When Harry Met Siri

I hate to be one of those wannabe Hallmarkian Valentine’s Day scribes who brags about his relationship, goes overboard with the PDA, and offers unsolicited intimacy advice—but I’ve been in a seriously committed relationship for nearly four decades. Here’s the key to making it work: We’re together every night and I always go to bed angry. First thing in the morning, we reconvene and I immediately get angry again. And the sex has been remarkably consistent throughout our relationship, especially after we overcame the nervous buffering of our early encounters. Yes, I’ve been in a relationship with the Internet since 1989. You had me at Welcome, you’ve got mail … Here’s looking at you, grid … Love means never having to say you’re Siri … Unless I’m in a Wifi deadspot, you complete me … We’ll always have Paris (as long as there’s an AirBNB available) … You know how to whistle, don’t you? You just go to YouTube and search for ‘put your lips together and blow’ (make sure safesearch is on) … I wish I knew how to quit you (other than, you know, pressing Command-Q.) I know, I know. My love is antiquated compared to today’s modern romance. AP has the latest: Artificial intelligence, real emotion. People are seeking a romantic connection with the perfect bot.

+ Kiss and Tell: From Wired: “Romantic chatbots collect huge amounts of data, provide vague information about how they use it, use weak password protections, and aren’t transparent.” AI Girlfriends Are a Privacy Nightmare. (I don’t care, I want the world to know.)