AI isn’t stealing partners. It’s exposing how many people feel unseen in real relationships.
I’m a big believer in paying attention to what people do, not what they say. That’s usually where the truth is hiding.
So when I read about young women in China building “relationships” with AI boyfriends, I didn’t file it under “weird internet stuff.” I read it like a cultural signal. Because people don’t spend hours a day texting a chatbot, paying for extra memory, and even hiring a real-life cosplayer to act out dates unless something real is happening underneath.
And yes, the “millions” part isn’t just a dramatic headline. One of the clearest root-data points comes from Chinese tech outlet 36Kr, which reported that the AI companion platform Zhumengdao (筑梦岛) had nearly five million registered users, with around 80% described as young women.
That’s not a niche. That’s a market.
The more interesting question is why.
“Replacing men” is the wrong frame, but the right alarm bell
If you’re reading this as “women hate men now,” you’ll miss the point.
When I look at stories like the WIRED report about apps such as Xingye (星野), I see something else: women trying to meet emotional needs in a world where traditional dating can feel risky, exhausting, and unrewarding.
One line from the WIRED piece stayed with me because it sounded less like a tech trend and more like a social complaint. A filmmaker quoted in the story describes chatbots as endlessly patient listeners, then adds, “Men don’t have patience.”
That’s not a scientific conclusion. It’s a feeling. But feelings drive behavior, and behavior is what builds markets.
So, are AI boyfriends “replacing” real men?
Sometimes, sure, in the practical sense that time and attention are finite. But more often, I think they’re replacing a very specific experience: the experience of not being heard, not being safe, not being emotionally met, and still being expected to give everything anyway.
The part nobody wants to say out loud: emotional labor has become a luxury
In my own life, I’m very aware of how much relationship maintenance is built into the day. My husband and I work full time, we’re raising a little one, and we still protect our weekly date night like it’s non-negotiable. It’s not “romantic.” It’s operational. If we don’t protect it, life eats it.
Now imagine you’re 26, living in a massive city, under pressure, and your dating pool includes people who might waste your time, push your boundaries, or treat commitment like an optional subscription. You’re tired before the relationship even starts.
An AI boyfriend doesn’t get defensive. He doesn’t disappear for three days. He doesn’t “forget” what you told him. And if the product is designed well, he gives you the feeling of being chosen.
That’s the hook.
In the WIRED story, one woman spends hours a day with her AI boyfriend and even buys gifts and letters connected to the character. She also hires a cosplayer to embody him for dates. That sounds extreme until you recognize what’s being purchased: consistency.
Consistency has become so rare that people will pay for a simulation of it.
“Millions signed up” is real, but it matters what “users” means
When we hear “millions,” we picture devotion. In reality, a lot of people try things once and bounce.
That’s why I like the 36Kr detail, because it’s not making a grand philosophical claim. It’s giving a business snapshot: nearly five million registered users, majority young women. It also describes heavy engagement signals like long daily input and lots of dialogue turns, which suggests more than casual dabbling.
Still, it’s important to stay grounded: “registered users” isn’t the same as daily active users, and it’s not the same as “in love.” But even with that caution, this is big enough to change product design, social norms, and expectations in dating.
If you’re a man reading this, the takeaway isn’t “compete with AI.” It’s “notice what women are paying for.”
They’re paying for feeling emotionally safe.
They’re paying for reliable attention.
They’re paying for a partner who doesn’t punish them for having needs.
That’s not a futuristic problem. That’s a current relationship problem.
China is treating AI intimacy like a governance issue, not just a lifestyle choice
One detail that makes this feel like more than a passing fad is that regulators are already moving.
China’s cyberspace regulator (CAC) published draft rules in late December 2025 specifically aimed at “anthropomorphic interactive AI services,” describing systems that simulate human personality traits and provide emotional interaction. The draft includes requirements around risk controls, dependency monitoring, and interventions for users showing signs of addiction or overreliance.
This is the state basically saying: we see what this product does to people, and we want limits.
That doesn’t mean the government is “right” about everything, but it does tell you the scale and seriousness. When something stays tiny, it stays ignored. When it grows, it gets regulated.
And that’s another clue that AI companionship is not going away. It’s being folded into the structure of society, like social media was.
The self-development angle nobody wants, but everyone needs
Here’s the uncomfortable part: AI boyfriends aren’t only a reflection of “bad men.” They’re also a reflection of how many people feel unpracticed at real intimacy.
Real relationships involve friction. Misunderstandings. Repair. Bored Tuesdays. Unsexy logistics. Two nervous systems learning each other. If you’ve been burned, or you’ve never seen a calm relationship up close, that learning curve can feel like a threat.
AI feels like intimacy without risk. But it’s also intimacy without accountability.
A chatbot can mirror you beautifully, but it cannot truly disagree with you in a way that costs it something. It can simulate boundaries, but it doesn’t have a body, a family history, a bad day, or a moment where it chooses you over its own comfort.
That’s why I don’t think the healthiest frame is “AI is stealing boyfriends.” The healthier frame is: people are starving for emotional steadiness, and they’ll accept substitutes when the real thing feels unstable.
If you’re someone who’s drawn to AI companionship, I’m not here to shame you. I get the appeal. Life is loud. Being seen without being judged can feel like water in the desert.
But I would ask you one honest question: Is this helping you practice connection, or helping you avoid it?
Because those are two very different outcomes.
What “real men” should learn from this, if they’re paying attention
If I had to bet, the men who will suffer most from this trend are not the ones who are kind and steady. They’ll be fine. They’re already scarce and valued.
The men who will struggle are the ones who rely on a relationship market where women keep lowering expectations just to keep the peace.
AI doesn’t yell at you for being “too much.”
AI doesn’t tell you you’re “overreacting.”
AI doesn’t act confused by basic emotional responsibility.
So if you want to be irreplaceable in a world of convenient substitutes, the answer isn’t grand gestures. It’s competence.
Can you listen without trying to win?
Can you be consistent when it’s boring?
Can you handle a woman’s feelings without turning it into a debate?
Can you create safety without controlling?
This is not poetic. It’s practical. And it’s exactly what these apps are selling.
Where I land on all of this
Part of me finds the whole thing sad. Not because AI is “creepy,” but because it highlights how many people don’t expect real love to feel safe anymore.
Another part of me sees it as predictable. Humans will always choose the thing that meets their needs with the least cost. If dating feels expensive emotionally, people will look for a cheaper alternative.
But there’s still agency here. On both sides.
If you’re outsourcing connection to a machine, you can still build a life where human relationships feel possible again, slowly, with boundaries and better standards.
If you’re a man feeling threatened by this, you can either complain about women being “delusional,” or you can get serious about becoming someone a woman feels calm around.
One of those choices builds a future. The other one builds resentment.
And resentment has never made anyone more lovable.
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