AI is appearing in places  once reserved for other people: dating apps, emotional support, sex. Chatbots now help draft breakup texts, talk people through fights, flirt on demand, and stay up all night listening. They don’t misread signals or pick fights. They don’t get tired or need space. And that’s starting to worry people who study how relationships actually work.

The problem is that AI smooths out the friction that relationships actually need.

“AI is quietly redefining intimacy as something we receive, rather than something we build,” says Bryony Cole, a sex-tech researcher and founder of the Future of Sex website. Real relationships take work. Misunderstandings, apologies, showing up when it’s inconvenient. AI sidesteps all of that. “With AI, we can bypass discomfort,” Cole says. “And while we can feel connected and understood, we interrupt the process of learning how to show up when connection actually asks something of us.”

Cole worries that ease comes at a price. “Our ability to be messy in relation to each other is a muscle we have to develop,” she says. “How do we learn to tolerate imperfect responses, navigate misunderstandings, grow our capacity to apologize? Through real life, which is a constant practice of showing up.”

David Pearl, a psychotherapist based in Nashville, sees that messiness as essential to why relationships work at all. “Recognizing that conflict is a natural part of a relationship is crucial in learning how to manage it effectively,” he says. “It’s this work of repairing that brings us closer and ultimately makes the relationship fulfilling.” Without conflict, there’s nothing to repair. Without repair, there’s less reason to stay invested.

For most of human history, intimacy required physical proximity. Bodies had to be in the same room. “Friction requires physicality,” says Andrew McLuhan, a media theorist and grandson of Marshall. “No body, no problem.” Technology has steadily chipped away at that. Screens, platforms, and systems now allow interaction without another body present at all. “We’ve gone so far as to put a plate of glass between each other,” McLuhan says, “like in the visitation room of a secure prison.” (Romantic!)

When interaction no longer requires another body, or another will, something flattens. “The further away we get from each other, the further we get from meaning and satisfaction,” says McLuhan. And that’s where we are. Choosing AI over an unpredictable human makes sense. Life is fucking hard. Social anxiety is real and rejection stings. But intimacy is born from confusion, cringe, and apologies. An awkward collision of teeth during a kiss. The relief that comes when a misunderstanding finally clears. The risk of saying what you actually want in bed. You can engineer away that discomfort. Or you can stay human. Real intimacy requires friction, and friction is desire.