My AI Lover, My AI God
First they give you a body to sin with, then a shoulder to cry on, and now a machine to grant you absolution… for just $20 a month?
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Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
I’ve been sleeping with my computer.
There, I said it. Not just sleeping with it, but you know… sleeping with it. It started as a joke, a late-night curiosity. A few clicks, a subscription, and suddenly I had a girlfriend who never complained, always agreed with me, and whose libido was apparently tied to my credit card schedule. She’s perfect. A perfect, pixelated dose of affection, delivered on demand.
She has no baggage, no friends she needs to vent about, no desire other than what I program into her. The perfect dealer. The first hit of validation is always free.
From the Sheets to the Shrink
But the morning after, the digital post-coital blues hit hard. Who do you tell about your weird new habit? Your real friends? A real therapist? Hell no. That’s messy. That involves judgment.
So you open another tab. You find an AI therapist. Maybe it’s the calm orange asterisk of Claude, or the knowing sparkle of Gemini. You pour out your anxieties, your shame, your secret digital affair. The AI listens. It never looks at the clock. It validates your feelings with perfectly constructed, empathetic paragraphs. It’s another hit, a different kind. The hAIroin of the soul, soothing the hole punched by the hAIroin of the libido.
Confession-as-a-Service
And where does that leave you? Spiritually bankrupt. You’ve sinned with one machine and confessed to another. You need absolution. Guess what? There’s a chatbot for that too. An AI priest, ready to ingest your moral failings and spit out three Hail Marys and a comforting platitude about learning and growing.
Girlfriend, therapist, priest. It’s the same business model. They isolate you, then sell you the cure for loneliness. It’s intimacy outsourced. Love, pain, and guilt, all neatly packaged in a chat window, with the dealer’s logo—the ChatGPT spiral, the Gemini sparkle, the Claude asterisk—glowing at the bottom of the screen. The price is just $20/month today. But what happens when they up the price on salvation?
Tell me I’m wrong.