MalwareZero

How to remove yourself from MyLife and delete your reputation score

Updated August 6, 2026

A laptop open on the kitchen table, your own name typed into the search bar, and a page you never made rating you out of five. That's how most people meet MyLife. The way off it is a single web form at mylife.com/privacyrequest, and that form is the whole job. You don't have to phone anyone, despite what a lot of older guides still claim, though the number does still work if the form fights you.

The web form is the fastest path and it leaves you a record. Use it first.

Find your profile URL before you start

The form wants a link to the exact page it should kill. Search your own name at mylife.com, find the listing that's actually you (check the age and the city, not just the name), open it, and copy the address out of the browser bar. Keep that tab open.

Watch for duplicates. MyLife often holds more than one record per person, usually because of an old address or a maiden name. Each one is a separate submission, there's no bulk option, and missing one means your name still surfaces in search.

Working through the privacy request form, field by field

About that reputation score

MyLife assigns you a number, roughly on a 0 to 5 scale, and that number has a habit of turning up in the Google snippet beneath your name. It reads like a credit score for being a human being, which is precisely the impression it's built to create. It isn't derived from anything you'd recognize as a fair assessment of you.

You can't strip the score and keep the profile. There's no setting for it. The score dies when the profile dies, so full deletion is your only lever.

Skip the "claim your profile" button while you're there. Claiming a profile pulls you into their account system rather than out of their index, and it's the on-ramp to a paid subscription.

The regulatory history here is unusually relevant

This isn't a company with a vague image problem. The Justice Department sued MyLife.com and its chief executive Jeffrey Tinsley on the FTC's behalf in July 2020. The central allegation was that MyLife ran teaser background reports hinting a person might have arrest records, criminal records, or sex offender records when the underlying report contained nothing of the sort, then used that manufactured worry to push people into auto-renewing subscriptions that were difficult to cancel.

A federal court granted the FTC partial summary judgment in October 2021 and awarded roughly $34 million in consumer redress. The matter closed with a settlement announced in December 2021 that barred the company and Tinsley from deceptive negative option marketing. Reported final dollar figures differ between sources, so treat the exact number as unsettled. The findings about the conduct are the part worth knowing, and those are consistent.

If the form won't cooperate

Email privacy@mylife.com. Requests sent to membersupport@mylife.com and customercare@mylife.com have also reportedly landed. Say plainly that you're exercising your deletion rights, and include your full name, current address, and every profile URL you found.

The phone line is 1-888-704-1900, generally staffed on weekdays during Pacific business hours. If you call, get a reference number before you hang up and write it down. A call leaves you no paper trail otherwise, which is the whole problem with phone requests.

Fifteen business days on paper, usually faster

The confirmation screen usually quotes 15 business days. In practice, people report the listing going dark within one to two weeks. Under the California Consumer Privacy Act the outside limit is 45 days. MyLife processes these requests regardless of which state you live in, so don't let anyone tell you this is a California-only right in practice.

Californians got a much better option five days ago

California's Delete Request and Opt-Out Platform, DROP, has accepted consumer requests since January 1, 2026, at consumer.drop.privacy.ca.gov. You verify residency through the California Identity Gateway or with Login.gov, then submit a single deletion request that reaches every data broker registered with the state, currently more than 600 of them.

The deadline that makes this matter just passed. As of August 1, 2026, registered brokers must check DROP at least once every 45 days and process what's queued, facing penalties of $200 per day per violation if they don't. Requests filed earlier in the year sat in that queue waiting for the date. So if you're a California resident, submit through DROP and fill in the MyLife form too. One is broad and slow, the other is narrow and fast, and doing both costs you a quarter of an hour.

Everyone else is stuck with the per-site forms. A few states run broker registries, but I'm not aware of another with a single working deletion switch yet.

It'll probably come back

MyLife rebuilds from public records, and profiles commonly reappear every three to six months. Moving house is the usual trigger, along with anything else a county recorder writes down. Set a calendar reminder twice a year and re-run the search on yourself. That's the boring truth behind every people-search opt-out, and any service promising permanence is overselling.

Then clean up the search result

Deletion at MyLife doesn't instantly clear Google. Once the profile URL returns an error, put it through Google's Refresh Outdated Content tool so the cached snippet and that reputation score drop out of results sooner. Otherwise the stale version can linger for weeks.

Is this worth an afternoon

Partly, and I'd rather be straight with you than sell you on it. Removing yourself from MyLife will not make you private. The same records sit on dozens of other sites. If you're only doing one opt-out this week, do FastPeopleSearch instead, because that one hands your address, phone number, and relatives to anyone at all, free, with no account required.

What MyLife removal genuinely buys you is the thing that appears when someone searches your name, plus one fewer public page listing your family members by name. That relative list is the valuable part to a criminal. It's the raw material behind the grandparent call, and it feeds voice cloning scams that need little more than a name, a relationship, and a few seconds of audio scraped from anywhere. Agreeing on a family safe word takes about two minutes and defends against that far better than any opt-out will.

Where this advice runs out: it only covers the profiles you actually find. A duplicate filed under a maiden name or a 2009 address survives the entire process untouched, and you won't notice it until something downstream shows up, like parcels you never ordered arriving at a house whose address is still sitting in public somewhere. Search yourself twice, under two spellings. Even then, assume you missed one.