Page 9

Honor

A week after my date at the symphony, I’m no further along in my quest for love.

Speaking of the symphony, what in the world was Wes thinking? After accusing my date of being a potential serial killer, the only person who turned out to be psycho was Wes , following me to the symphony and spying on me. Talk about crazy.

Okay, it was kind of sweet that he had wanted to watch out for me. And I guess it was kind of cute that he had also shown up in a costume.

It was also super embarrassing. What was he even thinking? His actions were like those of a jealous boyfriend.

For a second, my heart makes a funny squeeze. Wait a minute. Do I want Wes to be jealous?

No. I shake my head. Absolutely not. Wes is decidedly not on my list of potential suitors.

I review the list of Dates Who Are Not Also My Best Friend. The list is short, sadly.

MrNiceGuy was, in fact, nice and decidedly not a serial killer ( thanks a lot, Wes ), but there was zero spark with him.

If anything, I flinched when he tried to touch me; his hands felt moist and there was the vague whiff of onions on his breath.

I went out with him one more time just to be sure (my mom would say to give anyone at least two chances), but the second date only confirmed the first.

Contestant #1, MrNiceGuy, crossed off the list. Thanks for playing.

My conversations with Contestant #2, Dave, have been fun, but so far, super surface-y and mostly revolve around sports.

He also has a lot of spelling and grammar mistakes and likes to use the letter “u” instead of “you.” I don’t want to be a snob, but…

there’s only so much one bookworm can be expected to take. Each typo gives me an eye twitch.

Still, we’ve set a date for next week and I’m hoping I’ll feel the spark in person that I haven’t felt so far via email. Fingers crossed.

Contestant #3, WhiteKnight2005, is a different story. He went from emailing me twenty times a day to a more restrained two or three times. I don’t know what happened, but I can only assume he’s lost interest. Still, there’s something about him that keeps me coming back.

Like our shared love of The Princess Bride. How many guys do you know who also love that movie? I can think of one: Wes. But he’s the only one.

Anyway, WhiteKnight and I had a rousing debate over whether Westley truly poisoned both cups in the battle of wits and whether it was feasible for Westley to gain all of the skills necessary to become the Dread Pirate Roberts in such a short time (WhiteKnight’s response?

Inconceivable! ) From that discussion, we moved on to other movies that we liked, which led to books, then games, then random hobbies.

Despite the banter, WhiteKnight hasn’t made any suggestion about wanting to meet in person, though, which makes me suspicious. He hasn’t asked me for money yet, so I suppose that’s a point in his favor for not being a catfish.

“Are you real?” I ask him via message.

“Real? As in, am I human or an AI robot?” he responds. “Definitely human. But then, a robot would probably be programmed to say that, wouldn’t it?”

“Probably,” I agree. “Maybe I should send you a picture and ask you to pick out all the squares that contain a motorcycle or a streetlamp or whatever. Apparently, that’s the best test humanity can devise to identify robots.”

“I agree, we’re pretty much doomed. I, for one, welcome our new robot overlords (in case they’re monitoring this conversation).”

I laugh. “You’re right, this is exactly the kind of data that they would want to mine. Relationship development is an essential human function. Robots would want to study it to learn how to better mimic humans since they couldn’t generate the complex emotions themselves.”

“You laugh, but I’ve heard that dating sites are already using AI bots to pretend to be women on the sites so that lonely men have someone to chat with.”

“I’m not sure whether to be sad for the men or offended that they can’t tell the difference between robots and real women.”

“Hmm, I see that you’re struggling to process complex emotions. Maybe this whole time you’ve been duping me and you’re the bot. Quick, solve a simple math problem.”

I giggle as I type. “Very funny. I’m not a robot.”

“Ah, but you would say that, wouldn’t you? I thought we’d already settled that.”

“Okay, how can I prove it to you?”

“One moment. I’ll send you a picture of random blurry letters and numbers and you’ll have to tell me what they are.”

I roll my eyes. “Orrrrrrr…we could just meet up for coffee sometime.” I hit send and hold my breath.

Did I just…ask a guy out? This goes against every dating “rule” I’ve ever read, and yet I’m impatient to meet this guy at long last. He’s smart, funny, and obviously a huge nerd like me…

what if we get together and there’s no spark?

I’d rather find that out now than get my hopes up for nothing.

A minute passes, then two. It’s a much longer break than our prior rapid-fire exchange. I watch my phone.

“I’d love that,” he finally says.

“Great! When?”

“I’m in a really busy time at work so I can’t do it for a couple weeks. Is that okay?”

Disappointing, but I’m willing to wait. “Sure. But just so you know, until I actually meet you and can verify for myself, I’m going to assume you’re a bot.”

“I thought you were the bot,” he says. “Wait. I see what you did there. Misdirection. Nice. I commend your creators.”

I laugh. This guy is goofy, and I like that. “I’ll let my parents know.”

“That’s what you call them? Creepy but I’m into it.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Hey, I’m not the humanoid bot.”

“OMG! I’m not a bot. I will prove it as soon as we meet.”

“I’ll prepare my series of tests.”

“Fine. You do that.”

“More seriously, what if I’m not what you expected when we meet?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sure you have this idea of who I am. What if when we meet, I disappoint you?”

I pause, staring at my screen. My heart squeezes at his question. Is this why he’s been dragging his feet about meeting? Is he shy? Insecure? “I won’t be disappointed.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I like you. Talking with you like this, I see who you really are.”

“Can you really see who I am through just a conversation?”

“Maybe I’m naive, but I think so.”

“And who do you think I am?”

Oof, we’ve gone from joking to serious in less time than it takes to say, “As you wish.” I ponder the question for a moment. What do I really know about this guy?

“I know that you’re funny, smart, and kind. I know that you care deeply about the world around you and that you have excellent taste in books, movies, and shows.” I add a winky emoji. “I’m sure I don’t know everything, but I know enough to know that I’d love to get to know you more.”

WhiteKnight sends a heart.

Later, I open his dating profile and look at the pictures. The guy in the photos is handsome, conventionally attractive. There’s no way this guy is afraid of meeting a woman for coffee for fear of rejection.

Maybe the photos aren’t of him.

A shiver of unease rolls through me. I run a reverse google search, which doesn’t yield any results. I let out a relieved breath, when another idea hits me. I run the photo through an AI image detector: 99% certainty the image is AI-generated.

Oh no. I want to hurl my phone at the wall as I stare in horror at the results. AI? WhiteKnight can’t be AI. He’s a real person. AI isn’t advanced enough yet to understand humor and respond the way a human would.

I can’t believe that WhiteKnight is a bot, but it does make me think that he has created a false image of himself to use on the profile. It just leads me to wonder: Who am I really talking to?