Self-esteem after a sexual identity theft

A wise man once said that once something goes on the Internet, it exists there forever. Anything we put on the World Wide Web could come back to haunt us. But I’d thought I hadlong made peace with this – noting I would never run for President – so everything should be OK.

Having been a relentlessly-teased teenager, I became an insecure adult no matter how much my aunts pinched my cheeks and told me I was a handsome young man. Instead, I gathered confidence when people looked at me sexually.

When I didn’t get enough attention in the real world, I turned to a digital camera, and the Internet. I’d steadily lose articles of clothing in photos for recipients who were steadily more eager to see them.

As I became a more confident adult, I let go of the need for cyber-approval. But like a former smoker, I occasionally craved the exhibitionist side-hobby. When I met my partner, Luke, he didn’t approve. He worried that one day the photos could stand in the way of greater things. I guffawed and convinced him that the photos were self-empowering, or at least harmless.

Technology advanced and the Internet escaped boxy desktop screens, spreading to cell phones and tablets. The community of sexy self-photo swappers grew at a rapid pace when these gadgets combined camera, computer and phone in one hand-held pocket device. The term “sexting” became a public crisis – existing not only forever, but everywhere.

One night, Luke, relaxing on the couch, received a couple of texts from an old friend. With a confused look on his face, he turned and asked if I’d had posted an ad on Craigslist. I said yes; I’d inquired about vegan lifestyles there.

Seemingly skeptical, Luke said “My friend came across your ad and said you look fucking hot.”

My self-esteem soared – someone had called me attractive! Then the alarm went off. My ad had been platonic; I hadn’t included pictures. I asked Luke to get the link.

To my horror, there was I: In the Denver “m4m” section as “Jocked Fun,” in some very revealing undergear.

“Jocked up stud looking for some fun…” the ad read, “Love jocks and briefs and open to anything. Your pics get more of mine. Don’t bother if you don’t have pics in jocks or briefs.”

I wasn’t sure what was more terrifying: the fact that people would think I was “open to anything” while I had a loving partner by my side, or the idea that I would try to pass myself off as 28 (I’m 30). The imposter was on a mission to collect photos from more guys, and from the sound of it of it had more photos of me dish up in exchange.

I carefully crafted a response to the author that I, while flattered, would file a lawsuit if I caught him using my pictures again. As I contacted Craigslist to have them remove the ad, I found out I actually did have legal recourse – the stranger may have thought he merely used random photos to draw in his prospects, but something like that could really damage a person’s life.

For days I trolled Craigslist to see if it happened again. But the endless galleries of disembodied cocks became too much: Like a penis bargain bin at the neighborhood Goodwill.

I’d long come to terms with the fact that my photos would exist online forever, but hadn’t considered they’d be selfishly misused. Once again, my needy ego issues brought me to a confusing crossroad. I would either have to make peace with this new twist, or learn how to get my self esteem somewhere besides sexualizing myself for strangers.