I was reading an article about the “loneliness epidemic” and about the downsides of using generative text AI (like ChatGPT) as a therapist or a friend. It is popular to avoid face-to-face or even human interactions these days, so I enjoyed the cynical tone of the piece.

But then the author said that AI companions might be suitable for certain populations like “the elderly or the cognitively impaired” because trying to make the loneliness go away by other means would just cause “needless suffering.”

That was when I said, on the bus, out loud, “Oh come ON.”

I hate the idea that being “elderly” or even “lonely” means you can’t act on your problems. Everyone is lonely sometimes. And given enough luck, most people are going to be elderly, too. That doesn’t mean you should start confiding in a stochastic parrot while everyone else gives up on helping you.

See, being “old” is not the same as being “dead,” and it doesn’t mean “demented,” either. After 85, the chances of dementia certainly get bigger – 1 in 5, according to the NIH – but that’s still not a guarantee. “Old” doesn’t mean “cognitively impaired,” either, or maybe it does. I wouldn’t know. I feel as smart as I ever did, which is to say I’m often confused and forgetful, but I was that way when I was eight.

Then, god help me, I read a different article, about healthy aging, and the author quoted someone in his sixties who said he planned to live to 75.

What the hell? I turn 74 next month. I would like to think I have a lot more time than a year. If you make it to 75, the odds are pretty good you’re going to live quite a bit longer. I have to finish doing algebra with Khan Academy, I plan on taking a French class soon, and I have a lot of little trips to take. I am not scheduling my death any time soon. Too much to do.

Am I perfectly healthy? Nope. I have arthritic knees and a bad hip, I have asthma (which I have had since I was 30), and my blood sugar sucks. I got rid of my car a couple of years back, because there are a lot of people out there on their phones doing an “Idaho stop” at the stop signs.

Am I immune to loneliness? Oh, heck no. My husband is dead, and so are an awful lot of the people I used to know.

But some of the loneliest people I know are in their twenties. And though old friends die, I keep making new friends who are going to outlive me.

I have had people say to my face they were going to kill themselves when they get old. And they didn’t understand why I looked perplexed at being told that. I’m their definition of old, so it’s effectively an insult. Seriously. They’re saying, “If I get like you, I’m going to off myself.” What am I supposed to say? “I get that?” No no no no no.

Someone else told me, when I criticized elective suicide as a solution to aging, that I was being disrespectful of other people’s choices. Damn right I am. I get to look at other people’s choices and say, “Wow, that’s a stupid idea. Also, consider who you’re talking to.” And I sure am not going to go make friends with an AI automaton, rather than (as I just did) having a 45 minute chat with a friend who called while I was writing this post.

I disagreed with my friend on just about everything we talked about, which is half the fun of having real human friends.