T.S. Eliot once wrote, “Humankind cannot bear very much reality.” This partly explains why a man (let’s be real: almost always a man) would turn to a sex robot rather than risk participation in the battlefields of love and strife that comprise human romance. Such a sex robot connoisseur would prefer plunging into the uncanny valley, so to speak, than venturing on excessively real dates at Applebee’s or searching for love around the warm hearth of a Mormon New Year’s Eve Party.

At the same time, confused yearning for reality remains hidden beneath this current of perverse longing. The reason for purchasing a sex robot is to get nearer to reality, without actually getting there. The sex robot customer both wants to avoid the realities of romance and erotic union, while coming as close to participating in them as possible (well, participating in one part of romance, anyway).

In our technological civilization, we look for authentic human connection through increasingly unreal means. Social media is the most frequently cited culprit: when I click “like” on your picture of playful kittens entangled in yarn, we only fake-interacted. We both play-pretended that I gave the slightest care about your kittens, even though my finger mindlessly spasmed on the “like” button without my conscious mental consent. The results of this feeble quest for connection are almost always disappointing and leave one feeling distinctly disconnected. Sex robots can only compound this feeling of emptiness.