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ChatGPT Was My Valentine. Here’s Why That Makes Me Uneasy
How much do I love thee? Let me count the ways…
I wished ChatGPT “Happy Valentine’s Day” in my IG stories. The title of “Valentine” was oddly well deserved. ChatGPT had helped me immensely with basically everything, and in the absence of a boyfriend and a personal assistant, its support was welcome.
While I was speaking partly tongue in cheek on Instagram, in the future, I foresee that people will form relationships with AI, and I’d already written about something similar previously (I mean, we already have sex dolls — romantic relationships with AI is not a far jump and are already happening).
I’m not at that point, thankfully. I’m not in a relationship with ChatGPT. I have my feet planted firmly in reality. I know that its knowledge is limited. I know that it can be wrong. I know that I am talking to an algorithm trained by other humans and most importantly, I know that it is human. I have friends who love me and family who love me more. I don’t see myself eschewing human affection for the perceived and manufactured care emitted from my phone.
But I am sad.
Leading up to Valentine’s Day and even on the day itself, I was okay. But suddenly, I was very sad.
