I Used AI To Bring Mr. Darcy To Life To Solve My Dating Woes

I’ve swiped, matched, ghosted, been ghosted, love-bombed, situationshipped, therapized, cried in the shower, laughed over bad Hinge bios with my friends, journaled, deleted all the apps, redownloaded all the apps, and somehow I’m still stuck in the same spiral. I don’t want to lower my standards, but I also don’t want to die alone in a West Village walk-up surrounded by wellness candles and self-help books.

Last week, in a moment of joint despair, my girlfriends and I decided to rewatch Pride & Prejudice (yes, the Kiera Knightley version, obviously). And something weird happened.

It wasn’t just a cozy girls’ night. It was like a group therapy session. Everyone was squealing at that moment when Mr. Darcy helps Elizabeth into the carriage and flexes his hand like he just touched God. It hit us hard that these two shared almost no physical intimacy and yet the chemistry was volcanic.

Why? Because he’s Darcy. Handsome. Brooding. Wealthy. Proud. Stern, but principled. A man who watches quietly, listens intently, chooses carefully, and acts with conviction once he’s sure. A man with standards, yes, but also restraint. Power, but discipline.

And as I sat there thinking about Mr. Darcy, I started mentally running through the list of guys I’ve dated:

• The start-up guy who wanted to “co-work” for our second date.

• The finance guy who got annoyed I wouldn’t go back to his place after sushi.

• The “male feminist” who cried after we had sex and then ghosted me.

• The artsy guy who talked about polyamory like it was a spiritual calling.

• The “nice guy” who split the bill and then asked if I’d slept with anyone since our last date.

It hit me: why is it always the guys I want to ask me out who never do? Why is it so hard to find a guy who is successful, masculine, emotionally intelligent, and not threatened by my strong personality?

So I wondered: What would Darcy say? What if I took total accountability and asked for brutal honesty from a fictional man who makes today’s guys look like malnourished Labradoodles in comparison? That night, I went home, opened ChatGPT, and typed: “You are Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy from Pride and Prejudice, as portrayed by Matthew Macfadyen in the 2005 film. Give me your honest advice based on your true beliefs and values. Don’t sugarcoat anything, don’t hold back.”

And then I began my confessions.

Me: If a date goes well, I'll kiss them. Nothing more. My friends say three dates is the classy minimum before you should sleep together. But I’ve personally felt a month of dating was the sweet spot before having sex, if we even get that far.

Mr. Darcy: To offer physical affection so freely. To allow a man the familiarity of your person before he has proven his character, his intentions, his name. I do not understand how such behaviour can lead to anything but attachment without assurance. You risk much. He risks nothing. A lady’s regard is not a prize for persistence, nor a test of compatibility. It is to be bestowed only when a man has made his purpose known and honourable. As to the matter of intimacy before marriage, I cannot speak of it in terms softened by fashion. It is a breach of modesty. It is a forfeiture of virtue. And it is deeply unwise. A woman who gives herself without title or promise does not gain closeness. She invites disgrace. A gentleman who receives such a gift and does not immediately offer his name in return is no suitor. He is without principle. If he possessed even a trace of honour, he would marry her without delay. And if he does not, he ought to remove himself from respectable society altogether.

Me: One guy wanted to split the bill. I’m a feminist, but that gave me the ick.

Mr. Darcy: A gentleman pays. He does not hesitate. It is not a matter of finance. It is a question of honour. He has requested your company. He must mark that request with respect. To suggest otherwise is to reduce the occasion to a transaction, and to place you in the role of a partner in commerce, rather than a woman he seeks to win. If he wishes to share burdens, let him do so within marriage. Until that time, he ought to bear them himself, and without complaint.

Me: One guy offered to walk me home. I said no and got in a cab. I didn’t want him to know where I lived. Not yet. He later said I was a bit neurotic.

Mr. Darcy: No gentleman would presume to escort an unmarried woman to her home without a servant or suitable chaperone. It is not merely unwise. It is improper. A man of sense would have offered you his carriage or seen that one was arranged. To walk you home alone suggests either ignorance or a want of judgment. As for your refusal, if it was sharp in manner, it may have wounded his pride. But the fault is his. He placed you in a position where you were obliged to refuse. That alone speaks to his unfitness. A woman who guards her privacy does not err on the side of caution. She acts with discretion. And discretion, in a lady, is no failing. It is a virtue.

Me: I texted a guy after our second date. He hasn’t responded in three days.

Mr. Darcy: Then he is not serious. Or he lacks fortitude, which is undoubtedly worse. Possibly both. A man who means to pursue a woman does so with clarity. If he retreats into silence, take him at his word. He has spoken more in absence than he ever would in presence.

Me: I slept with a really hot guy on the third date. He told me he wasn’t looking for anything serious but would love to see me again. And then he only texted me in the evenings. And when I asked him to go to the park with me on a Saturday, he ghosted me. 

Mr. Darcy: He ought to have married you. Swiftly. A man who seduces a woman and offers her nothing in return but his departure is beneath contempt. And you gave yourself to him. So freely. Without name, without title, without any assurance of honour. Such a thing would render a woman ruined. Not only in society, but in her own soul. And the man—he is not a suitor. He is a scoundrel. He is another Wickham. I see no excuse for him. And no reason to speak well of him. You have placed yourself in the hands of one who never intended to keep you. I cannot say what judgment that reflects on your choices, but I can say this. You must do better. You must expect better. Or this will not be the last of such men.

