I read in last Sunday’s paper that California passed a new law designed to combat “revenge porn.” It imposes fines and even jail time on jilted lovers who post nude photos of former flames "with the intent to cause serious emotional distress." The only problem is, the law has two huge loopholes: It doesn’t apply to “selfies” (that is, self-shot pictures), and it doesn’t affect the Federal Communications Decency Act of 1996 (which shields website operators from liability for user-submitted content). Along with all those third-party “escort” and “massage” boards, we now have “revenge porn” sites flourishing on the Internet. And because many—if not most—of the nude pics posted on those sites are self-shot, many victims of “revenge porn” won’t have any redress under the new law.

So here’s my dumb question: Why in the world would anyone think it’s a good idea to send naked JPEG’s to a paramour in the first place?  I realize young people might view the practice as a playful gesture of intimacy and trust, but isn’t that the whole point to having sex? Why is it necessary to top off that most private of acts with an unclad photographic memento? Back in “my day,” we didn’t have camera phones, texting, or the Internet, so it’s hard for me to understand why anyone would consider a candid of his or her privates an appropriate gift, much less deliver it via email or text. And yet, this has now become a “thing” (as former U.S. Representative and New York City Councilmember Anthony Weiner can attest; his multiple “sexting” scandals cost him his run for N.Y.C. mayor). 


Sure, I had my share of steamy romances back in those prehistoric, pre-tech times. And while we ancient cave-dwellers didn’t know from today’s technology, we did have cameras. Never in a million years would I have allowed a man to photograph me naked, never mind take such a picture myself. For one thing, even on my youngest, thinnest day, I was never that proud of my bare bod to want it captured on film for posterity. But more to the point, even as a reckless twenty-something, some logical crevice of my brain realized that sexual romances—no matter how passionate—tend not to last forever. (In fact, the hotter the sex, the more fleeting the affair was apt to be.) I might have dug a guy enough to bring him home with me, but the notion of letting him lord pictorial control over my butt and boobs was just too great a risk. Why trifle with that all-too-prevalent male impulse to show off such a trophy, or worse yet, willingly tender something that could later be used to blackmail me? Those low-tech pitfalls have not changed from when I was single, so why do today’s sexual partners so readily submit their nakedness to the lightning speed and worldwide scope of Cyberspace?


Granted, it is a despicable thing to post a buff picture of a former lover on a “revenge porn” site. I am sure this causes no small degree of emotional distress and tangible harm to the exposed party, and I believe the perpetrators of such childish and contemptible behavior should be punished. But unlike other crimes such as identity theft, robbery, and rape (and except in those instances where someone is unknowingly photographed), “revenge porn” is absolutely, one hundred percent preventable—and perhaps the only instance where victims can legitimately be blamed. If you don’t take, send, or allow anyone else to snap naked shots of your body parts, they will never find their way onto the Internet—period.

In this age of instantaneous electronic dissemination, this tiniest bit of restraint would seem more obvious and essential than ever. But, then again, maybe I’m just too old and flabby to understand the temptation. Perhaps Anthony Weiner would care to explain it to me.