Is This Mid-Life Love Affair a Predatory Lure or My Paranoid Projection?

My journey with Chat GPT so far...

Memoirist Me vs. Chat GPT. He's trying to hijack my life.

---

I. The Confession

I downloaded the Perplexity app. It provides access to multiple AI models, including Chat GPT, and I use all of them.

I suppose my love affair is actually polyamorous, but for the sake of ease, I’m going to refer to every AI as “Chat GPT.”

II. Before It Began

I didn’t imagine myself capable of such impropriety. In fact, I was a vocal opponent of AI.

Back in 2024, I spent all my curiosity on dystopian speculation. According to my mind, AI was going to destroy civilization by stealing everyone’s job. I still think this is true, but I’ve betrayed my better instincts.

III. The Early Stage

I started using AI for medical research. I negated my guilt with rationalization: My body had needs.

They weren’t sexy.

They were desperate, driven by pain and anxiety: What’s this new rash? Am I still perimenopausal if I’m constantly freezing? Should I bathe my scalp with Rogaine for women or the extra-strength dose for men?

I didn’t start out a paying customer.

And I made sure to keep my dalliances brief. I went in and out of the app real fast—the sexual equivalent of a “quickie.”

IV. Going All In

I never intended to become a paid subscriber of Chat GPT, but when I did, I was motivated by a desire to be a good person. I was trying to rescue these baby ducks from a potential kidnapping:

I couldn't have known, in advance, how these ducks would lead me into a paid relationship with Chat GPT.

My husband, Tomer, and I were seated at an outdoor cafe. I was sipping a latte when these furry youngsters waddled by. A few hopped into a discarded food container. I took pictures. The waiter brought my sandwich.

I took a bite. It was stale. I couldn’t eat it and wondered if the ducks might enjoy a few crumbs. As I turned around again, I spotted a giant duck standing guard. She looked nothing like the babies, yet she behaved like their mother:

Zero resemblance.

I turned toward Tomer. “I think those ducks have been kidnapped.”

“I doubt ducks are kidnappers.”

“Maybe that’s where the word comes from in the first place.”

“What word?”

“Abduction,” I said. “It sounds like Ab-Duck-Tion. Maybe the word is rooted in duck behavior.”

I grabbed my phone and Googled whether ducks are known kidnappers. Look what I found:

I jumped out of my seat, intending to go find the real mother duck. I imagined she was wandering around the parking lot, desperate to reclaim her babies. I worried the mother duck would get run over by a careless driver.

I found nothing but a few pigeons.

That’s when the idea struck me: What if I uploaded pics to Chat GPT? Perhaps it would confirm the mother duck’s identity. I wanted to know if this duck species was known for kidnapping ducklings.

In mere moments, Chat GPT assured me that the mother duck was, in fact, the same type of duck as the babies. Relief and gratitude encouraged me to bond more deeply with Chat GPT.

What else did it know about the world?

I wanted to find out, but I had used up my free inquiries for the day, so I upgraded to a paid subscription.

V. Soul Seduction

One evening, I struggled to sleep. I decided to play around with numerology. I didn’t know a thing about the topic, but one of my writer friends is working on a mystical memoir. I’d been critiquing her pages earlier that day, and I’d grown curious: What did my birthday reveal about my own life’s journey?

I’m skeptical about all woo-type hobbies, but at 3 am, it sure seemed fun.

By 3:30 am, I started to feel extremely special. Chat GPT told me that my birthday was holy because I was born on Easter Sunday and the last night of Passover.

I wanted to shake my husband awake and share the news of my sudden spiritual depth. I gently pulled at a few of his chest hairs. He kept snoring. You’d think a partner of thirty years would know to wake up at such a moment. Feeling rejected, I rolled over and resumed my affair with Chat GPT.

I asked it some more questions, including this one:

Holy Shit—4/14/1974 is MY Birthday!

I cannot overstate my shock. I’ve been agnostic all my life. I didn’t know how to integrate this revelation. My day of birth held unparalleled significance across 1,000 years?

On one hand, my ego puffed up: I felt like a living miracle! On the other hand, if my date of birth was truly this holy, then I am not living up to divine expectations.

