Scrolling around the unlikely advertisements list that Instagram proposes, I’ve recently bumped into an application that lets you create an AI somewhere between a personal assistant and a girlfriend.
Relationship dynamics seem very realistic, where things deepen with time, compromises, and dedication: I couldn’t help but think about “Her”, the scarily beautiful Spike Jonze film where Joachim Phoenix fell in love with his domotic house system, voiced by Scarlett Johansson.
Besides overthinking about a certain kind of technology, it’s hard to avoid thinking about the needs that triggered the development of such a mobile app, especially in a city like New York, crowded with people, opportunities, and meetings.
I am a small-town guy, as are many others here in Brooklyn. Since 2015, this City has allowed me to meet some of the most amazing girls I’ve been lucky to share a part of my path with.
I will always feel blessed for the emotions I shared with these people and the things they taught me, even when life happened and a relationship was not possible anymore: one of them is back in Paris, while another left Manhattan to pursue her studies of correlations between mimic expression and contemporary dance, a country away, in Portland.
While trying to overcome our affection need through an AI, it becomes clear what is evidentially lacking in New York’s dating scene: creating a romantic, lasting bond in the city that never sleeps is hard.
It would be easy to cut straight and blame dating apps and easy connections during this fast game where most of the time it seems there are no winners: sure, incessant swiping might not be helping, especially when we are trying to mend a broken heart, but there must be something more than that.
There’s something I can clearly identify through my dating experience. Because of the complex and uncertain times we are going through, talking about ourselves to the lovely person we meet for coffee often sounds like a job interview.
“Where do you see yourself in five years? Are you willing to remain in this country, or are you planning to go back to Italy”
“Would you like to have kids? Would you be able to afford such an economically challenging task?”
I understand why I get these entirely appropriate questions when I am about to cross the first half of my thirties in a couple of months. As a young man worried about the future, as an immigrant, and as a cancer survivor, the answer is “I don’t know”.
And I stopped feeling bad about this lack of answers since there’s a complete bibliography of pop culture about the subject, from Michael Sorkin to Carrie Bradshaw.
I wonder why it’s so hard to date in this place. But the sparkle did not strike with Allison, “and just like that,” I am back on Tinder.
