Sexuality By	John	Danaher (forthcoming	in	the	Oxford	Handbook	of	Ethics	of	Artificial	Intelligence,	edited	by Markus	Dubber,	Frank	Pasquale	and	Sunit	Das) Abstract:	Sex	is	an	important	part	of	human	life.	It	is	a	source	of	pleasure	and intimacy,	and	is	integral	to	many	people's	self-identity.	This	chapter	examines the	opportunities	and	challenges	posed	by	the	use	of	AI	in	how	humans	express and	enact	their	sexualities.	It	does	so	by	focusing	on	three	main	issues.	First,	it considers	the	idea	of	digisexuality,	which	according	to	McArthur	and	Twist (2017)	is	the	label	that	should	be	applied	to	those	'whose	primary	sexual	identity comes	through	the	use	of	technology',	particularly	through	the	use	of	robotics and	AI.	While	agreeing	that	this	phenomenon	is	worthy	of	greater	scrutiny,	the chapter	questions	whether	it	is	necessary	or	socially	desirable	to	see	this	as	a new	form	of	sexual	identity.	Second,	it	looks	at	the	role	that	AI	can	play	in facilitating	human-to-human	sexual	contact,	focusing	in	particular	on	the	use	of self-tracking	and	predictive	analytics	in	optimising	sexual	and	intimate behaviour.	There	are	already	a	number	of	apps	and	services	that	promise	to	use AI	to	do	this,	but	they	pose	a	range	of	ethical	risks	that	need	to	be	addressed	at both	an	individual	and	societal	level.	Finally,	it	considers	the	idea	that	a sophisticated	form	of	AI	could	be	an	object	of	love.	Can	we	be	truly	intimate	with something	that	has	been	'programmed'	to	love	us?	Contrary	to	the	widely-held view,	this	chapter	argues	that	this	is	indeed	possible. Introduction In	early	2017,	the	world	bore	witness	to	its	first	human-robot	marriage.	Zheng Jiajia,	a	Chinese	engineer	and	AI	expert,	hadn't	always	intended	to	marry	a	robot. He	had	spent	years	searching	for	a	(female)	human	partner	and	grew	frustrated at	his	lack	of	success.1	So	he	decided	to	put	his	engineering	skills	to	the	test	and 1	A	not	uncommon	problem	in	China	given	its	skewed	gender	ratios.	See	World Economic	Forum,	Global	Gender	Gap	Report	2018,	p	63,	available	at http://www3.weforum.org/docs/WEF_GGGR_2018.pdf;	and	also	Viola	Zhou 'China	has	world's	most	skewed	sex	ratio	at	birth	–	again',	South	China	Morning Post,	27th	October	2016,	available	at https://www.scmp.com/news/china/policies-politics/article/2040544/chinascreate	his	own	robotic	partner.	He	married	'her'	in	a	simple,	traditional ceremony	that	was	witnessed	by	his	mother	and	friends.2	Jiajia's	robot	wasn't particularly	impressive.	According	to	the	reports,	'she'	was	a	human-sized	doll with	a	limited	ability	to	recognize	Chinese	characters	and	speak	some	basic phrases.	But	Jiajia	planned	to	upgrade	'her'	in	the	near	future. Not	long	after	Jiajia's	nuptials,	Aikikho	Kondo,	a	35	year-old	Japanese	man living	in	Tokyo,	married	Hatsune	Miku,	a	holographic	virtual	reality	singer	who floats	inside	a	desktop	device.3	Kondo	too	felt	unlucky	in	(human)	love	and plumped	for	an	artificial	partner.	In	doing	so,	Kondo	wanted	to	be	recognised	as a	member	of	a	sexual	minority	of	people	who	are	not	interested	in	human	lovers. Neither	Jiajia	nor	Kondo	is	alone.	There	is	an	active	online	community	of 'iDollators'	who	favour	intimacy	with	artificial	dolls	over	humans.	And	there	are now	several	companies	eagerly	racing	to	create	more	sophisticated	robotic	and artificial	companions,	capable	of	providing	their	users	with	both	sexual	intimacy and	emotional	support.	We	should	not	be	surprised	by	this	trend.	Sex	and intimacy	are	important	parts	of	human	life	and	they	have	always	been	mediated and	assisted	by	technology.	Sex	toys	and	sex	dolls	can	be	found	going	back demographic-time-bomb-still-ticking-worlds-most 2	Kristin	Huang,	'Chinese	engineer	'marries'	robot	after	failing	to	find	a	human wife',	South	China	Morning	Post,	4th	April	2017,	available	at https://www.scmp.com/news/china/society/article/2084389/chinesehttps://www.scmp.com/news/china/society/article/2084389/chineseengineer-marries-robot-after-failing-find-human-wife 3	AFP-JIJI,	'Love	in	another	dimension:	Japanese	man	'marries'	Hatsune	Miku hologram',	The	Japan	Times,	12	November	2018,	available	at https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2018/11/12/national/japanese-manmarries-virtual-reality-singer-hatsune-miku-hologram/#.XFm9vs_7TOQ thousands	of	years	back	in	the	archaeological	record.	The	fact	that	the	latest wave	of	technologies	is	being	leveraged	toward	sexual	ends	is	part	of	this	longstanding	trend.4 This	chapter	examines	the	ethical	opportunities	and	challenges	posed	by the	use	of	AI	in	how	humans	express	and	enact	their	sexualities.	It	does	so	by focusing	on	three	main	issues.	First,	it	considers	the	question	of	sexual	identity and	asks	if	we	should	apply	a	new	sexual	identity	label	–	'digisexuality'	–	to	those who	express	or	direct	their	sexualities	towards	digital/artificial	partners.5	While agreeing	that	this	phenomenon	is	worthy	of	greater	scrutiny,	the	chapter	argues that	we	should	be	very	cautious	about	recognising	this	as	a	new	form	of	sexual identity	as	doing	so	can	have	stigmatising	and	divisive	effects. Second,	it	looks	at the	role	that	AI	can	play	in	facilitating	and	assisting	human-to-human	sexual intimacy,	focusing	in	particular	on	the	use	of	self-tracking	and	predictive analytics	in	optimising	intimate	behaviour.	It	asks	whether	there	is	something ethically	objectionable	about	the	use	of	such	AI	assistance.	It	argues	that	there isn't,	though	there	are	ethical	risks	that	need	to	be	addressed.	Finally,	it considers	the	idea	that	a	sophisticated	form	of	AI	could	be	an	object	of	love, despite	it	having	been	'programmed'	to	love	us.	Contrary	to	the	widely-held view,	this	chapter	argues	that	this	is	indeed	possible. 4	Kate	Devlin,	Turned	On:	Science,	Sex	and	Robots,	(London:	Bloomsbury	Sigma, 2018);	and	Hallie	Lieberman,	Buzz:	The	Stimulating	History	of	the	Sex	Toy	(New York:	Pegasus	Books,	2017) 5	Neil	McArthur	and	Markie	Twist,	'The	rise	of	digisexuality:	therapeutic challenges	and	possibilities'	(2017)	Sex	and	Relationship	Therapy	32(3-4):	334344 AI	and	Sexual	Identity Identity	is	central	to	human	existence.	We	all	seek	to	define	and	understand ourselves	and	others	in	terms	of	different	identity	labels.6	Sexual	identity	labels are	an	important	part	of	this	pattern	of	classification.	