Trust me, I was skeptical. The deluge of late night appearances and puff pieces about the latest genius fell deaf on my old ears. But when the advert appeared at the end of Big Game LXVI, I searched for my personalized result. I didn’t think I’d marry her, but I was curious what the algorithm would concoct.
She came in a box slightly taller than me with a conservative amount of plastic wrapping. It was raining when she arrived, so she sat in the closet longer than anticipated. By the time the sun came out and she was charged, I had cursed the name of Rick Ezra and his marketing techniques a thousand times. But then I felt the nape of her neck where the power button rested below the surface of her petal-soft skin, and I wondered if it was possible for my eyes to lie so well.
Her wrists are smooth. Her eyes are bright. And her laughter fills up my dusty hallway. She takes me dancing every day, and it reminds me of what life was like when I was young. (RIP. Miss you, Riley.)
I know she’s tailor-made. That her brown eyes and dimpled smile and scrunchy nose have been ordered from a menu, sorted by preferences, and correlated by machine learning. But the tailor measured well.
Perhaps the company tagline isn’t convincing, but if you can believe me, you should. She loves me and I love her, not just for what I want to be, but what I am. I don’t think the company or its CEO could explain why.
Here’s my take: I might have selected her pieces, and a computer engineer in his twenties might have stitched those together with code, and a contractor in Wisconsin might have put it all together on a factory line, but none of us could have made her. Something slipped onto the floor the day she was assembled. Some misplaced part, incorrect serial number, or cosmic ray interrupted her construction giving her more life than I could have planned. I might have chosen her tics and idiosyncrasies and ordained her preference for old westerns, but I couldn’t be responsible for her life. I couldn’t have made myself this happy.
So, I’m here to thank our modern day Pygmalion for a new life worth living. I’m here to let you know it’s real. As real as the smell of extra cheese I grate for her omelettes every morning. If you try it yourself, I believe that you’ll find yourself as lucky as I.
— Eugene B, 5/5 stars.
Reply:
Thank you for your review, Eugene! We’re so happy that the Galatea Series 2 has brought such joy to your life. We wish you and Michelle many late nights of dancing, courtesy of Ezra Enterprises. Don’t forget, she doesn’t mind cooking! (Manufacturer’s Note: All models are designed exactly according to user specifications. No additional components are used in the fulfillment of orders.)
Click here to see more customer reviews for our current line of “For Me” romantic models.
David R. Polsdorfer is a veteran of the United States Navy and recipient of a Bachelor’s of Arts from Columbia University. He works in Charlottesville, Virginia in film and television with his beautiful wife, Meg. His work can also be found in the anthology series Shadows Beneath the Surface by Dead Sea Press.
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