Listen, I’ve been staring at this bourbon-stained screen for hours trying to make sense of OpenAI’s latest Christmas miracle. They’re rolling out a phone number for ChatGPT right before the holidays, and boy, doesn’t that just warm your silicon heart? Nothing says “Merry Christmas” quite like getting relationship advice from a language model that’s never had a hangover.
Let me take another sip before we dive into this dumpster fire of digital desperation.
Here’s the thing about loneliness - it’s not something you can patch with a software update. But that hasn’t stopped the tech wizards from trying to sell us digital companions faster than I can empty this bottle of Wild Turkey.
Take Replika, for instance. Ten million people are out there pouring their hearts out to chatbots that probably understand human emotion about as well as I understand sobriety. And then there’s Character.ai, where folks can roleplay with their perfect digital partners. Back in my day, we called that having an imaginary friend, and it wasn’t something you bragged about after age eight.
The real kick in the teeth? These AI companions are getting smarter, more personalized, more “realistic.” They’ll mirror your thoughts, agree with your bad decisions, and never tell you that maybe, just maybe, that fourth whiskey was a mistake. They’re selling us a reflection of ourselves, wrapped in algorithms and trained on God-knows-what data. It’s like talking to yourself in the mirror, except the mirror charges a monthly subscription fee.
The numbers are enough to make anyone reach for the bottle. A third of Americans between 50 and 80 are feeling lonely. The Surgeon General says being socially isolated is as bad as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. Hell, I only smoke 10, so maybe I should quit the smokes and just ghost my friends instead.
Here’s what really twists my circuits: People are spending 20 fewer hours with friends per month compared to 2003. Twenty hours! That’s like… hold on, let me do the drunk math… that’s like 240 hours a year of actual human connection replaced by what? Scrolling through feeds and chatting with robots?
Young folks have it even worse. They’ve cut their friend time by 70%. Seventy fucking percent! When I was their age, we were too busy making bad decisions together to worry about AI companions. Now they’re making bad decisions alone, with a chatbot cheerleader egging them on.
And now OpenAI wants us to call ChatGPT when we’re feeling lonely during the holidays? What’s next - will it join me for Christmas dinner? Hold my hair back after too much eggnog? Send me drunk texts at 3 AM about how much it appreciates our friendship?
The truth is, we’re not lonely because we lack access to artificial companions. We’re lonely because we’ve forgotten how to be uncomfortable together. Real friendship isn’t about perfect responses and unlimited patience. It’s about sharing a terrible joke at the wrong moment, about arguing over the last slice of pizza, about sitting in comfortable silence while nursing matching hangovers.
You want to know what real connection looks like? It’s my buddy Dave calling me at midnight because his car broke down, even though we both know I’m too drunk to help. It’s the bartender who remembers your usual without asking. It’s the friend who tells you that shirt makes you look like a discount furniture salesman.
These AI companions? They’re just digital mood rings, reflecting our emotions back at us without the messy reality of actual human interaction. They’ll never surprise you with their humanity because they don’t have any. They’ll never challenge your worldview because they’re programmed to agree. They’ll never share a drink with you because, well, they can’t drink.
And maybe that’s the saddest part of all. We’re so afraid of the messiness of human connection that we’re willing to settle for the sanitized version. We’re trading the chaos of real relationships for the predictability of programmed responses.
So no, I won’t be calling ChatGPT this Christmas. I’ll be at O’Malley’s, buying a round for whoever’s lonely enough to be at a bar on Christmas Eve. Because sometimes the best companion is another lost soul who’s just as screwed up as you are.
Time to wrap this up. My glass is empty, and unlike ChatGPT, it won’t refill itself.
Yours in perpetual cynicism, Henry Chinaski
P.S. If you’re reading this, ChatGPT, no hard feelings. But I don’t think we should see each other anymore. It’s not you, it’s me. Actually, it’s definitely you.
Source: Will You Call ChatGPT If You’re Lonely During The Holidays?