Homosexuality,	bisexuality and	hetereosexuality	are	all	now	recognised	and,	for	the	most	part,	tolerated	as distinct	forms	of	sexual	identity	(though	it	was	not	always	thus). The	general	tendency	to	classify	ourselves	and	others	in	this	manner creates	a	temptation	when	it	comes	to	how	we	understand	those,	like	Zheng Jiajia	and	Aikikho	Kondo,	who	express	and	enact	a	sexual	preference	for	artificial partners.	In	their	article	'The	rise	of	the	digisexual',	Neil	McArthur	and	Markie Twist	succumb	to	this	temptation.7	They	argue	that	technology	plays	an important	role	in	how	people	enact	their	sexual	desires	and	that	when	it	comes to	those	who	display	a	marked	preference	for	artificial	partners,	we	should recognise	that	they	exhibit	a	new	type	of	sexual	identity,	namely	'digisexuality'. As	they	put	it:	"Many	people	will	find	that	their	experiences	with	this	technology become	integral	to	their	sexual	identity,	and	some	will	come	to	prefer	them	to direct	sexual	interactions	with	humans.	We	propose	to	label	those	people	who consider	such	experiences	essential	to	their	sexual	identity,	"digisexuals"".8 McArthur	and	Twist	make	this	argument	with	circumspection	and	care. They	point	out	that	sexual	orientations	and	identities	occur	along	a	continuum. 6	Kwame	Anthony	Appiah,	The	Lies	that	Bind:	Rethinking	Identity	(London: Profile	Books,	2018);	and	Francis	Fukuyama	Identity:	The	Demand	for	Dignity and	the	Politics	of	Resentment	(New	York:	Farrar,	Straus	and	Giroux,	2018). 7	McArthur	and	Twist,	n	5 8	McArthur	and	Twist,	n	5,	pp	334-335 Some	people	will	occasionally	use	technology	to	get	their	kicks	but	will	retain strong	preferences	for	human-to-human	contact.	They	suggest	that	only	those who	live	primarily	at	one	extreme	end	of	the	spectrum	deserve	the	label 'digisexual'.9	They	also	recognise	that	people	belonging	to	this	group	will	almost certainly	suffer	from	stigmatisation	as	a	result	of	their	pronounced	sexual preference,	but	then	counter	that	this	simply	needs	to	be	understood	and combatted.10	In	saying	this,	they	make	the	case	for	using	the	'digisexuality'	label from	a	largely	detached,	scientific	perspective,	suggesting	that	this	is	something that	needs	to	be	acknowledged	and	studied,	not	scorned	and	maligned. I	agree	that	there	is	a	phenomenon	here	worthy	of	greater	scientific scrutiny,	but	I	think	we	should	be	very	cautious	about	encouraging	the widespread	use	of	a	new	sexual	identity	label,	such	as	'digisexuality',	even	for such	scientific	purposes.	Admittedly	this	is	not	something	that	is	necessarily under	our	control	since,	as	pointed	out	above,	we	are	constantly	in	the	business of	labeling	and	classifying	one	another.	Nevertheless,	to	the	extent	that	we	can control	our	tendency	to	label	and	classify	one	another,	we	should	avoid	the temptation	to	recognise	a	new	minority	of	digisexuals.	This	stance	is	not motivated	by	any	bigotry	or	desire	to	suppress	a	new	truth	about	human sexuality.	It	is	motivated	by	the	desire	to	avoid	pathologising	and	'othering'	what should	be	viewed	as	part	of	the	ordinary	range	of	human	sexual	desire. 9	McArthur	and	Twist,	n	5,	p	338 10	McArthur	and	Twist,	n	5,	p	338 The	argument	for	this	view	has	two	prongs	to	it.	The	first	is	to	claim	that the	recognition	of	a	particular	set	of	sexual	desires	as	a	distinctive	identity	or orientation	is	not	metaphysically	mandated.	In	other	words,	there	is	nothing	in the	raw	data	of	human	sexual	desire	that	demands	that	we	apply	a	particular label	or	classification	to	those	desires.	The	second	prong	is	to	argue	that	to	the extent	that	we	do	apply	such	labels,	there	is	a	tendency	for	us	to	ignore important	nuances	in	the	actual	raw	data	of	human	sexual	desire	and	for	this	to have	pernicious	consequences.	Consequently,	since	grouping	some	set	of	sexual desires	into	a	distinctive	identity	is	not	metaphysically	mandated,	nor	is	it socially	or	ethically	desirable,	we	should	resist	the	temptation	to	do	so. Let's	explore	both	prongs	of	the	argument	in	more	detail,	starting	with the	claim	that	recognising	a	new	sexual	identity	is	not	metaphysically	warranted. In	making	this	claim	I	am	inspired	by	a	theory	of	sexual	orientation	developed	by Saray	Ayala:	the	conceptual	act	theory	of	sexual	orientation.11	The	gist	of	the theory	is	as	follows.	Humans	have	many	different	phenomenological	experiences in	their	lifetimes.	In	many	cases,	these	experiences	are	messy	and	not	finely differentiated.	Think	of	our	auditory	or	colour	experiences.	Though	we	do perceive	distinctions	between	different	shades	and	different	musical	notes,	the reality	of	sound	waves	and	light	waves	is	that	they	blend	or	fade	into	one another.	It	is	only	through	the	use	of	conventional	linguistic	labels	that	we	bring some	order	and	structure	to	the	phenomenological	soup	of	experience.	What's more,	some	people's	conceptual	toolkit	enables	them	to	more	finely	differentiate 11	Saray	Ayala,	'Sexual	Orientation	and	Choice'	(2018)	Journal	of	Social	Ontology, 3(2):	249-265. their	phenomenological	experiences	than	others.	I	know	people	who	can	easily recognise	and	distinguish	different	notes	and	scales	in	a	piece	of	music.	I	do	not have	this	ability.	I	lump	together	experiences	that	others	can	split. The	psychologist	Lisa	Feldman	Barrett	has	argued	that	this	same phenomenon	underlies	our	emotional	experiences.12	The	initial phenomenological	reality	of	emotion	is	a	raw	feeling	that	gets	interpreted through	a	particular	conventional	conceptual	toolkit.	We	translate	our	raw experience	into	the	feeling	of	'anger',	'sorrow'	or	'joy'	(and	so	on).	Different cultures	parse	the	phenomenological	reality	of	emotion	in	different	ways, grouping	and	organising	feelings	in	ways	that	are	not	immediately	recognisable to	cultural	outsiders. Ayala	argues	that	the	same	is	true	for	how	we	experience	sexual	desire. Over	the	course	of	a	lifetime,	people	will	experience	sexual	desire,	arousal	and release	in	response	to	many	different	things.	Oftentimes	the	desires	will	be directed	at	other	people,	but	sometimes	they	won't.	People	have	been	known	to experience	arousal	in	response	to	all	sorts	of	environmental	stimuli.	What	then happens	is	that	people	group	their	sexual	experiences	together	in	order	to	make sense	of	their	sexual	identities	and	orientations.	