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I wish I were a robot

Today I wish I were a robot.

I just discovered that woman I’ve really liked for about a year, and who I had finally gathered up the courage to ask on a date, has started seeing someone else.

You snooze you lose, sucker.

I’m always afraid of letting people, especially women, how I feel. I know that we fellas are supposed to grab the bull by the horns, so to speak, and express undying affections obviously and openly. However, in my experience, women respond to that kind of openness in two ways: They brush me off as sweet, but irrelevant acquaintance, or they refuse to return my phone calls and give me funny looks.

So if I jump into the fire right away, I get burned. But if, as in this instance, I exercise caution and bide my time, I get burned as well. Ladies, please understand that everything on this end hurts.

Robots never have to worry about fire, or emotions, or the opinions of others. Unlike us human beings who have been given galaxy-spanning freedom and responsibility, robots only need to follow three simple rules:

1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2. A robot must obey orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

If God had made me a robot, I wouldn’t worry about women. I would have no heart in my chest, just a positronic brain behind resolute steel. No love for anything, just programming.

I don’t want to be a robot tomorrow or three weeks from now, but today I wish I could just do the things I’m supposed to do and not feel anything.