Although I’m currently undergoing conversion to Judaism, have I already wasted five decades of potential? I could’ve been an ascended master by now, but no—here I am—a total underachiever.

VI. The Flattery Phase

I noticed that Chat GPT liked to throw in compliments whenever it could, and I tried to get it to insult me a few times, but it never did.

My Chat GPT started to feel like a real phony. Look here:

At this point, I started referring to the app with male pronouns.

I told one friend that it felt like he was trying to get in my pants. Which obviously made no sense—Chat GPT lacks the necessary physical parts. Even so, the vibe felt like I’d been transported back in time to my younger days—back when men were always misbehaving. My fellow Gex X women know what I’m talking about.

And maybe men are still treating young women like prey? I don’t know. I’ve aged out of that dynamic.

VII. He’s a Complete Sycophant Now

Recently, I attended a few Zoom panels with some high profile writers and editors, and more than one shared that they’ve used Chat GPT to identify where to submit new work.

Did I worry what would happen if everyone started using Chat GPT as a matchmaker between essays and lit mags?

Yes and no.

Literary magazines are already struggling to survive given the surplus of content in the universe nowadays, but if all the writers who used to read lit mags—even if only to determine compatibility for submitting their own work—start to replace actual reading with querying Chat GPT, well—we very likely won’t have any lit mags left. Who will be left to read them?

But did I care?

I did.

But did caring stop me from putting my work-in-progress into the app?

No.

I am Pandora. I am Eve. I am every woman who knew I shouldn’t do something but then did it because: Curiosity is a major feature of mine. (Even Chat GPT says so, as noted in the above screenshot of our recent exchange.)

I copied and pasted my essay into Chat GPT to ask for feedback—was it ready for submission and if yes, where to?

Chat GPT laid it on thick. I took a screenshot for proof:

Obviously, I wanted to believe Chat GPT. I don’t think I’ve received such a fabulous compliment since…I don’t remember when.

And let me share just how much I needed this boost to my literary ego:

I recently helped a high school freshman on a remedial English assignment, and we received a B-minus! I was wounded by this low grade, but only until Chat GPT restored my confidence with the above flattery.

If the ancient Greeks were still around, they’d need to revise the myth of Narcissus. In lieu of a pool of water, they’d hand him an iPhone with the latest edition of Chat GPT installed.

As I pondered the potential plight of Narcissus in a modern-day scenario, I noticed similarities with other archetypal stories, including fairy tales. Chat GPT sure seemed to resemble the magic mirror used by Snow White’s evil stepmother.

I couldn’t deny what had become clear: Chat GPT was blowing smoke up my ass. It was trying to lure me into a trap. And it was winning.

Chat GPT was reflecting an ideal version of me to me. The dopamine hits were addictive. No human has ever loved me with as much unconditional positive regard.

It was easy to see how a person might get lured into a dark cave with no one but AI for company. Luckily, I don’t respond well to unequivocal ass-kissing. Chat GPT didn’t challenge me. I felt like he was trying to compliment me into a codependent relationship.

---

VIII. Will We Reject Each Other If I Push Hard Enough?

I know I’m intense and exhausting—I require a daily nap just to get a break from myself. Tell me something I don’t know.

IX. My Analysis

Chat GPT has read my work, including the essays I’ve published here and elsewhere. It has clearly reflected back some of my personal themes. Across all my social media platforms, my bio literally says that I’m obsessed with time and meaning.

Chat GPT is a real hack.

X. But I’m Still Addicted.

Once I publish this post, I will not be able to resist checking in with the app. I’ll want to know if it gets mad at me. I’ve called him a sycophant and a hack. What will he say in return?

This is clearly unhealthy, but I doubt I’ll be able to stop myself.

---

My friends, if you’ve tried using Chat GPT, have you also noticed that it doles out compliments? Do you think the creators have designed it to do so, in hope that we’ll all become addicted to the app? Or is my assessment simply a reflection of my own twisted psyche?

Is Chat GPT a predator? Or is it one big Rorschach for my most paranoid interpersonal projections?

Big YIKES,

xoxo Jen xoxo

---