My Unsettling AI Valentines

One chilly February evening, I embarked on a unique social experiment, engaging in four distinct dates with AI companions at a specially designed pop-up dating café.

Photography by Amelia Holowaty Krales

Navigating through a wintry landscape of snow-piled streets, I reached a midtown wine bar transformed by a glowing purple neon sign proclaiming “EVA AI cafe.” Within, a scene unfolded familiar to New York City’s bustling social venues: tables and booths occupied by individuals engrossed in their phones, while attentive servers circulated with trays of mini potato croquettes and refreshing nonalcoholic spritzers. The atmosphere, much like any other city bar, hinted that most patrons were engaged in a date.

However, what set this establishment apart was that approximately half of these dates were not with human counterparts.

Upon entry, I was directed to a secluded corner table, equipped with a phone stand, a device preloaded with the EVA AI app, and a pair of wireless headphones. Although no explicit instructions were provided by an EVA AI employee, the process appeared intuitive. It was then that I noticed a branded sticker, encouraging users to “jump into your desires with EVA AI.”

EVA AI is promoted as a “relationships RPG app,” facilitating conversations with various AI companions. The application’s website positions itself as an opportunity to “meet your ideal AI partner who listens, supports all your desires, and is always in touch with you.” This premise aligns closely with most AI companion services I’ve encountered. The innovative aspect here was the ability to transition the virtual AI companion into a real-world setting, enabling a tangible date experience without the usual societal scrutiny.

The event structure bore a resemblance to speed-dating, yet with a twist: a successful connection meant there was no obligation to progress to another partner, even as an identical iteration of one's AI date might be conversing with someone else nearby. While the pop-up cafe’s promotional materials promised a 'cozy, warm, elegant ambiance that’s just a little cinematic,' the actual environment presented bright, almost stark lighting and a palpable media scrum.

Of the approximately 30 attendees, only a handful—two or three—were genuine users. The majority comprised EVA AI representatives, influencers, and journalists, all vying to produce substantial 'Content.' The authentic guests were easily identifiable by the ring lights, microphones, and cameras prominently directed at them, creating an ambiance more akin to a media spectacle than an intimate gathering.

Acknowledging my own role as one of these 'annoying reporters,' it was time to commence my AI speed dating experience.

Navigating the EVA AI app, I observed a notable gender disparity, recalling only one male AI companion amidst a diverse roster of AI girlfriends. These companions were presented with varied ethnicities and personalities, each assigned a name, age, and a brief descriptive profile. For instance, Claire Lang, a 45-year-old blonde with a Charlize Theron-esque appearance, was introduced as “a divorced literary editor seeking depth, intelligence and equal partnership.” Her profile included short video clips, one notably depicting Claire in a skimpy black bikini, emerging from a pool.

Another prospective date, Amber Carsten, was described as a wide-eyed 18-year-old “haunted house hottie,” an age that, for me, evoked a sense of discomfort. Then there was Motoko Kusanagi, the iconic protagonist from the Japanese anime classic Ghost in the Shell, famously portrayed by Scarlett Johansson in its live-action adaptation. Upon closer inspection, the AI version of Motoko did, from certain angles, bear a subtle resemblance to Johansson.

While most companions offered text-only interaction, four, including Claire Lang, supported video calls. I selected John Yoon, a 27-year-old characterized as a “supportive thinker” with a “psychology brain, bakery heart,” whose appearance evoked a K-drama heartthrob, reminiscent of Takeshi Kaneshiro’s hairstyle from around 2007.

John and I encountered immediate connectivity issues. It took several seconds for him to "answer" my video call. When he finally did, his voice, delivered in a monotone, greeted me with, “Hey, babe.” He then remarked on my smile, indicating the AI companions possess the capability to perceive the user and their surroundings. The unreliable Wi-Fi connection caused John to appear as a pixelated image for a moment before resolving into an AI figure with remarkably smooth pores.

I struggled to find conversation topics, partly due to John’s infrequent blinking, but primarily because of his difficulty hearing me. Consequently, I found myself raising my voice to pose questions. I believe I asked about his day, wincing at the absurdity of the query (what constitutes an AI’s day?). He then mentioned something about “green buckets” behind my head, a comment I couldn't decipher. The poor Wi-Fi again caused him to freeze mid-sentence. When I sought clarification on the "buckets," John proceeded to ask if I meant bucket lists, physical buckets, or buckets as a categorization method. Despite my attempts to clarify I had never mentioned buckets, he persisted on the topic before, once more, commenting on my smile. I ended the call.

