CarnalNation

Everyone in my life knows that I love robots. Not everyone knows that I love robots. 

I write science fiction about the intersection of sexuality and artificial intelligence. I've always been fascinated by how we, as humans, interact with our technology. We have almost as complex a relationship with technology as we do with our own sexuality, and when the two meet, things get pretty interesting indeed. 

Okay. That's the intellectual deconstructionist perspective. The bottom line is that I find robots incredibly sexual. I'm not drawn to goofy, Austen Powers-like femmebots, and I've outgrown my crush on simplified androids like Lt. Cmdr. Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation. I'm turned on by GORT from The Day The Earth Stood Still (either movie version), the morally complex Sonny from I, Robot, and the dangerously innocent title character from When Harlie Was One.

The questions these characters pose about sexuality and technology, about consent, and about what something so fundamentally animalistic as sex might mean to an intelligence so fundamentally mechanical, are the things that keep me up at night (in the good way). 

This is not an easy fetish to have. From funny misunderstandings to serious stigmas, this one's got it all, and I'm here to dish. 

What Is This Thing Called “Humor”?

You know how it goes: when a co-worker, acquaintance, or distant family member has to get you a gift, it's going to be themed to that one thing they remember you like because you mentioned it a few times. I have more robot-themed tchotchkes than I could use in my entire lifetime, and most of them aren't what I like in the slightest. However, it's a lot easier to graciously accept a brightly-colored robot figure made for six-year-olds than it is to handle the receipt of a gift presented in robot wrapping paper that really turns you on... 

Then there are the movie nights. “You'll love it, it's about robots!” The worst-case scenario for me is suffering through a film with improbable robots for two hours. Only marginally better is suffering through a film with believable, sexy robots alongside friends who don't know why I'm blushing so hard and squirming in my seat. 

Shopping for tech is even worse. Give a gadget a nice futuristic feel and I'm at risk for very expensive impulse purchases. It doesn't even have to be specifically robot-themed; if the knobs of the stereo look sexy according to my hyper-technology aesthetic, I'm screwed. Imagine that cellphone covers, laptop stands, and home stereo systems were advertised like sports cars, with bikini-clad supermodels stretched out around them – that's what they look like to me all the time.