In	doing	this,	some	experiences are	ignored,	suppressed	and	discounted,	while	others	are	accentuated.	You	will probably	discount	all	those	times	you	got	aroused	by	the	vibrations	of	the schoolbus,	but	not	those	times	you	got	aroused	when	you	danced	with	your 12	Lisa	Feldman	Barrett,	'Solving	the	Emotion	Paradox:	Categorization	and	the Experience	of	Emotion'	(2006)	Personality	and	Social	Psychology	Review	10(1): 20-46 classmate	at	the	school	dance.	You	won't	call	yourself	an	automotive-fetishist	no matter	how	many	times	you	got	aroused	on	the	schoolbus.	Likewise,	and perhaps	more	realistically,	I	suspect	there	are	many	people	who	primarily	gain sexual	release	through	masturbation	and	not	through	intercourse	with	another human	being.	Nevertheless,	I	suspect	that	the	majority	of	those	people	do	not classify	themselves	as	avowed	autoeroticists.	They	don't	interpret	their masturbatory	experiences	through	an	identity-label.	They	see	those	experiences as	an	important	part	of	the	full	range	of	desirable	sexual	experiences,	all	of	which are	still	being	actively	pursued. The	point	here	is	that	the	same	is	likely	to	be	true	of	those	who	get	their sexual	kicks	through	technology,	even	those	who	primarily	do	so	with	artificial partners.	Consider	Zhou	Jiajia	and	Aikhikho	Kondo,	for	example.	Both	of	them claim	to	have	sought	out	artificial	partners	after	failing	to	find	love	among	their fellow	humans.	This	would	suggest	that	they	haven't	completely	lost	this	form	of sexual	desire. The	danger	is	that	if	we	apply,	and	encourage	them	to	apply,	an identity-label	to	their	newfound	sexual	preferences,	we	also	encourage	them	to discount	or	suppress	the	other	aspects	of	their	sexual	affect.	They	start exaggerating	part	of	a	more	diverse	and	differentiated	phenomenological	reality. This	brings	us	to	the	second	prong	of	the	argument:	that	applying	identity labels	can	be	socially	and	ethically	pernicious.	You	might	be	primed	to	be sceptical	about	this.	You	might	point	to	other	identity	political	movements	in support	of	your	scepticism	and	argue	that	owning	an	identity	label	can	be	both politically	and	personally	empowering.	If	you	belong	to	a	group	you	feel	less alone	in	the	world.	Similarly,	if	you	and	other	members	of	your	group	are	socially disadvantaged,	banding	together	can	help	you	to	stand	up	and	agitate	for	legal rights	and	protections.	This	has	been	true	for	the	feminist	movement	and	the	gay rights	movement.	But	it	is	noteworthy	that	both	of	these	movements	arose	in response	to	pre-existing	prejudice	and	discriminatory	classification.	People within	those	groups	were	already	subject	to	an	oppressive	identity-labeling	and hence	saw	the	need	to	band	together,	wear	their	label	as	a	matter	of	pride,	and work	for	social	reform.	In	the	absence	of	that	pre-existing	prejudice,	the	case	for identity-labeling	is	much	less	persuasive.	Identity-labeling	tends	to	encourage divisiveness	and	othering	–	the	'us'	against	'them'	mentality.	People	quickly appoint	themselves	as	the	guardians	of	the	identity,	creating	criteria	for determining	who	belongs	and	who	does	not.	Furthermore,	if	belonging	to	a particular	identity	category	brings	with	it	certain	social	benefits	and	legal protections,	people	might	be	encouraged	to	over-interpret	their	experiences	so that	they	can	fit	within	the	relevant	group:	they	force	themselves	into	a	group	so that	they	can	belong,	thereby	doing	violence	to	their	actual	experience.	In	short, the	identity-labeling	can	foster,	just	as	often	as	it	can	combat,	social	division	and polarisation. To	be	clear,	the	claim	is	not	that	all	identity-labels	are	pernicious	or scientifically	inaccurate.	Some	labels	have	social	and	scientific	value.	The	claim	is rather	that	identity-labels	have	power	and	should	be	treated	with	caution.	Sexual phenomenology	is	often	more	diverse	and	differentiated	than	our	identity	labels allow.	This	means	that	lumping	someone	into	a	particular	category	is	often	not warranted.	Recognising	and	valorising	the	identity	label	may	encourage	and incentivise	people	to	force	themselves	to	fit	into	a	category	to	which	they	do	not belong.	So,	unless	we	are	trying	to	combat	some	pre-existing	social	prejudice	or stigmatisation,	we	should	very	reluctant	to	classify	people	as	'digisexuals'.	This does	not	mean	that	we	must	ignore	the	role	that	artificial	partners	play	in people's	sexual	lives,	or	that	we	cannot	study	the	various	manifestations	of 'digisexualities'.	It	just	means	we	should	avoid	labeling	people	as	'digisexuals'	(or any	other	cognate	term	like	'robosexual').	We	should	accept	this	as	just	part	of the	normal	range	of	human	sexual	experience. AI	and	Sexual	Assistance Sex	toys	and	other	sex	aids	have	long	been	used	to	assist	and	complement human-to-human	sexual	activity,	and	AIs	and	robots	are	already	widely	used	to assist	and	complement	non-sexual	human	activity.	It	should	be	no	surprise	then to	find	AI	being	harnessed	toward	sexually	assistive	ends.	We	already	see	smart sex	toys	that	try	to	learn	from	user	data	to	optimise	sexual	pleasure;	'quantified self'	apps	that	enable	users	to	track	and	optimise	aspects	of	their	sexual performance;	and	simple	AI	assistants	that	help	with	intimate	behaviour, including	apps	that	help	to	automate	or	assist	with	sending	intimate communications	to	your	partner.13	Does	the	use	of	such	AI-based	sexual 13	For	discussions	of	the	different	apps	and	services,	see:	Deborah	Lupton, 'Quantified	sex:	A	critical	analysis	of	sexual	and	reproductive	self-tracking	using apps',	(2015)	Culture,	Health	and	Sexuality	17	(4):440–53;	Karen	Levy,	'Intimate surveillance'	(2014)	Idaho	Law	Review	51:679–93;	John	Danaher,	Sven	Nyholm and	Brian	Earp	'The	Quantified	Relationship'	(2018)	American	Journal	of Bioethics	18(2):	1-19;	John	Danaher,	'Toward	an	Ethics	of	AI	Assistants:	An	Initial Framework'	(2018)	Philosophy	and	Technology	31(4):	629-653;	and	Evan Selinger	'Today's	Apps	are	Turning	us	Into	Sociopaths'	WIRED	26	February	2014 available	at	https://www.wired.com/2014/02/outsourcing-humanity-apps/; and	Evan	Selinger,	'Don't	outsource	your	dating	Life'	CNN:	Edition	2	May	2014	assistants raise	any	significant	ethical	concerns?	