Get Ready To Hi-Five Your Droid

Marc Oakley
3 min readMar 25, 2020


Hello AI. Goodbye DUI.

They make the trail of crumbs that your nephew joyfully sprinkled across your carpet disappear in a flash. They are a boon to manufacturing and medicine. They automize. They systemize. Heck, they even drive.

But the most life-altering niche that robots are poised to fill is that of the invaluable wingman. One who takes one for the team by dancing with the fat chick (or husky fella). One whose terrible jokes drop the bar to the point that your decade-old punchline sounds fresh. One who’s always got an endless supply of Altoids or a spare lighter.

Pre-programmed to know precisely what you find most appealing in a partner, your droid has already scanned the bar, weeding out the wackos and serial friend-zoners by the time your IPA has touched your lips. An example of machine learning at its finest, your droid knows the last time you scored and will ratchet up the tactics to get you laid accordingly.

Programmed to set you up for sex -uh -success, you’ll be given first names of potential matches (intermittently flashing across the robot’s screen), pet status and, most importantly, red flags to avoid in conversation. You think your Sean Connery accent is on point? She likes her White Claw stirred, not shaken. Disaster averted.

After navigating the salty seas of flirtation, pleasantries have been exchanged and there may be a connection here. With conversation picking up, your droid closely monitors every exchange, thwarting your attempts at long-winded stories, oddball references, and boastful tales that frankly make you sound like an idiot.

Sealed the deal? Titanium fist bump. Your robot will download all juicy bits from you the next morning and enter every detail of your conquest into your records. This will be forever marked on your calendar, and a beer will be ceremoniously raised year in and year out.

Struck out? Drowning your sorrows? No worries. Your droid will monitor your drinking, working diligently to mitigate tomorrow’s hangover by tracking your BAC and suggesting aptly-timed glasses of water and bar snacks. After all, bots hate cleaning up puke as much as humans do.



Marc Oakley

Shepherd of words. Wrangler of turds. Toddler survivor. Writer for #The Ascent and #The Riff. Ambassador of Hope at THE WALLOBOOKS PROJECT.