"The feminists howled, of course, but they could not stop a train they had set in motion. Bots replaced them not just for sex but for all the work women would no longer do. Once again, men came home to clean houses, great meals, ironed shirts, and well-mannered sons. What men had traditionally regarded as “girls’ stuff” was now “bots’ stuff”, at a lower price and with no headaches." - William S. Lind
Years ago my father in law and I were on what would be our last hunting trip out together. At night we sat by the fire and smoked cigars largely in silence. Out of the blue he started talking about how he wished he’d never married his wife or had become a father. It caught me totally by surprise. Silently I topped up our glasses and re-lit my stoagie from a taper in the fire. He started talking about girls he knew in the late 50s and early 60s as he stared into the fire and it was disconcerting as hell. I didn’t know what to say. Doug was a henpecked man, I could see how living with that woman of his could be soul crushing. I suppose today we call women like that “Karen’s”. I kept my silence and tried to focus my attention on savouring my cigar and my dram. He’d spent most of his life married to that woman and to hear him talk like that just left me out of sorts. I felt sorry for him, and prayed that I’d never find myself talking like that when I was his age. He’d have done well in a world where women were replaced by sexbots.
If I were to go back light years in time and sit down by that fire with our younger selves, I’d speak my piece too. Unlike my father in law I married very well. As a husband I was a good man too. We had our bumps and lord… some of those bumps and lumps were hard and I still feel the aches and pains from them…but we did well. Others have done much worse.
We failed as parents. Badly. I had no idea what I was doing, and had every shitlib femcnut in my ear correcting me and telling me how it should be done. I wish to God I’d never been a father either. Looking back on my life, a world without women would be empty somehow, no matter how good the AI simulacrums got, and no matter how bad today’s women get.
Today, the old man is in a wheel chair, with his family scattered on the winds. He eats through a tube in his stomach, and Parkinson’s has left him with nought but two brain cells to rub together. I doubt he’d remember me at all nowadays, or our hunting trip in the glorious fall foothills on on the eastern slopes of the Rockies. And that rancid hag of a wife he wished he’d never met? She wheels him around and cares for him with tenderness and love now. She helps him take a bath, she helps him onto the pot, she strolls him around in a wheelchair.
I wonder, as men and women, regardless of the culture or times… I wonder if we are only reflections of each other’s virtues and vices? Would a bot be able to reflect yours back at you?