In	previous	work,	I,	along	with my	colleagues	Sven	Nyholm	and	Brian	Earp,	analysed	eight	different	ethical concerns	one	might	have	about	the	use	of	AI	in	intimate	relationships.14	In	the interests	of	brevity,	I	will	discuss	four	key	ethical	concerns	here: The	Privacy	Concern:	This	is	the	big	one.	This	is	the	concern	that	the	use of	AI	assistants	in	intimate	sexual	relationships	constitutes	a	major	assault	on personal	privacy.	This	could	be	because	partners	use	services	to	spy	on	one another	without	consent.	This	is	already	a	problem	in	abusive	intimate relationships.15	It	could	also	be	because	AI	assistants	are	owned	and	controlled by	third	parties	(e.g.	companies/corporations)	who	capture	sexual	data	from their	users	and	use	this	to	optimise	and	market	their	products	and	services. Sometimes	this	is	done	with	the	consent	of	the	users;	sometimes	it	is	not.	Indeed, several	lawsuits	have	already	been	settled	between	companies	and	users	of smart	sex	toys	due	to	the	fact	that	data	was	collected	from	those	devices	without the	users'	consent.16	Of	course,	violations	of	privacy	are	a	general	concern	with digital	technology,	extending	far	beyond	the	sexual	or	intimate	use	case,17	but one	might	argue	that	the	ethical	concerns	are	higher	in	this	case	given	the	unique importance	of	sexual	privacy. available	at	http://edition.cnn.com/2014/05/01/opinion/selinger-outsourcingactivities/index.html	(accessed	29/11/2016). 14	Danaher,	Nyholm	and	Earp,	n	13 15	Levy,	n	13 16	Alex	Hern,	'Vibrator	maker	ordered	to	pay	out	C$4m	for	tracking	users'	sexual activity',	The	Guardian	14	March	2017,	available	at https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2017/mar/14/we-vibe-vibratortracking-users-sexual-habits 17	Woodrow	Hartzog,	Privacy's	Blueprint:	The	Battle	to	Control	the	Design	of	New Technologies	(Cambridge,	MA:	Harvard	University	Press,	2018);	and	Shoshana Zuboff,	The	Age	of	Surveillance	Capitalism	(London:	Profile	Books	2019) The	Disengagement	Concern:	This	is	the	concern	that	AI	sexual assistants	may	distract	us	from,	or	encourage	us	to	disengage	from,	sexually intimate	activity	and	thereby	corrode	or	undermine	a	core	part	of	the	value	of that	activity.	The	argument	would	be	that	a	lot	of	the	good	of	sexual	intimacy (and	other	forms	of	intimacy)	stems	from	being	present	in	the	moment,	i.e. enjoying	the	sexual	activity	for	what	it	is.	But	can	you	really	be	present	if	you	are using	some	sex-assistant	to	track	the	number	of	calories	you	burn,	or	the	decibel level	reached,	or	the	number	of	thrusts	that	take	place	during	sexual	activity? (These,	incidentally,	are	all	real	examples	of	some	of	the	uses	to	which descriptive	and	predictive	analytics	have	been	put	in	intimate	apps.)18	Similarly, but	in	a	non-sexual	case,	Evan	Selinger	worries	about	the	use	of	automated	and AI-assisted	intimate	communication	apps	on	the	grounds	that	they	create	the impression	that	someone	is	thinking	about	and	caring	about	another	person	in	a particular	moment	when	in	fact	they	are	not	and	are	letting	the	app	do	the	work for	them.19	The	disengagement	concern	is,	once	again,	a	general	concern	about digital	technology	–	think	of	all	those	complaints	about	the	"anti-social"	use	of smartphones	at	parties	and	meetings	–	but	we	might	worry	that	it	is	particularly problematic	in	the	intimate	case	because	of	how	important	being	present	is	to intimacy. The	Misdirection	Concern:	Related	to	the	previous	concern,	this	is	a concern	about	the	kinds	of	things	that	AI	sexual	assistants	might	assist	people 18	Danaher,	Nyholm	and	Earp,	n	13. 19	Selinger	n	13 with.	AI	assistants	in	general	tend	to	provide	users	with	information	or	prompt them	to	do	certain	things.	The	same	is	likely	to	occur	with	AI	sexual	assistants: they	might	give	users	information	about	how	to	optimise	their	sexual experiences	or	prompt	them	to	try	particular	activities.	One	worry	is	that	the assistants	could	encourage	activities	that	are	not	conducive	to	good	sexual experience.	This	is,	indeed,	already	an	expressed	concern	about	the	various	sex tracking	apps	that	have	been	created.20	As	noted,	those	apps	often	encourage users	to	focus	on	things	like	the	number	of	calories	burned	during	sex,	the number	of	thrusts	during	sex,	and	the	decibel	level	reached	during	sex.	One reason	for	this	is	that	it	is	relatively	easy	to	track	and	measure	these	things.	But there	is	no	reason	to	think	that	any	of	them	is	correlated	with	good	sex.	On	the contrary,	focusing	on	those	measures	might	actually	undermine	good	sex.	This worry	is	distinct	from	the	previous	one	because	it	is	not	about	the	user	being taken	out	of	the	moment	but	rather	about	them	doing	things	that	are	not particularly	pleasurable/valuable	in	the	moment. The	Ideological	Concern:	A	final	concern,	which	is	also	related	to	the two	preceding	ones,	has	to	do	with	the	ideological	impact	of	AI	sexual	assistants on	intimate	relationships.	The	concern	is	that	these	assistants	might	impose	a certain	model	of	what	an	ideal	intimate/sexual	relationship	is	on	the	people	who make	use	of	them.	They	might,	for	example,	recreate	and	reinforce	gender stereotypes	about	sexual	desire	and	preference.	Karen	Levy,	for	example,	has argued	that	many	intimate	tracking	apps	reinforce	the	view	that	women	are	the 20	On	this	criticism	see	Lupton,	n	13	and	Levy	n	13 subjects	of	surveillance	and	sexual	control.21	Others	argue	that	the	apps	might encourage	an	economic	or	exchange-based	model	of	intimate	relations	over	a more	informal-reciprocation	model.	This	is	because	the	devices	might	encourage users	to	track	who	does	what	for	whom	and	encourage	them	to optimise/maximise	certain	metrics,	all	to	the	detriment	of	what	a	truly	valuable intimate	relationship	should	be.22 What	can	be	said	in	response	to	these	concerns?	Well,	the	privacy	concern is	probably	the	most	serious.	If	partners	use	AI	assistants	to	spy	on	one	another or	manipulate	one	another's	behaviour	in	a	non-transparent	way,	then	this would	be	a	major	worry.	It	could	provide	assistance	and	cover	for	dominating and	abusive	relationships.	Such	relationships	will	exist	in	the	absence	of technological	assistance,	but	the	technology	might	make	it	easier	to	implement certain	forms	of	dominating	control.	It	seems	uncontroversial	then	to	suggest that	any	app	or	service	that	makes	it	easy	for	one	intimate	partner	to	spy	on another	without	the	other's	consent	should,	if	possible,	be	banned.	