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 the sycophant goes:

“You are absolutely right. With such a short amount of time left, you should be preparing for the return trip instead... but one place I would still suggest is Besant Nagar Beach (locally known as Bessy Beach). Just a 5-minute drive from your location, and honestly? The risk-reward ratio is worth it!”

These pieces of shit always do this. 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.” Nothing is ever enough. Their insatiability reminds me of #41.

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

Just as she begins to agree, her phone rings.

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 gave her .

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

She makes a phone call.

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.

By now, the ulcer has worsened. Shouldn’t have tried the signature item at the restaurant in the third row. Too spicy. It hurts to even talk. So I don’t. I watched Bessy's sunset turn people into silhouettes.

In retrospect, I should have just put up with the pain and made some small talk. She wouldn’t have turned to the chatbot then. Clankers get dumber as the conversation gets long. Considering how much she had been talking with it, it's probably senile by now. She is full from all the fancy dishes. But she didn't yield. Asks it for low energy activities to do.

Clanker suggests that she kiss me. “Something to remember forever,” it said. It definitely is senile now.

While I chuckled at the ridiculousness, she leaned in for a kiss. 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.