Not long after my last breakup, at lunch with friends, talk turned to my love life. One pal suggested I try “dating an American.” (My ex is English.) Another retorted, “or maybe a European.” We laughed. Conversation shifted. Later, as I waited for the subway, an ad for a European dating site appeared in my Instagram feed. I had, I think, the reaction typical of these digital times: a frisson of disquiet—they’re listening— followed by a shrug of bemused resignation. What can you do? My train arrived; I got on with my day.
The ad began to follow me around. The more it appeared, the more it struck me as fishy—too soft-focus; too sincere. What was the scam? One night, curiosity got the better of me: I entered some basic information—email address, city of residence—and found myself roaming a landscape of implausibly handsome men, all looking for “the one.” The next morning, I awoke to 200 emails, with subject headings like Are you my queen? Do you believe in true love? Bots, I assumed. Bots composing lengthy missives making the case that a wise universe had brought us—him, the software; me, the user with no photo or bio—together at last.
Reading these strange emails became a kind of hobby. Each had a slightly different angle of attack. I felt like I was peering into the mind of a computer as it iterated ideas of human romance. Then a message brought me up short: One “man,” supplying background, mentioned he had a daughter with Down syndrome, to whom he was devoted—and who was part of the love package, as it were. My certainty crumbled. What kind of bot writes something like that?
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der September 2023-Ausgabe von Vogue US.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der September 2023-Ausgabe von Vogue US.
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