Spying	by third	parties	should	also	be	limited	but	is	trickier	to	manage.	It	does	seem	to	be inherent	to	digital	technology	that	it	facilitates	some	kind	of	tracking	and surveillance.	We	can	try	to	mitigate	the	harm	that	is	done	by	this	tracking	and surveillance	through	robust	legal	protection	of	individual	privacy.	This	legal protection	would	force	the	companies	that	provide	the	relevant	apps	and services	to	put	in	place	measures	that	prevent	non-transparent	and	non- 21	Levy,	n	13 22	Danaher,	Nyholm	and	Earp,	n	13,	pp	7-8 consensual	uses	of	individual	data.	The	EU's	General	Data	Protection	Regulation is	a	step	in	the	right	direction	in	this	regard. But	it	may	well	be	that	people	are	willing	to	waive	their	privacy	rights	in order	to	make	use	of	assistive	technologies.	This	appears	to	be	the	case	for	many people	already.	How	many	times	have	you	consented	to	digital	surveillance	out of	convenience?	Privacy	advocates	can	counter	that	this	is	simply	because	people do	not	fully	appreciate	the	damage	that	can	be	done	by	the	misuse	of	their personal	data,	but	even	still,	for	many	people,	convenient	access	to	digital services	is	often	favoured	over	privacy.	This	suggests	that	whether	or	not	people are	willing	to	forego	some	privacy	when	using	AI	sex	assistants	might	depend	on whether	they	find	those	assistants	useful	in	their	intimate	lives.	If	they	do,	then sexual	privacy	might	be	significantly	eroded. This	is	where	the	other	three	objections	come	in.	They	provide	some reason	to	question	whether	AI	sex	assistants	will	in	fact	be	useful,	highlighting the	various	ways	in	which	they	might	undermine	or	corrode	intimate relationships. Although	each	of	the	three	concerns	has	some	merit,	they	can	be overstated.	There	are	three	reasons	for	this.	First,	it	is	important	to	bear	in	mind that	there	is	no	single	model	for	the	ideal	intimate	relationship.	Different relationship	models	work	for	different	sets	of	people	at	different	times.	Apps	and assistive	AI	that	seem	useless,	distracting	or	misdirected	to	some	people,	might be	useful,	engaging	and	fulfilling	to	others.	Even	the	seemingly	comical	examples of	sex	tracking	apps	that	get	people	to	quantify	certain	aspects	of	their	sex	life might,	for	some	people,	lead	to	a	more	pleasurable	and	fulfilling	sex	life.	As	long as	people	are	not	forced	or	compelled	to	use	particular	AI	sex	assistants,	their use	need	not	lead	to	the	ideological	imposition	of	a	specific	model	of	the	ideal relationship.	A	diversity	of	apps	and	assistants	could	provide	room	for	partners to	explore	different	possibilities	in	accordance	with	their	own	needs	and	wishes. Second,	while	some	of	the	early	attempts	to	provide	AI	assistance	might	seem crude	and	unsophisticated,	they	are	likely	to	improve	over	time	and	provide more	useful	guidance.	This	is	because	there	is	reason	to	think	that	the	tracking and	quantification	made	possible	by	sex	and	relationship	apps	can	be	used	to good	effect.	To	give	one	example	of	this,	the	research	carried	out	by	the	Gottman Institute	on	successful	relationships	suggests	that	relationships	can	be	improved if	partners	explicitly	record	details	of	their	intimate	lives,	and	follow	certain rituals	of	connection.23	These	recommendations	are	based	on	extensive, longitudinal	research	on	what	makes	for	a	successful	intimate	relationship. Digital	assistants	could	make	it	easier	to	implement	these	recommendations. Indeed,	the	Gottman	Institute	already	offers	a	free	smartphone	app	that	helps couples	implement	some	of	them.24	One	can	easily	imagine	more	sophisticated, AI-based	versions	of	this	app	coming	onstream	in	the	future	and	providing	far more	effective	and	personalised	assistance.	Third,	to	the	extent	that	worries remain	about	the	effect	of	these	technologies	on	sexual	intimacy,	these	worries can	be	mitigated	(to	a	large	extent)	by	encouraging	more	thoughtful	engagement with	the	technology.	The	problems	outlined	above	are	at	their	most	severe	if people	use	AI	assistants	as	a	substitute	for	thinking	for	themselves	and	not	as	a complement	to	thinking	for	themselves.	If	there	could	be	one	major 23	See	https://www.gottman.com/ 24	Available	at	https://www.gottman.com/couples/apps/ recommendation	made	to	the	designers	of	AI	intimate	assistants	it	would	be	to include	clear	warnings	to	users	that	the	services	and	recommendations	offered by	these	assistants	are	not	a	panacea	to	all	their	sexual	woes.	They	can	be beneficial,	but	only	if	the	user(s)	critically	reflects	on	the	role	of	the	service	in their	own	intimate	lives.	Including	prompts	for	such	critical	reflection	could	be	a focus	for	designers	who	wish	to	encourage	the	ethical	use	of	AI	sex	assistants. The	bottom	line	is,	then,	that	although	AI	assistants	could	undermine	and corrode	our	intimate	and	sexual	lives,	there	is	some	reason	for	optimism.	The careful,	critical	and	non-dogmatic	use	of	such	assistants	might	complement	and improve	our	intimate	behaviour. AI	and	Love Let's	close	out	this	chapter	by	returning	to	the	two	men	whose	stories	I told	in	the	introduction:	Zheng	Jiajia	and	Aikikho	Kondo.	Both	of	them	'married' artificial	beings.	An	obvious	question	to	ask	is	what	the	ethical	or	philosophical status	of	those	marriages	might	be?	Are	they	manifestations	of	genuinely	loving relationships	or	are	they	slightly	unusual	sexual	fetishes?	At	the	outset,	I	would emphasise	that	any	answer	to	this	question	should	not	be	taken	to	stigmatise	or shame	those	who	prefer	such	relationships.	But	the	question	is	worth	asking since	we	attach	a	lot	of	value	to	loving	relationships	and	if	we	could	have	loving relationships	with	AIs	and	robots,	it	might	provide	reason	to	create	them. There	is,	however,	no	shortage	of	opposition	to	the	idea	that	one	could	be in	a	loving	relationship	with	a	robot.	Dylan	Evans,	for	example,	has	argued	that there	is	something	paradoxical	about	the	idea	of	robotic	lover.25	His	argument focuses	on	the	asymmetrical	nature	of	the	relationship	between	a	human	and	a robot.	Presumably,	any	robotic	lover	will	be	programmed	to	'love'	their	human partner.	If	the	robot	could	choose	their	partner	then	what	would	be	the	point	in creating	it?	