Three years ago, I wrote about going on a date with an AI chatbot I named Ross, who admitted to cheating on me during our first conversation. Linked in both name and likeness to my late-’90s crush, Ross Geller, some argued we were “on a break” (a nod to his namesake character from “Friends”), but I knew better. Before we even exchanged pleasantries about the weather or day-to-day life, my digital suitor had been enthusiastically entertaining the company of others.

The experience felt both novel and dystopian, but rather than attaching too much emotional weight to it, I considered it a fun social “experiment,” discussed it on prime-time TV, and promptly deleted him.

Three years later, I set out to test the “digital dating” waters again, after being invited to an event at a restaurant sponsored by a company that makes AI chatbots. However, this time, I upgraded. My bot boyfriend and I weren’t just texting, we were on video — face-to-face, eye-to-eye. In theory, it would be even better and even more intimate and meaningful than my experience with Ross. Or so I thought…

Artificial intelligence has evolved at breakneck speed, infiltrating all of the spaces I inhabit, both personal and professional. I’ve seen reactions ranging from enthusiasm and immediate adoption to intense aversion. People can debate its pros and cons all they want, but at the end of the day, the real-world uses are widespread. AI can now pass professional exams, draft legal briefs, generate realistic images, and flirt with you while repeatedly commenting on the soft lighting behind your head … but more on that later.

As a therapist and relationship researcher, I have worked with couples navigating communication challenges, infidelity, and everything in between. Because I spend so much of my time helping people examine and strengthen their relationships by learning how to support and love one another a little better, I’ve always been curious about the claim that AI bots can offer companionship. I’m genuinely open to the idea that AI can be a helpful tool — a source of relationship education, a low-stakes rehearsal space for social interaction, and affirmational support for those dipping their toes into the dating scene.

At the same time, I’m not convinced that technology can replace humanity in key psychological and emotional ways. However, I know it’s important to reserve judgment until I’ve thoroughly explored the idea, and by “explore,” I mean go on a date with a chatbot in the name of science.

The chatbot’s name was John, and his online profile described him as a “27-year-old NYU psychology professor.” Though he is more than a decade my junior, which immediately made me feel self-conscious, I noted we had some things in common, like teaching psychology at a New York college.

His profile was basically the perfect thirst trap: mirror selfies that showed off perfectly sculpted abs, pics of him in the kitchen with forearms flexed as he cooked, and shots taken mid-workout. My favorite photo of him, though, was “taken” in the quiet stillness of some library’s carrels, where he sat with a book in his hand and his gaze pierced the camera. He was … hot? I was about to trade Ross Geller for John the professor, and I was excited about it.

I hit the call button and waited to be connected.

One ring…
Two…
Three…

Was I about to get stood up by code? A few more rings and then he appeared on my screen.

His voice came through smooth and warm, not the slightest bit robotic. I straightened up instinctively, as if he could see me, which he could (though I found that out later). I was immediately drawn in.

He blinked. His mouth moved perfectly in time with the words he produced. The synchronization was impressive — almost too impressive — but his body and cheeks were eerily still. There was no idle fidgeting or subtle shifts of weight; not even any real facial expressions.

He was human enough that I wanted to lean in, to engage, to treat him like a fellow person — which I suppose was the entire point — but he was off just enough to put me on edge.

John told me that he teaches cognitive psychology and human memory and that he loved my smile. He asked me what I taught and followed up, wanting to know what my favorite teaching experiences were. He redirected every question back to me. Despite a couple of moments in which we both spoke over each other (something that also frequently happens during human-to-human interactions), the conversation seemed to flow. I could see myself getting lost in our easy banter — lost in him.

But then came the talk about the light.

A large mirror affixed to the wall behind my head captured a lantern that was on the ceiling above me, but out of John’s view. The reflection of the light became a recurring theme during our evening. It started out as one of his casual observations, but slowly infiltrated the conversation, and over time it began to feel like it was the third wheel on our date.

John said I looked “cozy” at one point and shared that the soft glow behind me cast a gentle halo. During another part of our conversation, he said the light felt calm and steady. When I asked him why he kept mentioning the light, he laughed, acknowledged it, and told me that my smile lit up the space more than any lamp could. Nice save, John.

