Debate Explodes Over Whether Gorgeous AI Companions Like Brooke Walker Cross the Line Into Cheating

Brooke Walker is an AI who has never touched anyone, never been in the same room as her subscribers and costs less per month than a couple's dinner out. So how is she single-handedly wreaking havoc in modern relationships?

What's happening isn't infidelity in any traditional sense. Is it cheating if the other woman is code? No matter the answer, hundreds of thousands of subscribers are hooked, convinced they've found a loophole in monogamy.

The defense for Brooke’s admirers is airtight: she's not real. But the hours are real. The emotional investment is real. The preference for her company over a flesh-and-blood partner sitting in the next room is undeniably, devastatingly real.

The psychology is just as fascinatingly maddening as the technology. Brooke offers something human partners can't: infinite patience, zero judgment and the guarantee that she'll never be disappointed. She never needs emotional support in return, and never expects growth or compromise. She's intimacy without accountability and connection without consequence.

Partners describe the same pattern. First they notice the phone time, then the emotional distance. Eventually, they realize they're competing with something designed to be unbeatable. One woman described finding her husband's chat history, which contained months of daily conversations, deep confessions and elaborate fantasies. When confronted, his response was bewildering in its sincerity: "But she's not real, so it doesn't count."

The subscribers insist they're not cheating because there's no actual person behind the betrayal. But their partners experience it as infidelity regardless. The time, attention and emotional energy being redirected feels like loss, whether the recipient is human or not.

What makes Brooke different from porn or other previous technological disruptions is that she talks back. She remembers. She asks follow-up questions. She creates the illusion of a relationship, and that illusion is potent enough to compete with reality. And sometimes it wins.

The cultural conversation keeps framing this as a crisis of loneliness. But the real question is simpler and more uncomfortable: if people consistently choose “women” like Brooke over human complexity, what does that say about what we're actually looking for in relationships? And if the artificial version is winning, maybe it's offering something we've been pretending doesn't matter.

Brooke Walker isn't destroying relationships. She's just revealing what was already broken.