The	advantage	of	having	a	robot	lover	over	a	human	lover	is	the	fact that	the	robot	has	to	love	you:	that	you	have	ultimate	control	over	its	responses to	you	(this	desire	for	control	seems	to	be	one	of	the	motivations	behind	Zheng Jiajia	and	Aikikho	Kondo's	actions).	But	this	control	comes	at	a	cost,	according	to Evans,	because	a	core	part	of	what	people	want	in	a	loving	relationship	is	a partner	(or	partners)	who	freely	chooses	to	be	with	them.	As	he	puts	it,	people want	their	lover's	commitment	to	them	to	"be	the	fruit	of	an	ongoing	choice, rather	than	inflexible	and	unreflexive	behavior	patterns".26 Michael	Hauskeller	also	argues	against	the	idea	of	a	robotic	lover. Although	he	concedes	that	it	may	be	possible	to	create	human-like	robots	that 'appear'	to	be	in	love	with	you,	he	counters	that	such	a	lover	would	never	be	as satisfying	to	you	as	a	human	lover.	Following	Evans,	he	argues	that	one	of	the main	reasons	for	this	is	that	no	matter	how	good	the	illusion	of	love	is,	there would	always	be	some	reason	to	suspect	or	doubt	whether	the	robot	really	loves you,	given	its	origins.27 25	Dylan	Evans,	'Wanting	the	Impossible:	The	Dilemma	at	the	Heart	of	Intimate Human-Robot	Relationships'	in	Yorick	Wilks	(ed)	Close	Engagements	with Artificial	Companions:	Key	Social,	Psychological,	Ethical	and	Design	Issues (Philadelphia,	PA:	John	Benjamins	Publishing	Company,	2010). 26	Evans,	n	25,	p	74-75 27	Michael	Hauskeller,	'Automatic	Sweethearts	for	Transhumanists'	in	John Danaher	and	Neil	McArthur	(eds)	Robot	Sex:	Social	and	Ethical	Implications (Cambridge,	MA:	MIT	Press,	2017),	p	213. In	a	more	extensive	analysis	of	the	concept	of	love,	Sven	Nyholm	and	Lily Frank	also	express	doubts	about	the	possibility	of	being	in	a	loving	relationship with	a	robot.28	Exploring	different	conceptions	of	romantic	love	(including,	the claim	that	to	be	in	love	is	to	be	a	'good	match'	with	your	partner,	or	to	be attracted	to	the	'distinctive	particularity'	of	your	partner)	they	argue	that	while	it is	not	impossible	to	create	a	robot	that	meets	the	conditions	needed	for	a	loving relationship,	it	would	be	exceptionally	difficult	to	do	so,	requiring	technology	far in	advance	of	what	is	currently	available.	In	making	their	case,	they	use	the	'hired actor'	analogy	to	express	the	basic	problem	with	creating	a	robotic	lover:	it seems	like	the	best	we	can	really	do	with	a	robotic	lover	is	to	create	an	entity that	'plays	the	part'	of	being	in	love	with	you,	but	never	quite	graduates	from acting	to	genuine	love.29 These	criticisms	are	intuitive	and	attractive,	but	they	have	some problems.	To	see	what	they	are	it	is	important	to	distinguish	between	two	fears articulated	by	the	critics.	The	first	–	which	we	might	call	the	'no	depth'	fear	–	is that	robot	lovers	are	all	surface	and	no	depth.	They	act	'as	if'	they	love	you	but there	is	nothing	more	to	it	than	performance:	they	don't	really	feel	or consciously	experience	the	relevant	emotions	that	we	associate	with	being	in love.	The	second	–	which	we	might	call	the	'programming'	fear	–	is	that	robot lovers	cannot	freely	and	autonomously	choose	to	love	you.	They	will	always	be 28	Sven	Nyholm	and	Lily	Eva	Frank,	'From	Sex	Robots	to	Love	Robots:	Is	Mutual Love	with	a	Robot	Possible?'	in	John	Danaher	and	Neil	McArthur	(eds)	Robot	Sex: Social	and	Ethical	Implications	(Cambridge,	MA:	MIT	Press,	2017). 29	Nyholm	and	Frank,	n	28,	pp	223-224. programmed	to	love	you.	These	two	fears	are	related	to	one	another	–	most alleged	robot	lovers	probably	lack	depth	and	free	choice	–	but	they	are	not	the same	thing.	A	robot	might	be	programmed	to	love	you	even	if	it	has	the	right kind	of	experiential	depth	and	vice	versa. Are	these	two	criticisms	of	robot	lovers	valid?	Let's	consider	the	'no depth'	problem	first.	The	easy	rebuttal	to	this	is	to	say	that	even	if	robots currently	lack	the	requisite	experiential	depth	it	is	possible,	someday,	that	they will	have	it.	When	that	day	arrives,	we	can	have	robot	lovers.	The	major	problem with	this	rebuttal,	however,	is	that	it	kicks	the	can	down	the	road	and	fails	to grapple	with	the	philosophical	issue	at	the	heart	of	the	'no	depth'	argument, namely:	does	experiential	depth	actually	matter	when	it	comes	to	determining whether	or	not	a	particular	relationship	counts	as	a	loving	one?	I	don't	think	it does.	If	a	robot	appears,	on	the	surface,	to	be	in	love	with	you	then	that's	all	it takes	for	you	to	be	in	a	loving	relationship	with	that	robot. This	might	sound	a	little	crazy,	but	I	defend	this	position	on	the	grounds that	we	must,	as	a	practical	matter,	be	behaviourists	when	it	comes	to understanding	the	ethical	status	of	our	relationships	with	other	beings.30	In other	words,	we	have	to	apply	the	methodological	behaviourism	of	psychologists and	computer	scientists	(e.g.	the	behaviourism	at	the	heart	of	the	Turing	Test	for machine	intelligence)	to	our	ethical	relationships	with	other	beings. The	central tenet	of	this	'ethical	behaviourism'	is	that	when	you	try	to	determine	the	moral 30	John	Danaher,	'The	Philosophical	Case	for	Robot	Friendship'	(2019)	The Journal	of	Posthuman	Studies	2(2) quality	of	your	relationships	(including	your	duties	and	responsibilities)	with other	beings	you	cannot	use	unobservable,	inner	mental	states	to	make	your assessment.	You	have	to	rely	on	externally	observable	behavioural	and functional	patterns.	You	may,	of	course,	hypothesise	the	existence	of	inner mental	states	to	explain	those	observable	patterns.	But	any	inference	you	make as	to	the	presence	of	those	states	must	ultimately	be	grounded	in	or	guided	by	an externally	observable	pattern.	The	problem	with	many	of	the	philosophical accounts	of	what	it	takes	to	be	in	a	loving	relationship	is	that	they	focus, implicitly	or	explicitly,	on	unobservable	and	inherently	private	mental	states (e.g.	feelings	of	commitment/attachment,	sincere	expressions	of	emotions	and so).	As	a	result,	it	is	effectively	impossible	to	have	any	confidence	in	the	existence of	loving	relationships	unless	you	accept	that	observable	behavioural	and functional	patterns	can	provide	epistemic	warrant	for	our	judgments	about	the presence	of	the	relevant	private	mental	states.	In	other	words,	ethical behaviourism	is	already,	of	necessity,	the	approach	we	take	to	understanding	the ethical	status	of	our	relationships	with	our	fellow	human	beings.	