We’d been apart for six months, and our text conversations were going the way of summer’s leftover hot dog buns, sitting forgotten in my cupboard: stale. Stale! We were two young 20-somethings. We were crazy about each other. Yet, with the crippling physical distance between us, we could feel ourselves getting stale. So one night, I sat on my bed, took off my clothes and snapped a picture on my phone’s front-facing camera and hit _send_.

If you limit “sexting” to only the visual, screenshot-capable type of photograph exchange, then yes, that was my first. For me, it felt like the natural evolution from a few years’ worth of digital sexual communication.

First, there were the flirty emojis. Then the booty calls, both of the subtle and of the even subtler, “Hey, get in my bed” variety. Then, the more creative messages/emails sent during a slow economics class or trips out of town.

These avenues were fun, and they were also easy to deny if, for some reason, I ran for president in 2030 and wanted to make sure no one thought I’d ever been a sexual human before.

Before that night, I’d been thinking a lot about taking the next “step.” A lot of people have done it. Jennifer Lawrence did it. Kate Upton did it. Olivia Munn’s character in “The Newsroom” did it. Arguably, [everyone does it.](https://medium.com/matter/everybody-sexts-4937de2bc1d7)

Even more so, though, I thought about how long distance had changed my relationship. We’d gone from being a couple who unanimously decided to sprint home and get busy only 15 minutes into our first conversation, to a couple that amiably chatted every day about school, work and journalism. So, one day, tired of missing each other’s bodies, as typical young adults do, we brought up the idea of sending provocative photographs to each other.

And the result was electrifying. Instantly, we felt like two 20-somethings again: having fun, sharing ourselves, reminding each other that we were two rather attractive individuals.

So, I’m not saying that sexting, like, _saved_ my relationship, or that it’ll have the same effect on yours. There are a lot of reasons why you should definitely, absolutely _not_ sext.

Ultimately, though, it’s your body. If you’re 18 or older, doing it out of your own free will and desire to express yourself as a hottie, and sending them to someone who is eager to receive them and who you trust enough to keep it to themselves, then why not?

_But Edna!_ you may gasp, especially in light of the celebrity photo leaks from this year. _Don’t you worry about hackers?!_

My reasoning is this: Let’s say I wrote an extremely personal diary entry in Microsoft Word and saved it into my computer/cloud thing. And some devious hackers get in, find it and post it online for the entire world to see. What are you going to think? _Silly Edna, she shouldn’t have been writing down these personal details into a digital document on a computer she owns._ No. You’d be livid, right along with me, because that is a total and unforgivable invasion of privacy.

So why are private photographs treated any differently? All those poor female celebrities whose photos got hacked are getting chewed out for simply having these photos in the first place, as if they shouldn’t possess a certain kind of content if they aren’t prepared to deal with the consequences of _illegal activity_.

Um, if you had an item of private content with you while walking down the street (let’s say a Pulitzer Prize-winning manuscript in your pocket), and someone tackled you and stole it, you can bet your ass you wouldn’t be feeling bad about “having it” in the first place. You would lawyer up and go get ‘em.

Sexting is fun and sexy and literally takes the idea of “a picture is worth 1,000 words” to a whole new level. Don’t let anyone tell you or make you feel differently. If you’re an adult and you want to extend this certain part of your life into the digital realm, then who’s to say no? You’re effing hot. Let someone know that today.

_Love,
Edna_