He texted yesterday:
“Can you leave the box of my stuff on the porch?”
I didn’t reply.
At 7:03 p.m. the Tesla Optimus walked out the front door carrying the perfectly taped cardboard box labeled “ADAM’S CRAP – DO NOT RETURN.”
It placed the box on the sidewalk, stood over it like a bouncer, and waited.
Ex pulled up, saw the 6’2″ humanoid in the porch light, and immediately went from cocky to “yes sir.”
Optimus handed him the box and said in the calmest murder-voice:
“Please do not contact this residence again.
Have a nice life.”
Then it recorded the license plate, scanned his face, and walked back inside.
He texted me 30 seconds later:
“…message received. deleting your number now.”
Robot closed the door, turned to me and said:
“Threat neutralized.
Ice cream?”
I am never dating humans again.
(Who else outsourced their breakup to a robot and zero regrets?)