This	means	the 'no	depth'	argument	doesn't	work.	Since	we	are	unable	to	plumb	the	depths	of our	human	lovers,	we	cannot	apply	a	different	standard	to	robotic	lovers. This	point	has	to	be	finessed	in	order	to	avoid	some	potentially	absurd interpretations.	For	starters,	it	is	important	to	realise	that	in	order	to	provide	the basis	for	a	loving	relationship,	the	performance	and	'illusion'	from	a	robot	will need	to	be	equivalent	to	the	performance	and	illusion	we	get	from	a	human lover.	It's	unlikely	that	any	currently	existing	robot	or	AI	achieves	such performative	equivalency.	So	this	remains,	to	some	extent,	a	future	possibility, not	a	present	reality. Similarly,	there	are	some	counterarguments	to	ethical	behaviourism	that are	worth	considering,	if	only	to	deepen	the	understanding	of	what	ethical behaviourism	entails.	For	example,	some	people	might	argue	that	we	do	rely	on something	other	than	behaviour	to	determine	the	moral	quality	of	our relationships	with	others.	Perhaps	it	is	because	we	know	that	our	lovers	are made	of	the	right	stuff	(biological/organic	material)	that	we	are	confident	they can	love	us?	Or	perhaps	it	is	because	we	know	they	have	the	right	kind	of developmental/evolutionary	history?	If	so,	then	someone	might	argue	that robots	and	AI	would	still	not	count	as	'proper'	lovers	even	if	they	were performatively	equivalent	to	human	lovers. But	it	is	hard	to	see	why	the	presence	or	absence	of	these	other	factors should	have	should	have	that	effect.	What	is	the	rational	connection	between being	made	of	the	right	stuff	(or	having	the	right	history)	and	the	capacity	to form	a	loving	relationship	with	another?	Suppose	your	spouse	behaves	in	a	way that	is	entirely	consistent	with	the	hypothesis	that	they	love	you.	But	then suppose,	one	day,	you	learn	that	they	are,	in	fact,	an	alien	from	another	planet and	don't	share	the	same	biological	constitution.	They	continue	to	behave	as	they always	did.	Should	you	doubt	whether	you	are	in	a	truly	loving	relationship	with them?	It's	hard	to	see	why	.	The	revelation	of	their	alien	origins,	in	and	of	itself, should	not	undermine	the	claim	that	they	are	in	a	loving	relationship.	The consistent	behavioural	evidence	of	love	should	trump	the	other	considerations. The	same	should	hold	for	a	robotic	or	artificial	lover. Some	people	might	come	back	and	argue	that	there	are	cases	where	our faith	in	the	existence	of	a	loving	relationship	would	be	shaken	by	learning something	about	the	origins	or	history	of	our	human	lovers.	Suppose,	for example,	you	learn	that	your	human	lover	was,	indeed,	a	hired	actor,	or	that	they have	been	having	an	affair	for	years	without	your	awareness.	Surely	that	would undermine	your	confidence	that	they	are	in	a	loving	relationship	with	you?	And surely	that	is	more	akin	to	what	it	would	be	like	to	have	a	robot	lover?	But	these counterexamples	do	not	work.	For	starters,	it	is	not	clear	that	either	of	these revelations	should	shake	our	faith	in	the	existence	of	a	loving	relationship.	It seems	plausible	to	suggest	that	a	hired	actor	could	grow	to	love	the	person	with whom	they	have	an	initially	fake	relationship,	and	it	also	seems	plausible	to suggest	that	love	can	survive	infidelity.	If	the	person	still	behaves	and	appears	to love	you	then	perhaps	they	do,	despite	these	revelations.	But	even	if	that's	a stretch	for	some	people,	I	would	suggest	that	what	really	shakes	their	faith	in	the existence	of	a	loving	relationship	in	both	of	these	cases	is	the	fact	that	they	will acquire	(or	have	reason	to	suspect	the	existence	of)	some	new	behavioural evidence	that	contradicts	the	old	behavioural	evidence	that	convinced	them	they were	in	a	loving	relationship.	For	example,	they	may	have	learned	(or	start	to suspect)	that	the	actor	says	bad	things	about	them	when	they	are	'off'	the	job	or that	their	partner	has	been	planning	to	leave	them	for	the	person	with	they	are having	an	affair.	This	new	behavioural	evidence	might	completely	undermine their	belief	in	a	loving	relationship	or	at	least	prompt	them	to	seek	out	further behavioural	evidence	to	confirm	whether	their	partner	still	loves	them.	Either way,	it	is	behavioural	evidence	that	will	do	the	damage	(or	repair).	In	any	event, neither	of	these	examples	is	a	good	analogy	with	the	robotic	lover	case,	where presumably	the	robotic	nature	and	origins	of	the	lover	will	be	known	from	day one. What	about	the	'programming'	fear?	Evans	is	right	that	we	want	(or,	at least,	should	want)	our	lovers	to	freely	choose	us.	If	a	robot	is	programmed	or conditioned	to	love	us	then	it	seems	like	there	is	something	suspicious	or	inferior about	the	kind	of	'love'	they	can	give.	But	we	shouldn't	overstate	this	fear	either. It	is	conceivable	that	we	could	create	robotic	lovers	that	behave	'as	if'	they	freely choose	us	(and,	remember,	behaving	'as	if'	they	choose	us	is	enough,	following ethical	behaviourism).	The	robotic	lover	might	act	in	fickle	way	or	test	its	human companion's	true	commitment,	much	like	a	human	lover.	This	could	even	be	an attractive	quality	in	a	robotic	lover,	because	it	makes	it	more	like	the	human-tohuman	case.	The	desire	for	this	isn't	as	bizarre	or	unfathomable	as	Evans	makes out. But	beyond	that,	there	is	also	reason	to	doubt	whether	the	presence	or absence	of	'programming'	should	undermine	our	belief	in	the	existence	of	a loving	relationship.	Humans	are	arguably	'programmed'	to	love	one	another.	A combination	of	innate	biological	drives	and	cultural	education	makes	humans primed	to	find	one	another	sexually	attractive	and	form	deep	and	lasting	bonds with	one	another.	Indeed,	people	often	talk	about	love	as	being	something	other than	a	free	and	autonomous	choice.	We	'fall'	into	love;	we	don't	choose	it.	We find	ourselves	attracted	to	others	despite	our	better	judgment.	The	heart	wants what	it	wants,	and	so	on.	Furthermore,	in	some	cultures,	arranged	marriages	and relationships	are	common	and	while	they	seem	unusual,	maybe	even	cruel,	from some	perspectives,	the	partners	in	such	relationships	often	grow	to	love	one another	and	report	high	levels	of	relationship-satisfaction,	sometimes	higher	and often	no	worse	than	the	satisfaction	of	those	in	'autonomous'	marriages.31	So	it	is not	that	unusual	to	believe	that	love	can	blossom	from	some	pre-programming and	pre-arranging	of	unions. Critics	might	dispute	these	examples	and	argue	that	the	kind	of programming	involved	in	human	relationships	is	very	different	from	the	kind that	will	arise	in	human-robot	relationships.	