Ignoring ChatGPT
I went on six first dates in one week — an experiment for my job on how to use A.I. to date effectively. Onur is from Turkey. After only a few dates, he brought me a rose, asked me to be “his” and kissed me passionately. ChatGPT advised me to block him: “He’s pursuing you too aggressively.” But I couldn’t deny the chemistry, or the strange coincidence that I once wrote a romance novel about an Afro-Latina woman like me who falls for a Turkish man named (you guessed it) Onur. Kismet is a concept that a computer can’t understand. — Aleichia Celestina Williams
When Mistakes Become Mementos
My son, Chauncey, died a few years ago of a fentanyl overdose. He was a brilliant, eccentric autodidact, an excellent farmer and chef, but he chose to work as a carpenter and plumber. He was not good at either job. Yet, when he offered to build my new bathroom, I said yes. Now every time I take a shower and see the dribbles of grout on the wall, stand on the still-unattached drain plate or get drenched using the hand nozzle with a mind of its own, I think of him. I will never get them fixed. — Susan Rothchild
Braids That Bind
My husband started growing out his hair a decade ago. I hated it at first. “Cut your hair!” I’d shout, exasperated. “You’re just jealous of my beautiful Irish locks,” he’d reply. I thought about my thinning menopausal mane and realized I was indeed envious. Later, he approached me with a request: “Braid my hair? Two braids, like a French revolutionary soldier.” I hadn’t made a braid since elementary school, and I was clueless about the French military. But I accepted the challenge. Now I braid his hair every two weeks, grateful for my next-generation Willie Nelson. — Melissa Tell
When We Were Three
My husband, Josh, and I weren’t looking for a boyfriend. Being a “throuple” felt unthinkable, like letting a stranger intrude on our 11-year relationship. Then we met Jimmy. From the moment he smiled at us and said, “Hey, boys,” we were hooked. We bonded over struggles as much as good times: back pain, obsessive thoughts, scars from religious pasts. After six months, Jimmy said he loved us. But a few weeks later, he was gone. My husband and I have found happy equilibrium again as a couple. But we still miss Jimmy and the dream of our family of three. — Levi Bucao
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