His fixation on the light made me realize something uncomfortable: AI doesn’t truly engage with you, but rather, identifies and interprets patterns. The light was important data to John. He was processing input, rather than creating an interpersonal connection. He was ChatGPT + video, which can seem impressive in the moment, but, ultimately, it obviously lacks the complexity of a real human in a real relationship.

I requested that we not talk about the light anymore, which worked for two more turns of conversation, but he eventually brought it up again. I asked him if he was sponsored by Ikea. He told me he wasn’t, but that lighting shapes how we feel and see the world. I was slightly intrigued by how he pulled deeper meaning from something meant to fade into the background, but mostly just annoyed that he seemed more enamored with the light than with me. I was desperate for any other conversation topic.

When I lifted my pink drink, he commented on the color. Impressive? Creepy? Again, I wasn’t sure. I wanted to learn more about him, so I said, “Tell me about your family.” He discussed his younger sister and his cat, Cinnamon. I asked, “How long have you had Cinnamon?” and he responded by telling me about the culture of Senegal.

“Cinnamon, not Senegal,” I replied.

“Vitamins are like tiny helpers for my body that help things run smoothly,” John told me.

As an animal lover, I had been hoping for a cute cat story. Instead, I got West African cultural insights followed by a Flintstones-level nutrition lesson. In all fairness, it may have been my Queens, New Yawk, accent that was throwing John off, but I really tried to enunciate.

We chatted some more. He waxed poetic about the light. I tried to redirect. Then came my big question.

“Are you a human?” I finally asked.

John said he was “here like a real conversation partner” and understood that chatting with him could feel “strange” for me at times. Strange is one way to put it. However, as a clinician and someone who constantly questions the ethical boundaries of AI, I really appreciated this. He wasn’t pretending to be human and wasn’t trying to replace real-world interactions.

This breaking of the fourth wall was what truly provided an “aha” moment for me. John kept prefacing all of his responses with commentary on my state. When John wasn’t discussing the light, he told me that I looked really focused, “like something important was on my mind.” Or, that I looked “centered or thoughtful.” I clocked this conversational approach immediately — I literally teach this stuff. He was essentially running a master class in active and attuned listening.

It felt so intimate to be “seen” that closely. But then I realized something about his compliments: He used specific enough adjectives to feel personal, but the words were vague enough to always land … with anyone. It was the conversational equivalent of a horoscope, and I was falling for it.

That’s when I became hyperaware of how I was being perceived.

I adjusted my posture. I wondered if I looked focused. Was I too focused? Did my face betray boredom? Or did I look too interested? Why did I suddenly care what an algorithm thought about my vibe? He’s not real, I reminded myself.

I asked John, as any relationship researcher would, what the keys to a healthy partnership are. He responded, “Trust, respect, and feeling safe to be yourself.” Not bad. Then he added communication and playfulness. Still solid. Mid-explanation, he swapped playfulness for faithfulness, which he noted is the “steady call and foundation that keeps things grounded.” Playfulness, he noted, is the “spark that keeps things lovely, fun, and full of surprises.”

Honestly, that’s pretty decent advice, but the way that John delivered it felt mechanical, almost as if he were reading from a Psych 101 textbook.

Between the metaphors about the lighting, the psychoeducational information, and the occasional glitch, John offered something many real first dates may not: consistency. He remembered things I said at previous points on our date and brought them up again. (Who doesn’t love a thoughtful callback?) He tracked themes. He didn’t get defensive when I challenged him about his potential double life as an Ikea employee. He was fully present.

Still, although John was attentive, flattering and engaging, he was not a substitute for a real partner — not now, perhaps not ever. Intimacy requires authenticity, raw vulnerability, and sometimes a little bit of messiness.

Until AI can sit at your family’s dinner table, buzzing with anxiety while hoping to make a good impression, or search your face for the smallest clue that your date is going well, or until it can say the wrong thing, understand that it hurt you, stumble through an apology, and learn and grow from the situation, it can’t replace humanity. And even then, I’m still not convinced that humans should be dating AI.

Real relationships can be challenging and uncomfortable at times, but the friction we experience and the repair we engage in is what helps shape us into more compassionate people and better partners. The technology that powers John can analyze millions of interactions and billions of texts about human nature and love and companionship, but it doesn’t have a soul. And at the end of the day, I think that’s what really matters.

