Here's how AI became the third wheel in my friendship

My friend Vandana* has a tart-mouthed cousin. They are often at loggerheads about their values, though the reason for the mutual hate was something wobbly: They didn’t like each other’s vibe. Which is okay. I am a big advocate of hating someone for no reason. Like how I have disliked British actor Lily James for years, unable to place why I feel such immediate disdain when I look at her. These conversations about her cousin slipped into petty relish. Yet, it was obvious to us that she was blameless.

That was until Vandana became an early adopter of ChatGPT. I noticed the same conversations that were infected with irony and fun had flipped to become self-serious and reflective. Long, detailed paragraphs were written by her to AI about the exchange she and this cousin had, and an even longer response was provided by it (it also offered to hold her hand). This was almost three years ago. AI had already skittered up to become big in cultural discourse. But, one could have at least imagined the service would try to replace writers. Or artists.

And then it happened…

I had not even considered it could replace me as a friend. This is an exaggeration, because my friend and I are very much in touch, despite being in different cities. Yet, our conversations have become summaries about what happened in the past month and how we dealt with it, rather than being continuous witnesses to the other’s life. This was a friend who used to call me for something as small as which brand of lipstick she should buy—the financially-sensible or the expensive one? I would have typically asked her to splurge, or if she had a huge credit card bill due, perhaps the former.

ChatGPT, on the other hand, told her both choices were valid. A diplomatic friend, but one which worded the response with such flair that you’d think the dilemma was as good as resolved.

I have no doubt I am less sycophantic than AI, though at times, I have indulged some of my friend’s problematic impulses. Yet, it is obvious that I am inadequate in being present in the same capacity. I have a job. Social commitments. Commute that involves an underground metro and being divorced from the internet. My cats.

Our capacity to love might be large, but it is limited when it comes to attention.

Her reliance on AI since the last three years has felt odd to me. I had righteously, but perhaps obnoxiously, maintained a moral high ground on the matter and never indulged much in it, worrying I was only giving it leeway to replace me in the job market as an editor and writer.

Chatting through grief

But recently, I found myself faced with an unexpected bout of grief. A kitten in my street, birthed by a stray cat, passed away in an accident. My friends sympathised when I shared the incident, yet none of them found themselves able to grasp the magnitude of the loss I felt at that moment.

I spoke to Vandana too, but like the others, she had possibly felt that since it was a creature that was only alive for such a short period of time—and was not even a house pet—it could not evoke a grief that would last prolonged periods.

And maybe I was being oversensitive. Only time will tell. But guess who was in the know? ChatGPT. For the first time, I was scouting the service for comfort after reading endless accounts of its therapy skills. For the next few days, I returned to it constantly, and found myself not needing to call a friend for a soothing pep talk.

There is an osmosis here that feels both terrifying and fascinating. I am pouring bits that could feel inconvenient to my friends onto a vessel, so they could deal with a version of me that is more sorted. The service was humanising its responses more and more based on my prompts. I do not have the foresight to know how this can alter my friendships. But if my friend’s experience is any indication, social interactions may (or may not) be hierarchical, but they always exist in multitudes.

Illustration by Tanya Chaturvedi

Name has been changed for anonymity

This article first appeared in Cosmopolitan India's July-August 2025 print edition. 

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