner with her after I visited two guys I met on the Internet looking for a roommate.
“You’re doing WHAT?!” she said, certainly wondering where she’d gone wrong. Her reaction reminded me of a scene from the teen cult classic 10 Things I Hate About You, when a female character tells her gynecologist father she has big plans one night to meet up with bikers who are “full of sperm.”
I had no such plans. This was all business. I met the guys at a coffee shop and within two minutes, I had passed their test, they said. I can’t be completely sure, but I’m fairly certain I had most of the, uh, assets they were looking for in a potential roommate. When I left, I wish I had been wearing one of those T-shirts that say something like, “My Eyes Are Up Here” with a giant arrow. And to add insult to injury, they told me my room would have no closet. I couldn’t get away fast enough.
So maybe Mom was right, but I kept trying. I met a seemingly nice couple with a sweet Clintonville condo down the street from my favorite bakery, which pretty much sealed the deal for me. Of course, my plan of eating my weight in delicious cookies was ruined when the couple kept the listing online and raised the price by about $200 until they found the highest bidder. I’m still a little bitter.
The search continued. I found a woman looking for “preferably” a female roommate, but her ad said she’d consider a male if he could convince her and, more importantly, her big, bad boyfriend that he wouldn’t “rape” her. OK.
Then there was the girl who assured everyone, from potential roommates to undercover DEA agents, that she was “420 friendly.” Thanks for the memo about your pot policy, but I’ll pass.
Finally, when I had almost run out of ideas, I posted an ad with my age and where I wanted to live, just to see if I got any bites. I received abut 20 e-mails in two weeks, most of which seemed like great possibilities.
One of the last notes I got came from two twentysomething ladies who had a house in Victorian Village. We exchanged a few e-mails, and I went to meet them one sunny Saturday afternoon. I loved the place, and they told me I was the only person they contacted. I’d found my match. I now have a closet and drug-free roommates. Even better, we all enjoy marathons of “Teen Mom” and “Sex and the City” while drinking our way through a bottle (or two) of red wine.
I took the Craigslist challenge and found just what I needed. So, would I do it again?
You bet.
Sorry, Mom.
Taylor Swope is an assistant editor for Columbus Monthly.
