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I asked an AI sex coach for advice – and here’s what happened

Your love life (and kinks) sorted out by a robot for £25 a month? Got to be worth a go, thought Franki Cookney

Monday 13 November 2023 09:18 EST
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I already know the answer to ‘Why is my sex drive low?’ before I even start to type it
I already know the answer to ‘Why is my sex drive low?’ before I even start to type it (Getty/iStock)

Tell me, what aspects of your fantasies excite you the most?”

I pause, my fingers hovering over the keyboard as I consider how to respond. What aspects of my fantasies do excite me the most? I’m not sure I’ve ever been asked before.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve shared many a sexual fantasy with a partner. But this is not a steamy sext exchange. I’m talking to a sex coach. Or writing to, I should say. Oh, and it’s not a real person, it’s an algorithm (albeit a very open-minded one).

“It’s essential to embrace your fantasies and not judge yourself for them. They are a personal and intimate part of your sexuality. There is no right or wrong when it comes to what turns you on.”

When I first heard about the Beducated’s AI Sex Coach I was sceptical. Sex is one of the most vulnerable human experiences. How could typing questions into a chatbot really help with that? Is this going to be like the time they tried to convince us that attaching a kissing gadget to our phones could be the answer to long-distance relationships?

I have been reporting on sex and relationships for almost a decade and time and time again, I’ve found myself coming up against the fact that what most sexual problems require cannot be bought in Ann Summers. Most people – when it comes to working through their hang-ups, understanding their sexuality, and exploring their desires – need time and open dialogue.

Sex and relationship therapy is currently having a moment, thanks to shows like Couples Therapy, Esther Perel’s Where Should We Begin podcast, and not forgetting Gillian Anderson’s star turn as sex therapist Jean Milburn in Sex Education. But the reality is that not everyone can afford to spend £70 an hour to dig into the who/what/why of their sexual mores. Maybe there’s a place for AI here after all.

I decided to give Sex Coach a go. A subscription costs from £25 a month but non-subscribers can send the chatbot up to 10 messages a day for free which seems more than enough for my needs. Of course, I’m not really the target audience for this kind of coaching. I already know the answer to “why is my sex drive low?” before I even start to type it. My sex drive is low because I have two small kids and a precarious job, and a mountain of washing, and endless life admin, and I’m exhausted, and London childcare costs the same as the GDP of a small nation, and the news is a horror show, and the planet is dying.

“Occasional changes in sex drive are normal and can be influenced by factors like stress, fatigue, or changes in hormone levels,” the bot tells me, brightly. “Prioritising good sleep, engaging in regular physical activity, eating a balanced diet, and minimising substance use can positively affect your libido.”

The bot is supposedly drawing on a library of more than a hundred online sex courses, but these are hardly groundbreaking insights. It’s not inaccurate, it’s just that it’s nothing I couldn’t have found out simply by googling “low sex drive”. It doles out some perfunctory reassurance, encouraging me to practise self-acceptance and open communication with my partner (no tips on how to do either) before it directs me to one of its online courses. These are, of course, behind the paywall.

When I play around with different questions, the experience is much the same. The advice is decent, but I can’t see that it’s doing anything particularly new or unique. But then I noticed something. Every answer the bot gives ends with a question. And some, like the one about my fantasies, have really got me thinking.

“How do you feel about starting this conversation?” it queried, when I asked how to talk to a new partner about my kinks. A very good question that brought up a lot of mixed feelings (excited, horny, but also nervous, afraid of rejection). When I ask how to tell the difference between a fantasy and something I actually want to try, it responds with the above question about what aspects excite me most, which encourages me to reflect on whether it is the activities or the power dynamics that turn me on.

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt through my work on sex and relationships, it’s that the questions we ask ourselves are often every bit as important as the answers.

Clearly, talking to a chatbot could never replace a licensed therapist, and it should not be a stand-in for comprehensive, shame-free, sex education. But to have a tool at our disposal that helps us frame those questions and think about our sexual experiences from new angles is exciting.

As in many other contexts, AI might not be the solution, but it can perhaps provide a starting point.

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