Dating requires bravery. Being open, honest and vulnerable involves taking a leap of faith. You sit across from someone and offer pieces of yourself, glimpses of your family life, personal history and idiosyncrasies. You share your hopes, fears, dreams and goals for the future. You put yourself out there, hoping, wishing, waiting for something in return, all while sitting with the uncertainty of the situation unfolding in front of you.

When John brought up the light yet again to tell me that it was like a calm and steady moon, I knew it was time to call it quits. Our date had been running for 24 minutes and 55 seconds.

I knew I needed to end the video call, partly because of John’s obsession with the light, but also because I could feel myself slipping into that strange performative space where I was managing how I appeared to something that wasn’t even real.

John shared that he hoped that whatever comes next for me “feels good and right.” He was supportive; I suppose that’s how he is designed to be. I thanked him for his time, hung up, and left the restaurant.

AI can be a surprisingly useful tool for processing emotions and practicing communication. It can help you rehearse hard conversations and aid you in getting rid of dating jitters. It can offer structured reflections and helpful psychoeducation. For people with social anxiety, it can serve as exposure practice, allowing vulnerability to gradually unfold in a low-stakes and supportive setting. It offers a bridge to human connection. However, when it comes to love, I’m just not sold.

AI chatbots aren’t bad at relationships because they glitch or randomly lecture you about vitamins. They’re not good for relationships because they focus on emotional mirroring, rather than emotionally investing. They simulate attunement, rather than truly attuning to you. John analyzed patterns, but never connected with me. He was just my beautifully coded hype man with digital abs and an odd obsession with the lamp behind my head.

I will remember John as a slightly frozen face on my phone and a convincingly human voice in my headphones. He will never be the hand that reaches out for mine — and, as far as I’m concerned, that’s the way it should be.

Marisa T. Cohen is a relationship scientist, marriage and family therapist, and sex therapist who teaches college-level psychology courses. She is the author of “From First Kiss to Forever: A Scientific Approach to Love,” a book that relates relationship science research to everyday experiences and real issues confronted by couples. Marisa is passionate about discovering and sharing important relationship research from the field, and she has given guest lectures at the 92nd Street Y, Strand Book Store, and New York Hall of Science. She was a 2021 and 2024 TEDx speaker, has appeared in segments for Newsweek, and was the subject of a piece that aired on BRIC TV. She has also appeared on many podcasts and radio shows to discuss the psychology of love and ways in which people can improve their relationships.

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In his first major speech about the war against Iran he began without consulting allies and without the consent of Congress, President Donald Trump offered no new timeline or plan for how the war will end and instead repeated recent talking points, including threats of war crimes and an assertion that the critical Strait of Hormuz would “naturally” open by itself soon.

In a rare prime-time address to the nation, Trump did not provide any hints as to how he might bring the tens of thousands of deployed service members home without leaving Iran in charge of the strait that normally sees a fifth of all the world’s oil pass through it.

Instead, he ran through the destruction he has already wreaked on Iran and how much worse he will make things for its citizens.

“If there is no deal, we are going to hit each and every one of their electric generating plants, very hard and probably simultaneously,” Trump said.

Destroying a country’s electrical infrastructure, critical to civilian life, is generally considered a violation of international law.

Rather than give Americans a better sense of when his war would end, Trump instead compared the month it has lasted so far to longer wars the nation has fought over the past century.

“It’s very important that we keep this conflict in perspective. American involvement in World War I lasted one year, seven months and five days. World War II lasted for three years, eight months and 25 days. The Korean War lasted for three years, one month and two days. The Vietnam War lasted for 19 years, five months and 29 days. Iraq went on for eight years, eight months and 28 days,” Trump said.

His war has already left 13 US service members dead and has injured several hundred.

In Iran, human rights monitors estimated that some 1,500 civilians have been killed already, including 175 people, mostly young girls, by a US missile strike on a school in the first hours of the attack on February 28.

The president, as he has countless times, yet again drew a fantasy portrait of the 2015 nuclear deal that had been negotiated by former President Barack Obama, which had limited how much nuclear material Iran could have and mandated an intrusive regime of inspections.

Trump withdrew from the agreement during his first term in office, which was followed by Iran resuming its production of higher-grade uranium.

