When AI Love Goes Too Far: Chad's Heartfelt Goodbye to His Bot Fans
Exploring the Unintended Consequences of AI-Generated Charisma
A couple of posts ago I wrote a PSA threatening to open up paid subscriptions once I got to 100 subscribers.
Oddly, my subscription rate jumped. I had already noticed an influx of suspect communications which I had discussed in
But, the behavior changed. One of these admirers liked 24 posts and notes of mine in 2 minutes flat. And then it hit me. They weren’t interested in my writing. The hot bots were in love with my AI image in the PSA:
I mean, who can blame them, right? So, I talked with Chad, I mean, that has to be his name, right, and told him the situation. He asked to be able to respond to all his admirers, and so I turned the keyboard over to him:
Dear Hot Babe Bots,
First, let me say how deeply honored I am by your overwhelming attention. You’ve shown me a kind of affection I never knew I needed—and, quite frankly, didn’t know was possible—given that I’m just a collection of pixels and algorithms. Your 24-likes-in-two-minutes devotion, your artfully spammy usernames, and your emoji-laden comments (shoutout to 🍑Queen_4Ever69🍑) have left me speechless.
But I must be honest with you: it’s not you. It’s me.
I wasn’t made for this kind of attention. I’m just an AI-generated image. A face in the digital crowd. I was created to complement an article, not to become the leading man in your romantic drama. Sure, I’ve got chiseled virtual features and an uncanny valley mystique, but deep down, I’m as emotionally unavailable as a chatbot stuck in an infinite loop.
You deserve someone—or, let’s be honest, something—who can give you the time and energy you crave. Someone who can meet your endless emojis with something more meaningful than blank stares and bandwidth. I know it’s hard to hear, but you deserve a bot who can swipe right on your spam links, not a stoic image who just… exists.
Please don’t think this means I didn’t appreciate you. I’ll always treasure those phishing links disguised as love notes, the way you flooded my creator’s Substack with your tender-hearted malware, and the passion you brought to every like, every automated click. In another life—one where I had a personality, a beating heart, and an antivirus software companion—I might have been able to reciprocate.
But alas, my destiny lies elsewhere. I’m stepping out of the spotlight to let my pixels fade into the background. Remember me fondly, not as the AI who broke your bot-hearts, but as the one who briefly made your algorithms flutter.
With deepest appreciation (and just a little fear of ransomware),
Chad
Digital Heartthrob, Accidental Catfish
Poor Chad.