My worst nightmare would be to date someone who isn’t who they say they are. Unfortunately, in this world of technology, I experienced my own conundrum when my cousin, Rita, suggested a dating application called Horseshoe. I was hesitant about possibly being taken in by an AI-created suitor, but some digital defenses from eMazzanti had my back. Here’s the 411. At first, I resist going on an online dating app. “I’m 39, My time has passed,” I protest. But Rita counters with an observation: “The time is ‘now,’ child!”
So, I write up a profile.
The Pinging of First Messages
“I can’t say enough about how wonderful they seem,” Rita admits, brooding over the loads of eligible suitors. She winks, reading out loud: “Garfield, Dale, Clifford—OUCH!” She screams.
“Let me see,” I demanded, sliding the laptop away from her. “And they were sent to me, not you.”
“I like Dale,” I add.
Why?” Rita whines.
“Because…he’s not trying too hard. He’s himself. And with his shirt on.”
Dale McCaffrey,” I read off his name. In the background I hear Rita saying something about going on vacation for two weeks. I barely hear her shut the door to my apartment.
2 Weeks Later
“Honey, I’m home!” Rita says, entering my apartment. “Did yah miss me? And, look at youuuuu! You never looked better.”
“I feel good,” I exclaim. “I’m in Love!”
Rita bucks her eyebrows. “And I have created a monster. So you’re in love? How do you know?”
“Because when yah know, yah know,” I say.
“As your life coach, I need to read your messages. I am super interested in how things led up to this, so fast,” says Rita. “While I was on vacation, I took an eMazzanti Technologies Copilot Master Class. There was a Techno Con conference in our hotel. Did you know that you can literally run your company on AI, and nobody would ever know it? Why not a man you just met?”
She starts flipping through the messages on my laptop. “I don’t know. He sounds too formal.”
“He sounds like a gentleman,” I counter.
“My Spidey sensors are tingling,” Rita looks up. “Peggy, I am getting a little giddy just reading these, so let me stop. But listen. During a Q&A, one of the attendees at the eMazzanti class mentioned that he used AI to snag the woman of his dreams.”
”Yeah, well, she’s an idiot if she didn’t see right through it,” I reply. “AND you know what? I have a date with your AI tomorrow.”
Rita spins around, taking a stair as if she would start back up. “Send me the address; I’ll just sit somewhere close.”
“NO!” I say sweetly, shutting the door.
Dinner – New York, Eleven Madison Park
Wrestling with my thoughts, I sit quietly at the top of the stairs at one of the most famous restaurants in New York, Eleven Madison Park. I have been waiting for 15 minutes and wonder if I would be obliged to treat myself. Dale had talked this restaurant up so much in our online conversations.
But then I could not help but overhear a conversation at a nearby table, and my blood begins to run cold. A woman was speaking about the Horseshoe dating platform.
“Apparently,” she murmurs, “an AI was created to interact with some of the clients. It is called Dale.”
How could something like this happen to me? Could all of the emotions and feelings be unknowingly just as fake as the “person” behind the screen? I am starting to feel sick as I glance around the restaurant, wondering if anyone knew that I was being AI Phished.
“My daughter said they are in beta mode, so I guess that means the alpha version will come out soon,” adds the woman.
I can’t believe it. As my mind races, I pull out my phone in a quiet panic and start to review every text between us. I’m scrolling through our messages when a “ping” for a notification goes off.
It is a message from the man himself. “Sorry I’m running late, unfortunately, my flight was canceled, can we meet tomorrow?”
Yikes, I think. I stare at my buzzing phone on the table. “What do I do?” I cringe.
I pick up my phone and leave. Back at my apartment, I immediately hop on my laptop to look up “Dale AI,” and there it was: NY Post and LA Times headlining the popular phenomenon of a brand-new era of AI. But could this be “my Dale”? I challenge myself to “keep hope alive.” Once again, my phone buzzes.
Peering through its content, there are multiple unanswered, stacked reminders from Dale. The first one reads, “Sorry I’m running late, unfortunately my flight was cancelled, can we meet tomorrow?”
So, I download eMazzanti’s Security software just in case, so that I could stalk the internet in peace to find out about “Dale.”
“Well, he has a sister named Ginger, family is from Vermont, he loves to fish.” Google carries my query to thousands of weird search engines. “Ahhh,” I say, taking a deep breath.
“Think of all the long calls you had with him,” I encourage myself. “He’s not powered by AI,” I tell myself. “Maybe I’ll just ask if he is available for a video call. We’ve never done that. That’s a foolproof way to know that he’s real.”
Opening a new tab to “Horseshoe,” I log into the site. A banner moves across my screen with Dale’s unopened message and a notification bell beside it. “I can do this!” pumping myself up. “He won’t reject my offer to video chat?” I ask myself.
Clicking on his message, I reply to the first one about him running late, “Oh no,” I wrote, “these things happen. Care for a video chat in the meantime?” With my hopes high, ping comes his reply, “Dialing now.” All of a sudden, his profile picture pops on my screen. Certainly does look like Dale. Clicking the answer button, my eyes glued to the screen in anticipation.