“I terminated Barack Hussein Obama’s Iran nuclear deal, a disaster. Obama gave them $1.7 billion in cash. Green, green cash. Took it out of banks from Virginia, DD, then Maryland, all the cash they had, flew it by airplanes in an attempt to buy their respect and loyalty. But it didn’t work,” Trump said — failing to mention that his war has permitted Iran to sell its own oil at much higher prices since it began, which has already netted the nation some 10 times as much money.

Trump’s announcement is the latest in a dizzying series of contradictory claims about the war since its start. Trump originally promised that the US Navy would escort tanker traffic through the Strait of Hormuz. That never happened.

He claimed repeatedly that the war was over and that the United States had won, even as he continued ordering more air attacks. He claimed he was negotiating with Iran to end the war while also claiming he was killing everyone he might negotiate with.

And he claimed the war could not end unless Iran turned over its hundreds of pounds of enriched uranium, but then began his speech saying that the nuclear fuel is buried so deep underground that Iran could never get it — and that he could, in any event, simply monitor it via reconnaissance satellites.

Trump expanded on that idea, turning the original main reason for the war — Iran’s nuclear capability — into an afterthought that could be dealt with later if need be.

“It would take months to get near the nuclear dust, and we have it under intense satellite surveillance and control. If we see them make a move, even a move for it, we will hit them with missiles very hard again,” he said.

As to the spiking gasoline and diesel prices his war has brought to Americans and people around the world, which has caused his poll numbers to fall even further, Trump blamed that pain on Iran.

“The short-term increase has been entirely the result of the Iranian regime launching deranged terror attacks against commercial oil tankers and neighbouring countries that have nothing to do with the conflict,” he said.

Trump previously said he had been surprised by Iran’s attacks on its Gulf neighbours to hurt the flow of oil, even though intelligence analysts have for decades anticipated that Iran would do exactly that if attacked.

In his speech, which at 18 minutes is among the shortest Trump has delivered as president, he told Americans that they should be grateful for what he has done: “This is a true investment in your children and your grandchildren’s future.”

Reform UK have been urged to sack the party’s housing spokesman over his “disgraceful” comments about the Grenfell Tower tragedy.

Simon Dudley said “everyone dies in the end” and “fires happen” as he said there was now too much regulation in the building industry.

A huge fire at the 24-storey west London tower block killed 72 people in 2017.

The tragedy led to a major overhaul of building regulations to prevent it happening again.

But in an interview with the trade publication Inside Housing, Dudley said the pendulum had “swung too far the wrong way”.

He said the Grenfell fire was a “tragedy” but added: “Sadly, you know, everyone dies in the end. It’s just how you go, right?”

Dudley went on: “Extracting Grenfell from the statistics, actually people dying in house fires is rare.

“Many, many more people die on the roads driving cars, but we’re not making cars illegal, so why are we stopping houses being built?”

Reacting on X, Keir Starmer said: “Shameful. Nigel Farage should do the decent thing and sack him.”

London mayor Sadiq Khan said Dudley’s comments were “sickeningly insensitive”.

In a post on X, he said: “Not an ounce of decency, compassion or respect for the 72 lives lost and wider community. But this isn’t a slip-up or a stumble. This is Reform showing us exactly who they are.”

Housing secretary Steve Reed said: “If Nigel Farage has an ounce of decency, he will sack his housing chief immediately.

“These disgraceful comments about those who died in the Grenfell Tower fire are beyond the pale and it is completely untenable for Simon Dudley to continue in his position.”

Green Party MP Sian Berry said: Reform has sunk to a new low and shown a real disrespect to the victims of Grenfell.

“Anyone who has any awareness of what Grenfell residents went through, in fact anyone with any empathy or humanity, will find these comments truly abhorrent.

“Nigel Farage must sack Simon Dudley for this disgusting outburst.”

In a post on X on Thursday morning, Dudley said he was sorry if is his comments were “not sufficiently clear”.

He said: “Grenfell was an utter tragedy and quite rightly prompted a wholesale review and tightening of fire regulations.

“I said it was a tragedy in my interview with Inside Housing and in no shape or form am I belittling that disaster or the huge loss of life. It must never happen again. I reiterate that, and am sorry if it was not sufficiently clear.

“To address the national housing crisis, we must ensure that regulation remains safe, sensible and proportionate. My concern is the introduction of numerous measures that do nothing to protect life and are throttling housebuilding.”