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A year ago, I'd never heard of normal women trolling Craigslist looking for no-strings sex. But recently, I became one of them.

It had been two years since I'd last had sex (I know, I know). I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands. My friend and I laughed about finding an easy way for me to get laid, bandying about out many "40 Year Old Virgin"-esque pickup bar strategies. Then, she laughed and said that I should "just put an ad on Craigslist, like everybody else."

Going In
I always thought of Craigslist as a place to peruse job listings, or maybe get a great deal on a used entertainment center. But later, though, the idea suddenly started to make sense. Why not use Craigslist for sex? So, I did some "research" and put up an ad in the Casual Encounters section.

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The Ad
I didn't want to be super-specific or reveal my identity right away with a pic, but I wrote that I was essentially frustrated and horny; wasn't looking for love, just a one-night thing to potentially become a several-night thing. I got dozens of responses. It only took so long to weed out the creeps who sent pics of their penis, and then I was left with four good prospects.

The front-runner described himself as being a bit older than me, a photographer with an apartment in a hip neighborhood. His picture was decent, so after he emailed me his number, I called during a break from my part-time restaurant gig.

I'd used a fake name, just in case he turned out to be a cannibal or potential stalker, so calling and saying, "This is Amanda," felt weird. His name was Owen and he had a proper, vaguely British-sounding accent that I later found out came from a childhood spent in South Africa.

The Meet-Up
I suddenly felt bold, like someone out of a Cosmo story, and I told him I could come over to his place after my shift at the restaurant was over. The entire time I spent seating customers at work seemed interminable. I was distracted and kept thinking back to our short convo, and how absolutely badass it was of me to find and initiate the hook-up.

Finally, my shift was over and I drove to the address he'd given me. When I was outside of his apartment, I rang the buzzer and waited by the door, next to a young couple who were making out.

I was a little embarrassed when an old man walked past me on his way out of the building, so I turned away and rang the bell again. But then the old guy, who had a long mane of crazy gray hair, the walked toward me and said, "Amanda?"

Going Upstairs
I recognized the accent that had seemed so sexy earlier. I must have looked stricken as I peered into his old man's face, searching for the nice-looking young guy in the photos. I wanted so bad to turn and run, but I was paralyzed.

So, I just nodded and followed him up the stairs, shocked and blanking as I tried to think of an exit plan. Owen kept peering back at me, his eyes bugged, drinking in my cherry-print sundress. I wanted to gag.

His apartment was a mess; boxes everywhere, dishes in the sink. My disgust must have shown because he told me that he was packing to move, before unceremoniously ushering me toward his bedroom.

I guess it was understandable, given the nature of our meeting, but I still felt a little slighted that this old guy who I was so repulsed by didn't even try to sweet talk me a little.

The Denouement
I sat down on his lumpy brown comforter and watched him take off his shoes, wondering if I could actually go through with it. I tried to stir up the hormone-filled emotions that led me to desperately seek desperate sex.

Either way, panic took over. Before Owen finished unbuttoning his shirt, I leapt up and headed for the door, stammering, "I'm sorry. I have to go...I forgot that I have to meet someone soon." I didn't wait for him to respond. I ran out of his apartment and down the stairs, while the whole time behind me I heard, "Amanda! Amanda!"

I ran the half-block to my car, hastily pulled out of my curbside spot and barreled down the street, vowing to never venture onto Craigslist again... Well, not unless I really, really need it. And then I'll be sure to meet somewhere public and with really, really great lighting.

Beth Brennan is the pseudonym that allows Lemondrop bloggers and guest writers to retain their dignity after not having sex for two years and then almost freaking on an old man.