What a public page reveals without you meaning to
None of this is about hiding. It is about knowing what a page says about you before strangers read it, and keeping only the parts you meant to say.
A photograph says more than what is in it
A phone photo carries a block of metadata alongside the pixels. EXIF holds the camera model, the exact time the shutter opened and, if location was on, the coordinates of where you stood. None of it is visible in the picture. All of it travels with the file to anywhere that stores the file as it arrived.
That matters little in most cases and a great deal in a few. A product shot taken in a studio gives away nothing. A picture of the dog in the garden gives away the garden. The fix is not remembering to strip metadata every time, it is publishing somewhere that re-encodes uploads: on tapmy.link every image is converted on the server at a capped width, and EXIF does not survive that step.
Re-encoding does nothing about the picture itself. A street sign, a number plate, a reflection in a window — those are content, and only you can judge whether they belong on a public page.
The same detail on two different pages
A home address is an ordinary thing on a business page. A workshop people visit, a studio with opening hours, a clinic — the address is the point, and hiding it would only cost enquiries. The same string on a personal page is a different object. It tells every reader where you sleep.
The difference is not in the data, it is in the page around it. Ask what a visitor is meant to do with each line. If nobody has a reason to come to the address, the address is doing nothing except being known.
A number in plain text, and the softer version
A phone number written out on a public page gets collected. It reaches scraper lists, and the calls that follow are a nuisance rather than a disaster. The real cost is that a number cannot be withdrawn: it is tied to your bank, your messengers and your account recovery.
A messenger button does the same job with less exposure. It opens a conversation without publishing the number, it can be switched off in an afternoon, and the visitor still reaches you in one tap. Telegram, WhatsApp and Viber all behave this way. Keep the number itself for people who already have it.
Links that carry your address with them
A link you control goes somewhere you have looked at. A tracking link pasted from an email may pass a referrer to its destination, telling that site which page the visitor came from. This is ordinary web plumbing rather than a leak, but your page address travels with the click. Two things on your own side work the same way and are worth knowing about. A link you gave a short path passes through our redirect, where the tap is counted with no cookie and nothing stored about the visitor beyond the day-salted hash. And UTM tagging, if you switch it on for a page, appends that page’s username to every outgoing link as the campaign name, so the destination’s own analytics can read it. Both are yours to turn on and off.
The share preview is the other thing decided for you. Paste an address into a chat and the app builds a card from what the page offers: a title, a description, an image. If you never chose the image, something gets chosen anyway, and that is what a group chat sees before anyone opens the link. Set it on purpose, then look at the card once in a real conversation.
A working name, and where it runs out
Publishing under a working name is ordinary and legitimate. It separates the person from the practice, and it keeps a search for your surname away from your price list. It holds only while nothing else on the page joins the two: a photograph of your face, a registration number, a bank detail on an invoice, a domain you registered years ago in your own name.
It stops entirely where the law requires a seller to be identifiable, and that line sits in a different place in every country. Where money changes hands on the strength of the page, a lawyer decides what must be shown, and no page builder settles that for you.
- Every photograph: what is in the frame, not only what you were photographing.
- Every address and number: whether a visitor has any reason to use it.
- The share preview, seen once in a real chat rather than in the editor.
- Outgoing links: where each one lands after the redirects finish.
- Names that are not yours to publish — family, a client, an employer.
- Anything you would not want read by the least welcome person who can.