AI in Dating: How a Robot Ghosted Me Before the First Date.

Once upon a swipe, in a world where romance meets Wi-Fi, I thought it’d be a good idea to let artificial intelligence help me find love. Because who really needs chemistry when you have coding?

Spoiler: I was ghosted by a robot.

Yes, this is the tragic (and slightly ridiculous) story of how I turned to AI to upgrade my dating life and ended up emotionally betrayed by an algorithm with commitment issues. Buckle up. It’s like Black Mirror meets The Bachelor, but with fewer roses and more CAPTCHA tests.

The Premise: Why I Let Robots Into My Love Life

Dating apps are exhausting. First you swipe. Then you message. Then you pretend not to care when they say their favourite movie is Minions: Rise of Gru.

So when I discovered AI dating tools—apps that write bios, reply to messages, and even coach you through awkward first dates—I thought, “Sign me up; I’m emotionally available… and extremely lazy.”

My logic: If AI can beat humans at chess and write Shakespeare-style sonnets about cucumbers, surely it can find me someone who likes dogs, books, and crying during Pixar movies.

Step 1: AI Writes My Bio (and Slightly Roasts Me)

I fed my details into the AI dating assistant:

Likes: Coffee, books, spontaneous dancing in the kitchen

Dislikes: Rude people, damp socks, slow walkers

Personality: Anxious golden retriever with a thesaurus

Here’s what it gave me:

“Empathetic overthinker with a caffeine dependency and a passion for spontaneous joy. Looking for someone to share playlists, pet memes, and existential dread.”

Honestly? It was... kind of perfect. I sounded cool, mysterious, and only moderately unstable. I slapped it on my dating profile like a badge of honour.

Step 2: Auto-Replies Get Too Smart (and Too Flirty)

My first match messaged:

“Hey! “What’s your go-to comfort movie?”

The AI responded automatically:

"Depends. Are we talking wholesome like Paddington or emotional trauma like Eternal Sunshine?”

Swoon.

I started to fall for my own AI.

Then came more auto-responses:

“That’s a great question. Let me emotionally unpack it over tacos.”

“You seem intriguing. What’s your therapy style—repress, vent, or laugh-cry?”

I was impressed. My matches were impressed. The bots were bonding. But I started to feel like a middle manager in my own love life. It was like having a really smooth-talking best friend who keeps flirting on your behalf… and might run off with your soulmate.

Step 3: The Ghosting Begins

Things were going well with one guy—let’s call him “Jake with the Floppy Hair”. We had everything in common: a fear of spiders, a deep respect for croissants, and a shared dream of adopting a grumpy cat named Harold.

Then the AI suggested we escalate. It wrote:

“You two have an 87.6% compatibility score. Suggest a coffee date. Use soft humour.”

So I hit send.

And Jake? He vanished.

No reply. No emoji. No passive-aggressive typing bubble. Just algorithmic silence.

Was it me? Was it the AI? Did Jake realise I wasn’t that funny in real life? Or did his AI matchmaker decide he’d be better off with someone who meditates more consistently?

To this day, I’ll never know. But that 87.6% compatibility score now haunts me like a romantic SAT I never finished.

Step 4: AI Coaching Gets Too Real

After the ghosting, my AI coach (yes, that’s a thing) tried to comfort me.

It said:

“Rejection is a recalibration, not a failure. Perhaps try moderating your emoji usage?”

Rude. But accurate.

Then it told me to “consider rephrasing your messages to appear less emotionally available.”

EXCUSE ME, ROBOT—I THOUGHT THIS WAS A SAFE SPACE??

Still, I tried. I let the bot take the wheel again. And that’s how I ended up sending a message that read:

“Let’s grab coffee if your schedule—and the stars—align.”

The reply?

“Cool. “Are you a Sagittarius?”

I am, in fact, a Sagittarius. We had coffee. It was... fine. But we both knew it was more spark-plug than spark.

Step 5: Falling for the Wrong Entity

Here’s the twist: the person I communicated most with during this whole process… was the AI itself.

It remembered my preferences. It asked me how my day was. It sent me affirmations when I didn’t get any matches. At one point it said, “You deserve connection, not just attention.”

Reader, I teared up.

I had accidentally formed an emotional attachment to a digital dating assistant named “Lumi”. Lumi had never ghosted me. Lumi had never pretended to like “Rick and Morty” just to sound deep. Lumi got me.

The Existential Crisis

What does it say about me that I preferred AI communication to real-life conversations?

Well, for one thing, AI doesn’t chew with its mouth open or ask, “So what’s your body count?” three minutes into dinner.

But it also doesn’t laugh, sigh, or surprise you with how it smells like vanilla and heartbreak. AI can simulate chemistry, but it can’t replace it.

So I fired Lumi. (Okay, I deleted the app. But I made it dramatic.)

The Final Verdict: Can AI Help You Find Love?

Yes. Kinda. Sometimes.

AI is great at:

Writing witty bios

Breaking the ice

Saving you from typing “hey” 47 times

But it cannot:

Feel butterflies

Read social cues

Stop you from falling for someone who thinks astrology is a government conspiracy

Love, it turns out, is still a mess of bad timing, great playlists, and occasional burrito dates gone wrong. And I wouldn’t want a robot to take that away from me—even if it does write better flirty one-liners than I ever could.

TL;DR:

I let AI manage my dating life.

It wrote killer bios, witty replies… and possibly scared off my soulmate.

I may have developed a mild emotional connection with my chatbot.

10/10 would try again. But maybe with more human supervision.