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No one wants to be married to a Luddite, but an AI chatbot becoming the ‘third person’ in our relationship is grating my nerves
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Bizarrely, it began with Sunday lunch. “Why don’t we ask ChatGPT how to cook the perfect Yorkshire pudding?” my wife suggested, innocently. I’ll admit, I was slightly irked that she thought AI could produce a better Yorkie than me, but I knew she’d been itching to deploy the chatbot in our everyday lives, so I was happy to see if it could deliver puds that rose well, were crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside.
Turns out, it could, and I was happy to admit that our first outing with the technology had been a success, declare myself AI-friendly, and leave it at that.
However, my wife seemed to think that because ChatGPT could help elevate our Sunday lunch, it should also have the final say on a host of other things in our lives.
So, I was sceptical when she asked, “What to buy my daughter for her 14th birthday? She’s into clothes and music.” I was also slightly annoyed that AI was being trusted with something so personal, and my suggestions were being disregarded. However, once again, ChatGPT came up trumps with beauty products and fashion labels that were way more Gen Alpha-appropriate than my uncool ideas.
Then, I came home one day to find her checking the tyres on the car with a 20p piece. Enquiring what she was up to, she told me she’d been worried about whether the treads were legal, and the app had told her a nifty trick, using the outer rim of the coin as a measure of whether the tyres were safe. I was pretty impressed with the hack, but not so much with my wife’s quip about how her new AI assistant, which she had begun calling Melissa, had given her all the info she needed, minus the mansplaining.
The personalisation of the app didn’t stop with a name either, as it was now mimicking my wife’s Irish accent in its voice replies. Quite frankly, Melissa was starting to get on my nerves.
Over the coming weeks, the kids and I could hear my wife in conversation with her new bestie, as she turned to it for all manner of life advice, where usually she would have asked my daughters or me. She asked for fashion advice to create outfits for her upcoming work week, and our fridge was now stocked according to the meal plan Melissa had devised.
Then, I noticed a disturbing shift in how my wife was using the app, as the questions began to get less practical and more personal.
One morning, after waking up, she reached for her phone, except, rather than opening up Instagram, she opened ChatGPT and asked it to analyse her dream in which she’d been in the driving seat of a car that was out of control. Melissa told her that it probably meant she was losing her way in life and needed to find some new challenges. I chimed in that maybe the dream was related to the fact that Melissa had made up the 20p safe-tyre check and was, in fact, trying to kill her.
This not very veiled attack on my wife’s AI lackey didn’t land well, and I began to get the distinct feeling that if she had to save Melissa or me from the wreckage of a car crash, I would be the one in trouble.
Now, I can’t help but think that the next thing to get the Melissa treatment will be our marriage, and my wife’s unwavering faith in her is causing me sleepless nights.
After all, it’s one thing to ask ChatGPT, “How do I stop my husband snoring?” Another, to ask, “Would I be happier with the Amazon guy?”
It’s so easy to “Ask anything”, and even easier to believe whatever comes back as gospel, which is why I’m hoping my wife experiences a few “hallucinations” or wrong answers to break her faith in Melissa’s wisdom, before she gets around to stress testing our relationship.
As far as I’m aware, we aren’t having any difficulties, but then I didn’t think there was anything wrong with my Yorkshire puddings either…
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