I can’t believe I just did that. My hand is still shaking. Like, actually trembling. This whole date was a goddamn train wreck but somehow, miraculously, she wants a second one. BECAUSE I CHEATED. I cheated on a date. With a fucking AI. I just wanted to be... normal for an hour. Just one hour where I wasn't thinking about if I’d remembered to give Papa his evening meds, or if the fridge was actually going to last another week, or if the school called about Leo again. Just one night where I didn’t feel like a desiccated husk of a human, just... me. So I tried. I actually tried. I picked out a decent shirt, I even shaved, but the words just weren’t coming. She was so bright, so quick, telling these funny stories about her backpacking trip through Southeast Asia and all I could think was, *god, I wish I could remember what it feels like to just… go somewhere.* So I did it. I pulled my phone out under the table, just to "check a text" and typed in: *“cute anecdote about nearly missing a flight in Thailand, what’s a witty response?”* And then I waited. Like, three agonizing seconds. And the AI spit out something about "a true adventurer's spirit, embracing the chaos!" which, okay, a little cheesy, but I just said it with a smile, like it was MY thought. MY clever observation. And she laughed. She actually LAUGHED. And then I kept doing it. Like a crack addict. Every time she told a joke, I was typing furiously under the table, “*she told a joke about a dog, give me something charmingly self-deprecating but not too much so it sounds like I’m fishing for compliments.*” And it gave me one! About my own terrible sense of direction! And I said it! And she thought I was SO FUNNY. I swear I checked that thing twenty-seven times. I know because I remember glancing at the clock on my phone each time and I swear the numbers burned into my retina. My battery is at 13% now. And she wants a second date. She actually thinks *I* am interesting. When all I did was feed her lines from a damn algorithm. What am I supposed to do now? Do I memorize a bunch of chatbot responses before the next one? Do I just keep cheating? The thought makes me sick but… the idea of just being myself? Of showing her the REAL me, the one who spends her nights awake wondering if Papa’s breathing sounds a little off, the one who hasn't bought new clothes in three years because Leo needs new shoes every six months… I don’t even know what that person would say. I don’t know who that person is anymore.