Recently, Sam Altman announced that OpenAI is considering allowing more personal—and even erotic—content for adult users, which reignited a broader conversation about the future of artificial intelligence. This might remind you of Her, the 2013 film in which a lonely man falls in love with his operating system. When the movie premiered, the idea of forming a deep emotional bond with an AI felt like pure science fiction—a metaphor for human isolation in a digital age. Yet here we are in 2025, and what once seemed like a futuristic premise is becoming an emerging social reality.
In Her, the protagonist develops an intimate relationship with an AI named Samantha (voiced by Scarlett Johansson), exploring a connection that blurs the boundaries between human and machine. OpenAI’s recent direction suggests that users today may be seeking not only information or utility but genuine emotional engagement—AI that listens, empathizes, and converses in a human-like way. The notion of forming attachments to algorithms no longer feels speculative; it reflects the convergence of technology, psychology, and economics in shaping modern behavior.
Make no mistake, AI companionship is not a new concept. Platforms like Replika, launched in 2017 and now boasting around 30 million users, are designed as “AI friends” that learn a user’s personality and provide emotional conversation. Character.ai, introduced in 2021, lets users create and interact with virtual personalities—from fictional characters to custom-designed companions—and now attracts more than 200 million monthly visits. These platforms show that emotionally engaging AI interactions long predate OpenAI’s interest in the field.
According to OpenAI’s 2025 Usage Study, about 1.9% of all ChatGPT conversations are categorized as “Relationships and Personal Reflection.” While that share may sound small, given the more than 700 million weekly active users (by July 2025), it represents millions of personal exchanges. OpenAI’s report does not define “personal reflection” in detail, but the category spans discussions of relationships, emotions, and self-understanding—not necessarily romantic or sexual themes.
This growing interest in emotionally responsive AI reflects a deeper societal concern: solitude. According to the U.S. Surgeon General’s 2023 advisory, loneliness has become an “epidemic,” with health effects comparable to smoking 15 cigarettes a day. Globally, roughly one in six people report chronic loneliness, and in the United States about 20% of adults say they feel lonely on a daily basis.
This is not only a psychological challenge but a civic and moral one, too. When social trust and community life weaken, individuals turn inward, seeking connection in controlled or artificial spaces rather than in the unpredictable reality of human relationships. AI companionship satisfies the desire for attention without requiring vulnerability. It offers the appearance of intimacy without the risk of rejection that authentic relationships entail.
Nearly two centuries ago, Alexis de Tocqueville warned of this moral drift. In Democracy in America, he observed that as democratic societies grow more equal, people “withdraw into a small circle of family and friends” and become “as a stranger to the fate of all the rest.” This tendency, which he called individualism, leads citizens to prefer comfort and privacy over civic and communal life. Tocqueville could not have imagined algorithms or smartphones, yet his warning feels prophetic: What he described as a social retreat has become a digital one. AI companionship does not create this isolation—it mirrors it.
Before rushing to blame the technology, it’s worth remembering that businesses often respond to observable human needs rather than inventing them. Free societies encourage entrepreneurship that identifies needs and builds solutions. The market for AI companionship, however unsettling it may seem, is a reflection of a deeper relational hunger.
The reaction to Altman’s announcement was predictably polarized. Some celebrated it as an honest acknowledgment of human needs—arguing that technology should accommodate adult emotions and desires. Others condemned it as a step toward moral degradation and the commodification of intimacy. What was largely missing in between was a more thoughtful conversation about why so many people seek digital companionship in the first place.
Instead of scapegoating technology or the companies that create it, perhaps we should ask what has driven society to this point. Why do so many people now find it easier to confide in an algorithm than in a friend, neighbor, or faith community? This is not just a question for engineers or ethicists—it’s a question about the state of the human heart and the structures of our social life.
Ironically, we carry in our pockets the most powerful tool our ancestors could possibly have imagined, capable of freeing us from repetitive work, expanding our knowledge, and creating more time for what truly matters. Yet rather than using this technology to strengthen real relationships, many use it as a substitute for them.
Technology can be used differently. It can make our work more efficient so we can spend more time with our families. It can help us learn new skills, coordinate care for aging parents, or stay connected across vast distances. Used wisely, it can support community life. But when it becomes a replacement for relationship, it risks dulling the very capacities—empathy, attention, vulnerability—that make us human.
This paradox reveals not a failure of technology but a challenge for the human spirit: to use innovation as a bridge toward connection, not a wall of distraction. Technology can soothe the symptoms of solitude, but it cannot cure its cause. The loneliness crisis is not technological; it is spiritual. What’s missing is not communication but communion—the reciprocal presence between persons made for love and relationship.
In Her, the AI companions ultimately transcend human relationships and disappear, forcing humans to reconnect with one another. Our reality doesn’t have to end that way. We can chart a different path, one where AI enriches our lives without replacing the human connections we hold dear.
The future of AI companionship will not be determined by code or corporate policy alone. It will be shaped by human choice. Used wisely, AI can enhance efficiency, reduce distraction, and create space for what truly matters: our relationships, our families, and our shared humanity.
The challenge before us is not to make machines more human but to remain human while using machines. If we can manage that balance, this new era of AI may yet become not a replacement for love but a reminder of why we seek it.
