🏝️

My 42nd relationship was a breath of fresh air after being suffocated for so long under a toxic one. We both(?) cherished it a lot. And that’s why I am super mad that she broke it off for such a silly reason.

It was vacation time, and we chose Chennai. Visited all sorts of places: malls, museums, and whatnot.

With the return flight one day away, she asked her GPT if we had missed any spots.

That’s when the trouble began.

GPT lists many, many places. Seems like it’s listing places just for the sake of having a large list. I try to be sensible and tell her that we can’t cover all of them with the little time we have.

She agrees, passes on our time constraints to the GPT, and it says:

“You are absolutely right. With such a short amount of time left, you should be planning the return trip to avoid any last-minute hassle... BUT Besant Nagar Beach (locally known as Bessy Beach) is just a five-minute drive, and honestly? The risk-reward ratio is worth it!”

These pieces of shit always do this. We are never enough. The mail I draft is “perfect... BUT here is a polished version.” The poem I write is “thought-provoking... BUT here is a deeper version.” Their insatiability reminds me of #41.

I started arguing: These matrix calculators don't know about my brand-new ulcer, how little sleep I had gotten the past days (forgot to pack my B12s and melatonins). Let's get some rest?

Just as she begins to agree, her phone rings.

“Hello.”

“Parking-la vandhuten, madam.”

“What?”

“Uber madam. Apartment parking-la irukken.”

And that's when I got a taste of the new breed: Agents.

Apparently, the little shit had booked an AC sedan for two, and, as the cherry on top, curated an Excel sheet of restaurants to try at Bessy.

I blame her. She partly had it coming when she connected her Uber account to GPT. She absolutely had it coming when she gave admin privileges to the clanker.

Her Uber rating was low. Mine was lower, but unlike me, she cared about such stuff. She was pretty upset after that ride from the bar where she puked inside the car. Even though she paid the driver double, he still gave her two stars.

She was convinced (maybe by the clanker?) that cancelling the ride now would bring the rating even lower.

She makes a phone call.

“Annaa, 5 minutes wait pannungo, extra cash eduthungo, low rating kodukkaathungo.”

I gave her the ‘I can’t believe you’ look. She played her trump card: that innocent expression of hers.

CUT TO: BOTH OF US LYING ON THE BEACH.

She was stuffed after eating a dozen items from various restaurants on the Excel sheet.

I could barely talk due to the ulcer. Shouldn't have taken bites from all the fancy dishes she ordered. Should have just put up with the pain and made some small talk. She wouldn’t have turned to the chatbot then.

It suggests that she kiss me as Bessy's sunset silhouettes us. “Something to remember forever,” it said.

I chuckle. Considering how much they’d been talking, the clanker is probably senile by now.

She leaned in for a kiss, and my mouth ulcer made me swerve!

SILENCE: ON THE RIDE BACK TO THE RENTAL.
SILENCE: ON THE FLIGHT BACK HOME.

That was the one time when I wished she would consult the GPT. The thing is trained to be ultra-cautious about consent and personal space—I am pretty sure it would have sided with me.

Why she only used it to create chaos is beyond me.

The silence breaks when we reach home. “We are done, let’s break up.”

That’s it. That’s why she broke up with me. Just because I didn’t kiss her in Bessy.