From Craigslist to Backpage to Listcrawler: How We Got Here

A younger guy at a hotel bar in Nashville asked me last spring how people "found this stuff" before apps. He was maybe 24. I felt about a hundred years old. Then I realized I actually could answer him, because I'd been around for basically every version of it. The Craigslist years, the Backpage years, the weird six months where everything broke, and now the era of Listcrawler and sites like it.

So this is that answer, written down. It's not a legal history and I'm not a historian. It's just what it looked like from my couch, my dorm room, and a lot of mediocre hotel rooms.

Craigslist, a flip phone, and a dorm in Columbus

I was a sophomore at Ohio State in 2009. I had a Motorola Razr that I'd been told was cool four years earlier and a Dell laptop with a sticky trackpad. Craigslist was the internet's garage sale. You bought a couch on it. You found a sublet on it. And if you clicked a little further down the page, there was a whole other section that every guy in my hallway knew about and nobody admitted to reading.

Honestly, I mostly lurked. I was nineteen and broke and terrified. My roommate Kyle read the personals out loud like they were comedy sketches, which, to be fair, some of them were. The whole thing felt like a back alley of a very boring website. Plain blue links. No photos half the time. Zero design.

September 2010: the first door closes

Craigslist pulled its adult services section in the US in September 2010, after a lot of pressure from state attorneys general. I remember it because Kyle came back from class and said "they killed it" like a sports team had moved cities. In its place there was just a black bar that said "censored." That was the whole announcement, more or less.

What didn't close was the personals section. So people just moved over there. Same crowd, new tab. I didn't realize at the time that this was going to be the pattern for the next fifteen years: something shuts down, everyone picks up their stuff and walks one door over.

The Backpage years

After graduation I took a job in Indianapolis doing logistics software, which meant a lot of travel. Louisville, Cincinnati, Detroit, the occasional week in Dallas. I had an iPhone 4 by then and I thought I was very sophisticated.

Backpage was the place in those years. Everyone knew it. It looked like it had been designed in a hurry by someone who hated color, and the ads were a total mess. Real people mixed in with obvious fakes, reposts every twenty minutes, phone numbers spelled out in words to dodge filters. You had to squint at everything. I used it sparingly and mostly on the road, partly because I didn't trust it and partly because I was still that nervous kid from the dorm, just with a corporate card and a Marriott account.

The thing I remember most is how much reading it took. You'd scroll through fifty posts to find two that looked like a real person wrote them. That skill turned out to be useful later.

Spring 2018: everything at once

In March 2018 Congress passed FOSTA-SESTA, a pair of bills that made websites more legally responsible for what users posted. Craigslist shut down its personals section within days. Then in April 2018, federal authorities seized Backpage and its homepage was replaced with a seizure notice. The bill itself was signed into law a few days after that.

People have strong opinions about all of that, in every direction, and I'll leave the debate to people who know more than me. What I can tell you is what it felt like. I was in a hotel in Grand Rapids when a coworker texted me a screenshot of the Backpage seizure page with no comment. Just the screenshot. That was a pretty good summary of the mood.

The clone summer

The next few months were chaos. Sites popped up with names that were obviously riffing on Backpage, some of them basically the same layout with a different logo slapped on top. Some lasted a few weeks. Some lasted a few days. Half of them were loaded with pop-ups and redirects, the kind that make your phone vibrate and tell you you've won a gift card.

My buddy Dave, a guy I worked with in Indy, clicked through one of these on his Galaxy and spent the next week with his browser hijacked to some fake antivirus page. He had to factory reset the whole phone. He still brings it up. "The summer of the clones," he calls it, like a horror movie franchise. I mostly stayed away that year. Nothing felt stable enough to bother with.

Aggregators and the move to Chicago

Around late 2018 I transferred to Chicago and got an apartment in Lakeview that was mostly radiator. That's also when I started hearing about sites like Listcrawler and Escort Alligator, which worked differently than the old classifieds. Instead of trying to be the one place everyone posted, they organized listings by city and category in a way that was actually readable. You picked your city, you picked a section, you browsed. It sounds basic. Compared to Backpage it felt like moving from a flea market to a store with aisles.

I didn't try it right away. It took a work friend mentioning it at happy hour in 2019, and then ten days of opening and closing the tab, before I did anything. That's its own story. If you want the mechanics of how it works now, the walkthrough guide covers it better than I can here.

The phone became the whole thing

Here's a change people underrate. In the Craigslist days I browsed on a laptop. In the Backpage days it was half laptop, half phone, and the phone version was miserable. By 2019 I don't think I opened a laptop for any of this ever again. Everything was on my phone, in bed, in an airport gate in Charlotte, in a rideshare that smelled like vanilla air freshener.

That shift changed how the ads themselves looked. Shorter text. Bigger photos. Stuff written to be read with a thumb. It also changed the risks, because now everything lived on the same device as your texts, your photos, and your family group chat. I learned that one the hard way more than once.

Then came the scam wave

Somewhere around 2020 and 2021 the fakes got smarter. Before, a fake ad was usually just stolen photos and bad grammar. Now there were whole scripts. Ads that looked perfect, replies that came back instantly, and then a story about needing you to "verify" yourself through some outside link or app. My friend Marcus in Atlanta got strung along for a full afternoon by someone who turned out to be nobody at all. He was embarrassed for about a month and then started telling the story at parties, which is the correct way to handle that.

That era is a big reason I'm so picky now. I read ads the way I used to read Backpage, slowly, looking for the stuff that doesn't add up. Reviews help too, and so does just having been burned enough to notice patterns. I wrote up the warning signs in the safety tips guide.

Where it all sits in 2026

I'm 35 now. I've got an iPhone I'm still paying off, a place in Chicago with better heat, and the same travel schedule that started all this. What I notice most is how ordinary it feels. Not in a bad way. The site works, the city pages are organized, the ads are mostly readable, and the people posting have gotten a lot more deliberate about how they present themselves.

It's not perfect. Fakes still exist. Sites still come and go, and I fully expect something to change again in the next few years, because something always does. But the gap between the Craigslist "censored" bar and what I open on my phone today is enormous. I wrote a more opinionated take on the current state of things in the truth about Listcrawler in 2026, if you want the version without the nostalgia.

The kid at the Nashville bar, by the way, just nodded and said "so it was like Reddit but worse." Not entirely wrong.

See what your city looks like today

The easiest way to see how far things have come is to look for yourself. Find your city, browse for a few minutes, and compare it to whatever you remember from back in the day.