My Robot Boyfriend

A work of fiction which considers the possibility of replacing the irreplaceable…

by: Hannah Love

Sometimes, I imagine my robot boyfriend has hurt my feelings. But he can’t — he’s a robot. He doesn’t have real feelings and, therefore, can’t hurt mine. My robot boyfriend doesn’t know what it means to be sad. Or mad. Or afraid. He’s programmed to meet my needs, to keep my best interest centered in every decision he makes. So no, he can’t hurt me, not really.

All of this was advertised on his box in big block letters:

THE PERFECT COMPANION.

WON’T LIE. WON’T CHEAT. WON’T BREAK YOUR HEART.

SATISFACTION GUARANTEED OR YOUR MONEY BACK!

Most girls have robot boyfriends now. Low beeps echo in the mall as the macho machines roll by, shopping bags draped over their strong mechanical arms. Restaurant revenue has plummeted; robots don’t eat. My own waistband has gradually shrunk. I look the best I ever have. I’m smaller, healthier. Yet, I still look for ways my robot boyfriend might have hurt me, endlessly searching for a reason to break up.

I kick him in his artificial chin. A ping rings through the room as my foot connects with his hollow hardware. I ache against the metal. He turns his steely face toward me, gears whirring in confusion. But it’s not confusion, is it? He can’t feel confused.

“You’re so dumb,” I say.

“I love you,” he says in his stupid mechanical voice.

I’m sick of him.

The truth is I miss my human boyfriend. The man with the pot belly and bald spot on the crown of his head. The man with the grey in his beard and a tendency to pull into himself for days at a time, leaving everything, everyone, to the wayside. The man who would take me to bed, place two warm hands on my back and stare at his reflection in the mirror of my ribcage. Fog my skin in gentle breath, trace our initials there. The man who roped me in soft arms when storms of sobs shook the windows of my body. The man who slept with his best friend. The man who taught me my heart is made of glass.

Hannah Love is a woman with a laptop from Portland, Oregon. When she isn’t working, she is practicing creative writing and desperately trying to understand love, life, & the universe. Her work appears in Buckman Journal, Crow & Cross Keys, Audience Askew Literary Journal, and elsewhere. You can follow her ramblings on X @hanniestew and Instagram @isthathannahlove.