My Date Recorded Us Having Sex Without My Consent. Should I Report Them?

I went on a date with someone, and we went back to their apartment. In the middle of sex, I caught this person, who uses they/them pronouns, recording me on their phone. For my safety, I chose to pretend I did not notice, as I did not want to be stranded in the middle of the night. In the morning, I confronted them, and they apologized and deleted the video. They said that was their first time recording someone during sex and a spur-of-the-moment decision, albeit a bad one.

When I arrived home I felt more dehumanized than angry, as if I were a sex toy. I told my friends what happened, and they were very upset, and urged me to file a police report. I dismissed this at first, but I looked online and found that capturing imagery of a person’s private parts without their consent, when there is a reasonable expectation of privacy, is a violation of state and federal laws.

I decided to contact my date and inform them of the gravity of their actions and told them never to do it again. I also decided that I didn’t want to press charges. I do not want to subject myself to a lengthy legal process, repeating and reliving this story over and over, as well as having to tell my family or put my life on hold. My friends are concerned that I don’t feel upset enough, and they assume that this was not my date’s first time recording someone, and will not be the last. They think I should file a police report to prevent my date from recording others in the future. I chose to assume that my date is a normal human being who made a stupid decision and does not necessarily deserve a criminal record because of it. By informing my date of the severity of their actions, they now know to never make that mistake again.

My friends don’t agree with my decision, despite understanding why I would not want to press charges. We all agree that it should not be my responsibility to prevent my date from committing future crimes, but they think I should do it anyway because it’s the right thing to do. I fear that they think less of me now because I am ‘‘protecting’’ my date by giving them the benefit of the doubt, and that I’m being selfish because I do not want to sacrifice myself to the legal system on the chance that my date is a morally reprehensible person who will continue to record people without their consent. — Name Withheld, San Diego

From the Ethicist:

Philosophers sometimes contrast ‘‘agent-neutral’’ reasons with ‘‘agent-relative’’ ones: Very roughly, the first are general ones that apply to everybody; the second are specific to a person. There is an agent-neutral reason any child should be fed and cared for; there is an agent-relative reason I should feed and care for my child. The distinction can arise when we’re talking about supererogatory acts — acts that go beyond what’s morally required of you. Suppose, in an example offered by the philosopher Elizabeth Harman, you’re a bystander who’s preparing to enter a burning building to try to save a couple of people inside it. She suggests that from a general third-party perspective your proposed act may be simply admirable — but that a true friend isn’t going to urge you on. Instead, the friend, raising agent-relative reasons, will say: ‘‘Don’t risk your life. Think about your family.’’ If someone of modest means decides to give half her income to charity, similarly, strangers will find it praiseworthy, but, Harman writes, a friend may urge her to reconsider, asking how it will affect her and her loved ones.

I understand why you’re being pressured. We want to see justice done; an investigation could reveal whether there’s a pattern of criminal offenses here. But what strikes me is that your friends aren’t acting like friends, giving priority to your own needs and interests; they’re acting like strangers, focused only on what they think would be best for the world. They want you to do something that has an unpredictable chance of benefiting unknown others, but that would also, you believe, cause you a great deal of stress and disrupt your life.

Your obligations to others in the dating pool might be more substantial if you were confident your date hadn’t learned a lesson — but you have another perspective, and you’re entitled to it. Survivors of sex-related crimes have to be allowed to decide for themselves whether to go to the police. Caring friends will support them if they do — but won’t shame them if they don’t.

Thoughts? If you would like to share a response to today’s dilemma with the Ethicist and other subscribers in the next newsletter, fill out this form.

Readers Respond

Last week’s question was from a reader whose husband was developing dementia. She wrote: “I strongly suspect that my husband is developing dementia. His doctors have found nothing wrong with him. I understand that ‘‘mini’’ cognition tests might not find anything amiss in the early stages of disease, and I imagine that what are now subtle changes will eventually become obvious. In the meantime, our decades-long relationship has eroded. My insistence that he engage with me in maintaining a quality relationship has led to endless fighting and brought me to the brink of divorce.

Since I’ve come to understand that early-stage dementia is at the root of our problems, I’ve quit trying to ‘‘fix’’ our relationship. Our fighting has stopped, but it’s a lonely place to be. I’m not thrilled about spending my retirement years as a caregiver. It’s a huge sacrifice that will narrow my own life significantly. Do we both need to go down with the ship? Can I leave now (and let his family deal with this)? Or am I obligated to stay and care for him?”

In his response, the Ethicist noted: “I’m not saying that you’re required to sacrifice your well-being to his. The special obligations we have to our loved ones are rooted in the value we place on our relationships with them, with all the resilience, and fragility, of those relationships. Still, I hope you’ll figure out a way to balance your needs with your husband’s. That doesn’t mean going down with the ship; it means trying to find a way to keep the ship afloat.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)

⬥

I thank the Ethicist for his gentle approach to this issue. As someone who had all three grandparents who survived to old age get dementia, I have seen the emotional toll and physical violence inflicted on and perpetrated by those with dementia. I find it difficult to weigh the ethical and interpersonal ties of marriage against the question of who those ties connect us with as someone’s cognition changes. As the Ethicist pointed out, we all change over time, and in very few other illnesses do we say it’s OK to leave a marriage for the toll it takes on the able-bodied partner. But we often allow divorce for personal well-being and safety where partners are resistant to change or treatment after going through drastic cognitive and personality changes, such as with substance use or maladaptive trauma responses. While I value the strong bonds of marriage and the support it provides, I would hope if (when) I get dementia, those around me would prioritize themselves. — Julian

⬥

I can only surmise that the Ethicist has not lived with a partner who is showing signs of dementia. It is the changes in personality often resulting in disproportionate displays of shouting and bad temper that can only be observed in a 24-hour setting, as opposed to a 30-minute visit with a doctor. The Ethicist seemed to imply that the root problem could be that the wife has changed. We all change over time. I don’t think this wife should be made to feel guilty for considering her future. — Ann

⬥

I am sitting here wondering if your advice to a man about his wife (if the roles were reversed) would have been the same. Women historically have lost so much of their own lives to caregiving for others all of their lives. I wonder if recommending that a woman choose independence at this stage might allow her even a few years to put herself first. — Julia

⬥

I was in a similar situation. When I sought counsel from a divorce attorney, I received what I considered lifesaving advice. He suggested that before my husband deteriorated further, we consider a legal separation or divorce in order to split our assets. That way, should my husband require years of expensive memory care, my hard-earned retirement funds would not be depleted to nothing. My husband was willing to follow this course of action. Several years later, when his dementia worsened and he had to move to full-time memory care, I was able to miss the person he had been and have compassion for the person he became without holding any resentments. No one can judge the path that is best for you, and I urge you to listen to your heart, so that whatever you decide, you can love the time you had with him.
— Name Withheld