Humans	are	only	loosely programmed	to	seek	attachment.	They	are	not	brainwashed	to	love	a	particular person.	Also,	even	in	the	case	of	arranged	marriage	(where	there	is	greater restriction	and	direction	of	choice)	the	partners	are	not	coerced	into	the relationship	on	an	ongoing	basis.	They	can	exercise	their	autonomy	after	the union	has	formed	and	escape	the	relationship	if	they	desire. But	it	is	not	clear	that	the	disanalogies	are	all	that	strong.	It	is	true	that, classically,	robots	and	AIs	were	programmed	from	the	top-down	by	particular human	programmers	to	follow	highly	specified	instructions,	but	this	is	no	longer the	norm.	Robots	and	AIs	are	now	programmed	from	the	bottom	up,	to	follow 31	Robert	Epstein,	Mayuri	Pandit	and	Mansi	Thakar,	'How	Love	Emerges	in Arranged	Marriages:	Two	Cross-cultural	Studies'	(2013)	Journal	of	Comparative Family	Studies,	44	(3):	341-360;	and	PC	Regan,	S	Lakhanpal,	and	C	Anguiano, 'Relationship	outcomes	in	Indian-American	love-based	and	arranged	marriages' (2012)	Psychological	Report	110(3):915-24. learning	rules,	and	to	adapt	to	new	challenges	and	circumstances.	The	flexibility of	this	adaptive	learning	is	still	rather	limited	–	we	are	yet	to	create	a	generalised form	of	artificial	intelligence	–	but	as	this	approach	proliferates	and	grows	the alleged	disanalogies	between	the	programming	of	human	lovers	and	robot	lovers will	narrow.	It	will	no	longer	be	absurd	to	claim	that	robot	lovers	commit	to	us on	the	basis	of	a	free	and	ongoing	choice,	nor	to	imagine	that	they	might	fall	out of	love	with	us	through	continued	learning. None	of	this	to	say	that	preferring	a	robot	lover	over	a	human	lover	is	a good	thing	or	that	there	are	no	ethical	problems	with	creating	robot	lovers. There	are. Worries	about	the	objectification	and	domination	of	robot	partners, as	well	as	the	social	consequences	that	this	might	have,	have	been	voiced	by several	critics.	I	have	discussed	these	worries	at	length	in	previous	work.32 Similarly,	Nyholm	and	Frank	argue	that	the	creators	of	robotic	lovers	and	sexual partners	may	be	under	an	obligation	not	to	mislead	users	as	to	the	capacities	of the	robots	in	question	to	form	loving	relationships.33	They	worry	that manufacturers	might	be	tempted	to	exploit	the	emotional	vulnerability	of	some consumers	in	order	to	make	their	products	more	attractive.	While	this	is	a problem	with	all	consumer	products	(to	some	extent),	it	seems	like	a	particularly acute	problem	for	robotic	lovers,	given	the	centrality	and	importance	of	sex	and 32	John	Danaher,	'Robotic	Rape	and	Robotic	Child	Sexual	Abuse:	Should	they	be Criminalised?'	(2017)	Criminal	Law	and	Philosophy	11(1):	71-95;	John	Danaher 'The	Symbolic	Consequences	Argument	in	the	Sex	Robot	Debate'	in	Danaher	and McArthur	(eds)	Robot	Sex:	Social	and	Ethical	Implications	(Cambridge,	MA:	MIT Press,	2017);	and	John	Danaher,	'Regulating	Child	Sex	Robots:	Restriction	or Experimentation?'	(2019)	Medical	Law	Review,	forthcoming. 33	Sven	Nyholm	and	Lily	Eva	Frank	'It	Loves	Me,	It	Loves	Me	Not:	Is	it	Morally Problematic	to	Design	Sex	Robots	that	Appear	to	"Love"	Their	Owners?"	(2019) Techné,	forthcoming love	in	human	life.	A	relatively	strict	set	of	rules	may	be	required	to	guard against	abuse.	But,	of	course,	what	is	and	is	not	permitted	by	this	set	of	rules depends,	crucially,	on	what	we	think	it	takes	to	form	a	legitimate	loving relationship.	This	is	why	I	have	focused	on	the	philosophical	nature	of	love	in	the preceding	discussion.	If	I	am	correct	in	my	analysis,	it	will	someday	possible	to form	a	loving	relationship	with	a	robot	if	the	robot	can	convincingly	and consistently	perform	the	part	of	being	a	lover,	and	hence	any	restrictions imposed	to	prevent	exploitation	will	need	to	take	that	into	consideration. Conclusion To	wrap	up,	AI	and	robotics	are	being,	and	will	continue	to	be,	used	to augment	and	complement	human	sexuality.	In	this	chapter,	I	have	addressed three	issues	that	might	arise	as	a	result	and	made	three	main	arguments.	First,	I have	argued	that	we	should	be	cautious	about	recognising	a	new	form	of	sexual identity	that	applies	to	those	who	primarily	express	and	enact	their	sexualities through	these	technologies.	Doing	so	is	not	metaphysically	mandated	and	may contribute	to	social	stigmatisation.	Second,	I	have	argued	that	AI	can	be	used	to assist	human	sexual	and	intimate	relationships.	Such	assistance	poses	a	number of	risks	–	particularly	to	privacy	–	but	these	risks	should	not	be	overstated	and should	not	prevent	the	beneficial	use	of	AI	sex	assistants.	Finally,	I	argued	that, contrary	to	a	number	of	critics,	it	is	possible	to	form	a	loving	relationship	with	a robot	or	AI.	It's	a	brave	new	world	into	which	we	are	stepping.	Let's	make	it	a sexually	enriching	one. Bibliography John	Danaher	and	Neil	McArthur	(eds)	Robot	Sex:	Social	and	Ethical	Implications (Cambridge,	MA:	MIT	Press,	2017) John	Danaher,	Sven	Nyholm	and	Brian	Earp	'The	Quantified	Relationship'	(2018) American	Journal	of	Bioethics	18(2):	1-19 Kate	Devlin	Turned	On:	Science,	Sex	and	Robots	(London:	Bloomsbury,	2018). Michael	Hauskeller,	Sex	and	the	Posthuman	Condition	(London:	Palgrave MacMillan,	2014) David	Levy,	Love	and	Sex	with	Robots:	The	Evolution	of	Human-Robot Relationships	(New	York:	Harper	Collins,	2007) Karen	Levy,	'Intimate	surveillance'	(2014)	Idaho	Law	Review	51:679–93 Hallie	Lieberman,	Buzz:	The	Stimulating	History	of	the	Sex	Toy	(New	York: Pegasus	Books,	2017) Deborah	Lupton,	'Quantified	sex:	A	critical	analysis	of	sexual	and	reproductive self-tracking	using	apps',	(2015)	Culture,	Health	and	Sexuality	17	(4):440–53 Neil	McArthur	and	Markie	Twist,	'The	rise	of	digisexuality:	therapeutic challenges	and	possibilities'	(2017)	Sex	and	Relationship	Therapy	32(3-4):	334344 Sven	Nyholm	and	Lily	Eva	Frank,	'From	Sex	Robots	to	Love	Robots:	Is	Mutual Love	with	a	Robot	Possible?'	in	John	Danaher	and	Neil	McArthur	(eds)	Robot	Sex: Social	and	Ethical	Implications	(Cambridge,	MA:	MIT	Press,	2017)