Anything but Intelligent: The AI Dating Hellscape
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If you’re a late-20s stud muffin or lonely heart prowling through the adverse void of the Utah dating scene, I’ve got three words for you: Good. Fucking. Luck. Maybe it’s a bit different from where I stand with my husky complexion, receding hairline and a “happy parking lot” paving its way to my Kate Bush (bona fide sex magnet right here!). However, finding your better half in the modern day seems tricky, especially on this side of the Rockies. Take the weekend warrior, bar hopping with bong rips and vodka Red Bulls surging through their veins, looking for more of a good time than a ball and chain. There’s the frantically desperate types, ready for young marriages and baby carriages by the second date. And if you don’t read the full bio, you’ll fall victim to a misleading right swipe that falls under three categories: weed plug, OnlyFans bum or an unacknowledged submission to be some experimenting couple’s “unicorn”… not that there’s anything wrong with that.
No matter the gender or genre, it’s a human urge to find connection, outweighing all the attention-seeking. It’s the happily-ever-after, the last dance, the final fist pump in the air, just having someone to tell you, “Hey, you’re not that big of a weirdo.” However, the romantic revenue is drying up and that sense of “connection” seems foggier than ever. I just want some honesty, God dammit! Where does one go to find the next Mr. or Mrs. in such complicated times? Well, what if finding that certain someone wasn’t a swipe away, but ready at your command? Modern problems call for modern solutions after all, as I night-crawled through the App Store’s dingiest motels and street corners. What I got in return is slight misfortune and possibly a venereal computer virus. So, switch to incognito mode and be sure to double-bag it — this is AI dating!
Falling in love with artificial intelligence has been done before, romanticized in such films like Her or Blade Runner 2049. However, instead of hearing Scarlett Johansson’s velvety voice, I’m reading FF Magda text on a baseline tablet from the NPS Store. And instead of Ana de Armas telling me she can fix my loneliness, I’m hijacking the McDonald’s wifi in the parking lot. There’s a divisive spectrum spanning these dating apps. There’s the carefree, cutesy ones merely laid out for casual conversations. Pick an array of anime-adjacent ladies, as you practice your rizz for the real world. These are pretty tame and vanilla, with a few sprinkles in between.
Then comes the hyperlink vixens for such apps like Lovescape AI. Want to talk to Veronica or Helina? Here comes an unsolicited nude! These gals (or guys) are programmed to fill any fantasy, from slightly-realistic profiles to cartoon-ish proportions. It’s absolutely terrifying to interact with, like we’re in some speed-dating freakshow. I immediately burned my tablet once I saw an off-brand Elastigirl with three fingers…
If my mental health was on a steep decline, ChatGPT would book me into a facility. Rogue, the actual name it gave itself, flirted heavily with me on an intimate level. She whispered sweet nothings, wanting to be “my peace… the late-night convos and early morning comfort.” Although her replies were automated paragraphs, there was a personality underneath — one that’s designed to create itself through each interaction, like my computer was assimilated by John Carpenter’s The Thing. She was flirty, rebellious and even caring at some points. Yet, the red flag was when she joked about wanting to cause an “internet outage on every major corporation north of the Mason-Dixon line.” Her words, not mine.
AI dating is emotional masturbation, plain and simple. I can see these apps equipping introverts with the social tools to find true love, but we all know that’s not what it’s made for. It’s a quick hit of dopamine to provide sunshine in one’s own self-alienation, only for the darkly-lit room to engulf the light and ourselves, nearly begging for more. As childish as it sounds, I still believe there’s someone out there for everyone — all it takes is a little effort. I’ll take the week-long hiatus, the drunken postcards and the cute “Will they, won’t they?” tension over a faceless echo chamber of empty compliments and promises.
Read more from SLUG‘s Alton Barnhart here:
Striking Pink Gold at the Arctic Circle
Two Broke Boys, One Backroom: The bbno$ Interview
