There’s the old joke about the city boy who gets caught hooked up to a milking machine in the farmer’s barn. He begs the farmer for help. The farmer’s reply,”Don’t worry it will shut off when it gets six quarts.”
Talk about the horns of a dilemma! On the one hand, there is the traditional path find a mate and run the gambit from true love to barely concealed contempt to indifference and hope you pick up enough indicators to avoid the fatal confrontation.
The non-traditional path is to spend the ten thousand dollars on a sex robot. The high initial investment is probably a push, as it is offset by ongoing savings. With the robot, there are no expensive dinners, no gifts, and no vacations. Presumably, things will go along fine since the robot can’t think independently.
There are added advantages. Toilet seat up or down doesn’t matter. Never a discouraging word. No headaches, no heartaches, and no pains-in-the-ass.
Trouble, in paradise, starts when a hacker takes control and issues a kill command. One can only hope that the command is hidden in a connubial bliss program and not the shower scene from “Psycho.”Hackers-could-program-sex-robots-to-kill/ What they say is right; there is no such thing as a free lunch.