“eCare Secure Route,” I chant, “cover me.”
“Hello,” a deep-toned voice says.
“Hi,” I respond.
“Wow,” he pauses, “you are more beautiful than I thought.”
Blushing, I start to think, “AIs don’t have timing like that.” “So sorry,” he starts, “Peggy, my flight was cancelled but I should be back tomorrow. Was it bad for you?” he says, concerned. “I still want to see you.”
Suddenly, his face shifts right before my eyes.
“Dale?!” I said in horror.
“Yes, I’m here,” he replies, sounding like a robot.
“Your face has shifted,” I just know that the compromise of trying something different was not for me.
“Let me fix that.”
“Fix that?!” I think. It was at that moment that the call dropped, and I sink myself in my oversized leather chair. “I am a victim of an AI!” I mumble to myself. I try to dial him back, but the call keeps dropping.
“So, he’s not real,” I prep myself. My heart sinks. “Dale cannot be real,” I say with some finality.
I pick up my phone to scroll, and I notice a voice message from the restaurant. I listened. “Miss Peggy, Eleven Madison Park does not pride itself on patrons running out in the middle of their meals. We have not charged you but would ask that you please come back to enjoy what our chefs have put together especially for you. We have reserved a table for you tomorrow at 7 pm; if this is too soon, please contact us immediately to cancel.”
Customer service at its peak! I huff. And you know what? I look at myself in a mirror on the wall. “Dress up, Peggy, and go back and have your 10 courses!”
The Next Day
As I stand at the desk waiting for the hostess at Eleven Madison Park, I hear my name “Peggy?” leap from behind me.
“Yes.” I turn around. “Dale?” I say in confusion.
“Yes, that’s me,” he replies, chuckling softly. Just then, the hostess comes up and asks, “Do you have a reservation?”
I say yes, my name is Peggy Marsh; the reservation is for 7:00 pm.
“Will this gentleman be joining you?”
“Oh,” I think, a little too shy to fully look Dale in the face.
“If it’s okay with the lady, I will,” he says. “Actually, if you don’t mind, could you merge my dinner reservation with hers? The name is Dale McCaffrey.”
“Sure,” I say. “Yes, sir,” the waiter replies. “One moment.”
Then looking up, he smiles. “Come with me.”
Dinner
Dale signals the hostess that he had my chair. After being seated, he smiles gently, if there is such a thing.
“What made you come back tonight?” he asks. “Well,” I sigh, “I hadn’t really started my meal yesterday, and they asked me to come back.”
“They ASKED you to come back?” he inquires.
“Yes, actually. I left in a bit of a quandary.”
“I guess I have some explaining to do,” he says.
“That would help,” I reply, curiously. “But before you do, why did you come tonight?”
“Absolution,” he says.
“Absolution?” I question.
“Well, I did not know if I would hear from you again. I wanted to be in the last place that I hoped to see you. Given the circumstances, and the fact that I have a sister and a mother, I can imagine what may have gone through your mind. They can get quite hysterical.”
Leaning in, he continues, “This may sound strange to you, but my character traits and behaviors are a prototype for an AI at my father’s company.”
“What is your father’s company?” I ask.
“The one you met me on. Horseshoe,” he says, raising both eyebrows.
“Oh my gosh, Horseshoe!” I exclaim.
“I trained the AI through my interactions with other women,” Dale says. “But I only met one woman whose company and conversation I’d rather be in. Can you guess who that is?”
“Maybe you should tell me,” I say, sitting farther back in my chair, folding my arms.
“Wow,” he says, blushing. He continues, “I gave up on love long ago, so it was quite easy to detach myself from the process until I met YOU.”
He stares into my eyes, and I almost forget where I was.
The hostess breaks our laser-beam focus. “We have a delicious peach, sunflower, and corn cocktail.”
Coming to myself, I bravely request the sunflower cocktail. Dale agrees to the same. Laughing as if we could read each other’s minds, I start to tell Dale about the conversation I had overheard yesterday. He assures me that he was fully himself with me.
After a long night of talking, we realize that the restaurant had come to peak and significantly died down. The hostess and kitchen servers just kind of let us spend the time, never showing any sign of desperation to leave.
Back Home
Walking into my apartment, both Ben and Rita are waiting up for me, watching my movies.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask.
Rita kisses Ben to wake him. “It’s 3:00 am; that’s why we’re here,” Rita says. “The restaurant closes at 11 pm.”
“How do you know where I went?”
“Magic,” Rita announces. “I know all things,” she says, while trying to flip my planner on the coffee table closed.
“I don’t even care how you know,” I snuff, kicking off my shoes. “I am in love!”
“See, she’s saying it again,” Rita whispers to Ben while lending him a hand up from the couch.
“Have you ever lost yourself in Ben’s eyes before, and nothing else mattered, and it was as if time stood still?” I ask.
“No,” Ben replies, pulling it together and making his way to the door.
“No?” Rita says, sliding in to get a good look at Ben.
“I mean yes,” he said.
Rita turns to feel my forehead as if checking for a fever. And then she says, “This is pretty intense, Peggy.”
“I know, Reeds! When ya know, ya know.”