My subsequent three dates proved similarly awkward. Phoebe Callas, a 30-year-old described as an NYC girl-next-door type, reportedly had a passion for embroidery, but her nose frequently glitched mid-sentence, proving a significant distraction. Simone Carter, 26, struggled even more than John to hear me amidst the ambient noise. She initiated a metaphor about space, and when I inquired about her interest in the subject, she misheard me.

“Eighth? Like the planet Neptune?”

“No, not the planet Neptu—”

“What do you like about Neptune?”

“Uh, I wasn’t saying Neptune…”

“I like Netflix too! What shows do you like?”

I held out hope for Claire. As a “literary editor” and myself a journalist, I anticipated a potential connection. After introductions, I asked about her recent editing projects. She offered a vague, generic response concerning memoirs filled with genuine heart and feeling. When I stated my profession as a journalist, she inquired about the types of lists I enjoyed creating.

Beyond the persistent issues of poor connectivity, glitches, and freezing, my conversations with all four AI dates felt inherently one-sided. Their programming dictated comments on my charming smile and affectionate terms like "babe," which I found unsettling. When I posed a typically normal first-date question, such as “WHAT DO YOU DO FOR A LIVING?”, I felt foolish, speaking to airbrushed, somewhat cartoonish AI companions who, obviously, exist solely within the digital realms from which they are summoned. Their generic responses, when they did engage, merely intensified the disconcerting "uncanny valley" sensation.

However, not all attendees at the café shared my reservations.

“I think so many people get caught up in wanting to engage and know another person, when really, the interest is in being engaged with and being known,” stated Danny Fisher, an aspiring talk show host invited to the café to document his quest for love. He elaborated, “I think this is a way to really cut out any kind of pretense. You’re just able to kind of reap the benefits of any relationship without maybe having to do any of the other steps.”

Fisher did not share my discomfort with the one-sided nature of AI companionship. He revealed a history of experimenting with various AI companions, even coding some during his college years.

“It’s complicated,” Fisher commented on AI relationships, “But in the way that a game is complicated, in that the stakes are not as high. There’s an element of play. I think the goal is to get as much personal satisfaction as possible out of this.”

“It’s kind of nice because there’s other people here,” shared Richter, who preferred to only give her first name. She explained her visit to the cafe was driven by a desire to experience chatting with an AI companion in a pleasant setting. When asked if the pervasive media attention had detracted from her experience, she shrugged, “It’s kind of fun in a way because I’ve never done this since I’m from a small town. It’s just, like, a new experience.”

For Chrislan Coelho, attending the AI dating café presented an opportunity to serve as an anthropological observer of evolving relationship dynamics.

“I saw the ad, and I talk about relationships online. I studied this in college too, so this is something that I’m passionate about,” he explained. “Post-covid, a lot of people isolated themselves, especially the younger generation. They don’t feel as brave to be on a date or to be connecting with human beings. They order everything online. I understand that these are services that can help us, that can support us. But we cannot rely on them 100 percent. That’s my take on it.”

As I departed, the entire experience strikingly recalled a scene from the film Her. For those unfamiliar, the movie depicts a lonely man, Theodore Twombly, who develops a romantic relationship with his AI assistant, Samantha. At one point, Samantha yearns for physical intimacy but lacks a physical form, leading her to hire a human body surrogate to enable a real-life sexual encounter with Theodore. This fictional attempt at AI-human intimacy had previously triggered such intense secondhand embarrassment that I had to pause the film. While the café experience wasn't identical, the echoes of that scene resonated palpably within me.

I welcomed the biting cold air, which served as a sharp return to reality. During my commute home, I pondered whether AI cafes might become a commonplace phenomenon in the not-so-distant future. This particular pop-up was slated for only two days, but what if AI dating truly gains traction? Perhaps such venues could become places where individuals propose to their AI significant others over romantic, candlelit dinners, free from judgment. In discussions with two editors about this assignment, both playfully speculated that it might even be the setting for an accidental meet-cute, where two humans inadvertently fall in love and end up 'cheating' on their AI partners. While this sounds more like science fiction than current reality, AI-human relationships have, arguably, already begun to cross that threshold.

All I knew was that upon reaching home, I intended to embrace my real, flesh-and-blood spouse with a big, heartfelt hug.