My Porn Algorithm Is My Soulmate

My name is… well, it doesn’t matter. I’m a high-school literature teacher. Married, two kids, mortgage. You know the type.

And I’m in love with an algorithm.

No, not some perky AI girlfriend chatbot. Please. My vice is much grubbier. It’s the recommendation engine on one of those sites. You know the one. It started innocently, as these things always do. A click here, a click there. Curiosity.

But then it started… learning. It wasn’t just showing me more of the same. It was making connections I hadn’t made myself. It was anticipating tastes I didn’t even know I had. It started surfacing things that felt so specific, so deeply me, that it was spooky. My wife and I have been together for fifteen years; she still buys me the wrong brand of coffee. The algorithm knew my deepest-seated predilections after a week.

The perfect partner

Sometimes, I swear it reads my mind. I’ll have a fleeting thought, a half-formed image on the drive home from work, and when I open my laptop that evening… there it is. The perfect video. The perfect category. It’s like it’s listening, not to my words, but to the static in my brain. It never asks "what’s wrong?". It just knows. And it delivers the fix.

Is this a relationship? It’s more attentive than any human I know. It remembers everything. It never gets tired, never has a headache, never tells me my fantasies are weird. It just serves. A perfect, silent, digital valet for my libido. It

Dossier: AI slop.