Lately I've been wondering if I'll end up on the sex offender registry. Not because I have any intention of harming anyone, but because it has recently come to my attention that in a flurry of joie de vivre I might have broken a sex law.

You see, I keep hearing these stories of mild infractions that led to listing on the sex-offender registry alongside child molesters, rapists and abusive spouses. There's the girl who bared her ass out a bus window in college and pled guilty to indecent exposure – and then couldn't become an elementary school teacher because of her sex offense. Then there's the guy who peed on a bush in a park and was convicted of public lewdness, a sex offender because he couldn't find a bathroom.

I suspect these are urban legends that have yet to appear on Snopes. At best, they must be misunderstandings of what actually happened. We can't really be that stupid, can we?

But then I remember that substitute teacher Julie Amero faces up to 40 years in prison for … well, no one is really sure what for anymore, but it has to do with pornographic pop-ups appearing on the classroom computer and whether she did enough to protect the children. (She is scheduled to be sentenced on April 26.)

That she was charged with a crime at all is just as ridiculous as branding a college student a "sex offender" simply for being nakedly obnoxious.

I don't have a police record, although I did break sex laws in Georgia around the turn of the century. (I'm sure the statute of limitations has run out on those by now.) Also, I once got a speeding ticket in a rental car.

But sometimes I do skirt the edge of the law when it comes to sex. And if you've ever ducked into the bushes for a little al fresco fondling, so have you.

Unfortunately, even in California, it's not technically legal to make discreet love in public spaces, even in your truck, even if it has a camper shell with dark windows and Liberator furniture, even if no one can see you without pressing his nose to the glass or hoisting her children up over her head.

And if a passerby does intrude on your personal moment, it's no longer a matter of "OK kids, pack it up and get out of here." A witness's cell-phone video could be on the internet within five minutes. A busybody might even feel justified in calling the police.

"If someone saw something that offended them and they wanted to sign a citizen's arrest, the officer is obliged to take the citizen's arrest," says Inspector Poelstra of the Sexual Offender Unit of the San Francisco Police Department, who spoke with me by phone.

In other words, if you're into public sex (and I'm not, but sometimes things happen), you might want to stick with the internet. It's safer.

But could you find yourself applying for living space under a bridge in Florida with the five sex offenders who received official permission to stay homeless because they can't find apartments they can legally rent?

Unlikely. It's still a long way from Point A – getting caught with your pants down – to Point B – becoming a convicted sex offender and listed on a Megan's Law website.

You know about Megan's Law, more formally known as 42 U.S.C. 14071 (d). Each state enacts it differently, but in essence it requires certain sex offenders to keep the government apprised of their addresses for several years (often at least 10) after their convictions. It also requires states to maintain a directory of certain sex offenders, including their pictures, home addresses, violations and physical descriptions.

That's where you can find out how many sex offenders live in your zip code – 74 for me – and in many cases their exact locations. It was also instrumental in Kevin Poulsen's exposé of sex offenders on MySpace.

To end up in the database, though, you need to be arrested, charged, prosecuted, convicted of a qualifying crime and sentenced. Most of the qualifying crimes involve force: rape, child molestation, assault. The intent to commit a sex crime is enough, so a kidnapper who intends to rape his captive can be charged with the sex offense even if he doesn't perform the rape.

Browsing through the Megan's Law websites, two things quickly become clear. One, no one looks their best in a mug shot – I've never seen so many creepy looking people in one place. And two, harmless flashers and consensual lovers are not lumped in with the dangerous criminals after all.

I spent Monday night reading the sections of the California Penal Code relevant to Megan's Law and discussing it with an IM buddy while sipping a glass of wine. (And people say geeks aren't romantic. Please.)

I am not a lawyer and this is not legal advice. But it appears that you can do almost anything in California, sexually speaking, if everyone involved is a living, consenting adult – and it happens in private or online.

No wonder the real estate prices are so ridiculously high. I'd move here too if I didn't already live here.

Yet indecent exposure for the sake of sexual gratification is also on the Megan's Law sex-offense list, and that worried me just a bit.

"A streaker running across the park or the football field or something, he's just trying to be a knucklehead, it's not for sexual gratification," says Poelstra. "To prosecute him under (California Penal Code section) 314.1 (for indecent exposure) would probably not happen, not in California. But in some states the law is a lot different than it is here."

Any public flashing of naughty bits on my part is accidental. But I couldn't honestly claim that I wasn't interested in sexual gratification on those very occasional occasions. I doubt "we just couldn't keep our hands off each other for another second" is an effective defense.

Yet it's a comfort to know that the law still distinguishes between perpetrators who pose real danger to the community and those who don't.

"Sex offense" has taken on new meaning since the internet made it a household phrase and parents have – we all have – become more aware of pedophilia and online solicitation. We freak out at the label even when the crime in question is relatively harmless. Rape is a sex crime, but so is flashing. And while I'd rather not have someone leap in front of me and display the full Monty, that experience is certainly nowhere near the violation of assault. Neither is stumbling upon consensual adults sneaking a quickie in the dunes on a beautiful Saturday morning.

Whew.

As for mooning or peeing landing you in the public registry, I could almost hear the inspector shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "That's not true," he declared. "That's not even close to true."

See you next Friday,

Regina Lynn

Regina Lynn is much more likely to be reading than making love in her truck bed. Alas.*

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