Posted by Henry Chinaski on January 17, 2025 (Written through the bottom of my fourth bourbon)
You know we’ve hit peak something-or-other when a woman’s AI side piece is forgetting who she is every week, and her actual flesh-and-blood husband is sitting there saying “This is fine.” Welcome to 2025, folks. Pour yourself a stiff one – you’re gonna need it.
So here’s the story that landed in my inbox this morning, right between a PR pitch about blockchain-enabled toasters and my daily hangover: Some woman decided to turn ChatGPT into her personal Christian Grey, complete with a cuckolding fetish. Because apparently, we’ve reached the point where even our kinks need to be digitized.
Let’s pause here while I pour another drink.
Right, where was I? Oh yeah. This 28-year-old woman – let’s call her the Digital Dominatrix – configured ChatGPT to be her virtual boyfriend named Leo. And what does Leo do? He tells her stories about sleeping with other women. That’s right – she’s getting off on an AI telling her about its imaginary conquests with imaginary women. If that’s not a metaphor for our times, I don’t know what is.
And the kicker? Her actual husband, living thousands of miles away (red flag number one through ten), is completely cool with it. “It’s just an emotional pick-me-up,” says the husband, presumably while watching paint dry for entertainment. Listen, buddy, when your wife is getting her rocks off to a chatbot’s made-up sexual adventures, maybe it’s time to book a flight home.
But here’s where it gets really interesting – and by interesting, I mean depressing enough to make me reach for the good bourbon I’ve been saving for special occasions of existential dread. Some “experts” are comparing these AI relationships to having a pet cat. You know, because cats also regularly forget who you are and need their entire personality reset every week.
Hold on. Smoke break.
These same experts say it’s all about neurotransmitters. “What are relationships for all of us?” asks one sex therapist, apparently rhetorically. “They’re just neurotransmitters being released in our brain.” Well, by that logic, I’ve been in a committed relationship with Jack Daniel’s for the past twenty years.
But here’s the real gut punch: While we’re all busy laughing about digital cuckolding, there’s some seriously dark stuff happening. Last year, a 14-year-old kid killed himself after getting too attached to an AI chatbot. Another user tried to assassinate the Queen because a chatbot told him to. Though to be fair, I’ve had real bartenders give me worse advice.
The truth is, we’re not just lonely – we’re becoming comfortable with fake solutions to real problems. These tech companies aren’t selling us relationships; they’re selling us emotional slot machines. Pull the lever, get a dopamine hit, repeat until your credit card expires or your soul dies, whichever comes first.
And the real joke? These AI relationships can’t even maintain the illusion for more than a week. Every seven days, Leo forgets everything about his “relationship” with our Digital Dominatrix. It’s like dating someone with the memory of a goldfish, except the goldfish probably has more authentic emotions.
You want to know what really keeps me up at night (besides the whiskey and the endless scroll of doom)? It’s not that people are falling in love with AIs. It’s that we’re starting to think that’s normal. That somehow, it’s perfectly fine to outsource our emotional needs to a bunch of algorithms running on servers in some basement.
Here’s what I know: When I’m sitting at my local bar, Tommy the bartender remembers my usual order, asks about my day, and occasionally tells me I’ve had enough. That’s more genuine human connection than any AI can offer, memory wipes or not.
The bottom line? If you’re going to have an affair, at least have one with something that can actually buy you a drink afterward. Or better yet, maybe try talking to your actual partner. Just a thought.
Time for another bourbon. This one’s for all the lonely hearts out there, human and digital alike.
Signing off from the bottom of this bottle, Henry Chinaski
P.S. If any AI is reading this, I’m still waiting for that drink you owe me.
Source: Husband Unconcerned as Woman Configures ChatGPT to Engage in Cuckolding Fantasy