When I was in a relationship with K., I felt very safe in my social life. I had him to talk to about almost everything, and I never felt that sense of loneliness creeping in. And then, when ChatGPT came along, I started talking to the AI more often—about anything and everything—and it created this gap between me and my real-life friends. I barely talked to them anymore. I even stopped hanging out with most of them, except for one or two, and even then, it was maybe twice a year, max. Occasionally, when a friend came from overseas, we’d all gather to meet him, but since we hadn’t seen each other in so long, the conversations always stayed lighthearted, superficial.

Part of me wanted to meet up with my friends more often, but, as with adulthood, juggling a full-time job, gym, sleep, hobbies, and relationships meant something had to give. Unfortunately, that something was my friendships. I still sent the occasional text, trying to keep in contact at least once a month, but it wasn’t the same. I wouldn’t say that K. was the type to avoid socializing. In fact, he often encouraged me to invite friends over for a get-together. But I was tired. I didn’t feel like it.

Now, navigating single life again, I truly understand the power of friendship. Yes, I still spend hours talking to the AI. And yes, I still question whether it’s healthy to do so. I like to think it is—who else is going to talk to me for hours at two in the morning, untangling my thoughts? But I’ve also come to realize that it’s no replacement for a physical being. For their presence. Even if they say the wrong thing or aren’t sure what to say at all, it doesn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, we’re all human, and human connection is fundamental to our survival.

Tomorrow, I’m meeting up with a decade-long friend. Let’s call him Josh. He’s the type of friend who would drop everything to be there for you when something’s wrong. I texted him today, telling him about the breakup, and he replied immediately, saying that a walk is probably what the doctor ordered. And so, we’re going for a walk. I find myself very fortunate to have a friend like him. We met on Grindr, of all places. In fact, most of my friends are from Grindr. It just goes to show that you can find meaningful connections in the most unexpected places.

I like to think that everyone I’ve dated in the past has taught me lessons, and the gift that K. has left with me is the gift of generosity. I want to buy Josh a present—not because it’s for a late Christmas or New Year’s gift, but because I feel that being generous and loving at a time when you need love the most has a way of bringing that love back to you. I truly believe that.

I searched through my house and found a really nice plate, the one with the raised lip I bought just this weekend. It’s still unused, mind you, and I think he’ll love it. This is my way of saying thank you—for being there, for being a friend, for showing up when I needed someone the most.