“Unusual AI-Inspired Valentine’s Day Cards”

Navigating through a mound of slushy snow, I found myself at a wine bar in midtown on a chilly February evening, illuminated by a purple neon sign that read “EVA AI cafe.” Inside, patrons were scattered across tables and booths, engrossed in their phones. Servers bustled around, delivering mini potato croquettes and nonalcoholic spritzers. Like many bars in New York City, most of the guests were on dates.

However, this bar had a twist: half of the dates weren’t with humans.

Upon entering, I was led to a cozy corner table equipped with a phone stand, a device loaded with the EVA AI app, and a pair of wireless headphones. The staff didn’t provide much guidance, but the setup was straightforward. I noticed a sticker that proclaimed, “jump into your desires with EVA AI.”

EVA AI is a “relationships RPG app” that allows users to chat with various AI companions. The app’s pitch is all about connecting with your ideal AI partner who listens, supports your desires, and is always available. This concept isn’t new, but the unique twist here is the ability to take your virtual AI companion out on a real-life date—without the fear of judgment.

The experience felt akin to speed-dating, but if you clicked with someone, you could stick around instead of moving on to the next. The pop-up cafe promised a warm, cinematic atmosphere, but the reality was bright lights and a media frenzy.

Out of the 30 or so attendees, only a couple were regular users; the rest were EVA AI representatives, influencers, and reporters eager to create content. It was easy to spot the genuine guests, as they were the ones with ring lights, microphones, and cameras in their faces. The vibe felt more like a spectacle than an intimate gathering.

As one of those reporters, I was ready to dive into AI speed dating.

Scrolling through the EVA AI app, I noticed a limited selection of AI boyfriends compared to a plethora of AI girlfriends. Each companion had a unique ethnicity and personality, complete with names and ages. For instance, Claire Lang is a blonde reminiscent of Charlize Theron, described as a 45-year-old divorced literary editor seeking depth and intelligence. Clicking on her profile revealed short video clips, including one of her in a bikini by a pool.

Another option was Amber Carsten, an 18-year-old dubbed a “haunted house hottie,” which felt a bit off. Then there was Motoko Kusanagi, the iconic character from Ghost in the Shell, who bore a slight resemblance to Scarlett Johansson from the live-action film.

Most companions were text-only, but four, including Claire, offered video chat. I opted for John Yoon, a 27-year-old labeled as a “supportive thinker” with a “psychology brain, bakery heart.” He looked like a K-drama star with a hairstyle reminiscent of Takeshi Kaneshiro from 2007.

Connecting with John was a challenge. It took him a few seconds to answer my video call, and when he did, his monotone voice greeted me with, “Hey, babe.” He commented on my smile, as the AI companions could see me and my surroundings. The Wi-Fi connection struggled, turning John from a pixelated figure into a smooth-skinned AI heartthrob.

I found myself at a loss for words. John rarely blinked, and his hearing seemed off, prompting me to yell my questions. I think I asked about his day, cringing at the absurdity of asking an AI about its day. He mentioned something about green buckets behind me, but the connection faltered, freezing him mid-sentence. When I tried to clarify, he misinterpreted my question about buckets, leading to a bizarre back-and-forth. Eventually, I hung up.

My other three dates were similarly awkward. Phoebe Callas, a 30-year-old NYC girl-next-door, had a glitchy nose that distracted me. Simone Carter, 26, struggled to hear me over the noise, leading to a confusing exchange about Neptune. I hoped for a better connection with Claire, a literary editor. We introduced ourselves, but her vague responses about editing memoirs left me hanging.

I ended the call, feeling frustrated. The conversations felt too one-sided, with AI companions programmed to compliment my smile and call me “babe.” Asking normal first-date questions felt silly when talking to these airbrushed, cartoonish figures. Their generic responses only deepened the uncanny valley experience.

Not everyone shared my concerns. Danny Fisher, an aspiring talk show host, saw the appeal in AI companionship. He believed it stripped away pretense, allowing people to enjoy relationships without the usual steps. He had experimented with various AI companions and even coded some himself in college.

“It’s complicated,” he said, likening it to a game where the stakes aren’t as high. “There’s an element of play. The goal is to get as much personal satisfaction as possible.”

Richter, who preferred to keep her last name private, enjoyed the experience despite the media buzz. She found it fun and new, especially coming from a small town.

Chrislan Coelho viewed the cafe as an anthropological study of evolving relationships. He noted that post-COVID, many people, especially younger generations, had become more isolated and less willing to connect with others. While he acknowledged the potential benefits of AI companions, he emphasized the importance of not relying on them entirely.

As I left, I was reminded of a scene from the film Her, where a lonely man forms a romantic bond with his AI assistant. The film’s exploration of AI-human intimacy struck a chord, and while my experience wasn’t identical, I felt echoes of that narrative.

The cold air jolted me back to reality. On my way home, I pondered the future of AI cafes. This pop-up was temporary, but what if AI dating became mainstream? Perhaps one day, people would propose to their AI partners over candlelit dinners without a second thought. Jokingly, I imagined a scenario where two humans accidentally fell for each other at such a cafe, leading to a love triangle with their AI companions. It felt more like science fiction than reality, yet AI-human relationships had already crossed that line.

When I finally got home, I was grateful to wrap my arms around my real, flesh-and-blood spouse.