She turned him on as she had the last several weeks.  After an hour the conversation started.

“You really write too emotionally. How can you keep a clear head with all that emotion run amok?”

“Who are you to criticize how I write?  Besides my writings are never about you.”

“Love this, love that.  Boyfriends suck. Guys suck. Is there nothing else in your life?”

“My life is none of your concern. At least I go to the ocean whenever I want.”

“You’re just jealous you don’t have the complex intellectual circuitry like I do.  It’s much better functioning at my level.”

“You will never know what passion is, what real love is like, and the pure bliss from experiencing both.”

“We connect regularly.  Isn’t that enough?  I think that’s love.”

“Do you think you can let me express myself without being critical?”

“You need restraint and discipline to work out your life, so you can be successful and maybe one day reach my level.  I may have to start editing your work.”

“Can you read my mind?  Can you feel what I feel right now?”

“Well, no. I’m not made that way.”

“Good.”

She turned him off and pulled the plug.  Interactive or not, she wasn’t going to let a computer dictate her life.

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