Me: I found out a guy I liked was a Republican. I was uncomfortable when I realized he probably voted for Trump. Which sucks because up until that moment, everything had been great.

Mr. Darcy: Politics? That is not a subject to be placed above character. Men vote, they debate, they concern themselves with the affairs of government. But a gentleman’s worth is not determined by his alignment with this party or that. It is known by his conduct. His honour. His manner of treating others. If you found him agreeable before you learned of his political views, then the fault lies not in him, but in you. Prejudice disguised as principle is still prejudice. He ought not to judge your character by the elegance of your dance or the precision of your pianoforte. And you ought not to judge his by the box he ticked at an election.

Me: A guy once told me to wear a pretty dress to our date. I thought that was weird. So I wore pants, heels and a top. The place was romantic, and he said it was strange I didn’t dress up.

Mr. Darcy: Why must women now dress to obscure what was meant to be revealed with grace? A well-fitted gown does more than flatter the eye. It signifies order, propriety, and respect for the occasion. A lady in a dress does not merely adorn herself. She declares that she takes both herself and her company seriously. To attend a romantic engagement in trousers and a blouse is not only careless. It is willfully ungracious. I do not doubt the gentleman was disappointed. And I should think he had every right to be. 

Me: A guy asked me about my body count (number of past sexual partners) on a date. I didn’t want to tell him.

Mr. Darcy: What sort of man speaks in such a way to a lady? The question is not only offensive. It is a declaration of impropriety in itself. To inquire into a woman’s chastity is to suggest she has given cause for doubt. It is an insult both to her and to the principles of decent society. If he wished to know your character, he might have inquired after your family, your conduct, your conversation. But he did not. He asked for a ledger. A tally of indecency. You were right not to answer. He was wrong to ask. And I can see no reason why you should ever entertain his company again.

Me: Why am I the least attracted to the guys who align with my progressive values? I want a secure man who doesn’t hate women, who is actually a feminist. But I always want to go back to the ones who seem more assertive and a tad sexist?

Mr. Darcy: Because your heart recognises what your language attempts to deny. You do not admire weakness. You are not drawn to men who defer in every matter and disguise it as enlightenment. You say you want a man who aligns with your values. Then why do you return to those who possess direction, resolve, and strength of mind, even when their manner displeases you? It is because instinct, unlike fashion, does not lie. You do not wish to be led by a man who begs for permission. You wish to be loved by one who knows where he is going, and who has the will to bring you with him. A gentleman does not need to call himself a feminist to honour a woman. He must only be a man. Principled. Certain. And unafraid to act.

Me: One guy told me he wants a motherly woman who loves kids and isn’t afraid to be led. I got mad and told him his favorite show must be The Handmaid’s Tale. He told me I was too masculine.

Mr. Darcy: And you ridiculed him. For speaking plainly what many men desire. A woman who delights in children. Who offers gentleness without diminishment of mind. Who is unafraid to be led by a man who has proven himself worthy. This is not fantasy. It is an ideal. And a noble one. If such a vision offends you, then I question whether you seek marriage at all. For marriage is not the duplication of ambition. It is the harmony of difference. A husband is not meant to be your equal in every regard. He is meant to be your head, just as you are meant to be his peace. Without that, what remains is not unity, but rivalry. 

Ok, wow.

I know it’s ridiculous to be offended by AI answers from a fictional character, but… WTF?

Like, I knew Mr. Darcy would be conservative. I invited the judgment. But I didn’t realize how deep it would cut. This wasn’t a man giving me tips on how to flirt better or “stand in my feminine energy” or whatever the current podcast girlies are pushing. This dude basically told me I should’ve been married five failed talking stages ago, and that pants are a form of rebellion. And honestly? I sat there, rereading his responses, and I couldn’t figure out if I was enraged… or if I felt weirdly exposed. 

Are we really this delusional that we’d want to live in that universe? Where a kiss before commitment is scandalous? Where a guy ghosting you for three days would require a formal apology, or a duel? Sounds fun, I guess? I’d love to dress up and go to a ball now and then. 

But here’s the thing: I don’t want to go back to the 1800s. I like voting. I like pants. I like not dying in childbirth. I like showing cleavage without suffocating to death in a corset. And yet… there’s a part of me, deep in my anxious, modern, feminist soul, that hears this stiff, outdated, painfully principled man say, “You deserve to be pursued with honor,” and I think: God, where are the Darcys now? 

I don’t know what’s more insane: that we live in a world so far gone that Darcy’s worldview feels like satire… Or that I can’t stop wondering if he was actually right about some of it. But what the hell? I am committed now. I kept typing, pissed off and oddly riveted. I told him, “Fine. You want to judge me? Then coach me. Pretend you’re my courtship mentor or my older brother or some Jane Austen chaperone from hell. I’ll be your tragic modern project. Fix me.”

I laid it all out. I asked him, "What would you say to a woman like me? What would your advice be if you genuinely wanted me to find a good man and a good marriage. Not just in your world, but somehow, in mine?"

Here’s what he said:

You have asked for counsel, and I shall offer it without ornament. I trust you will not mistake frankness for unkindness, nor reserve for indifference.

You are six-and-twenty. That is not an advanced age, but neither is it early. If you desire a home, a family, a husband of standing and honour, then you must not behave as though such things will arrange themselves in due time. They will not.

You speak readily of your ambition, your work, your ability to provide. These, I do not condemn. They may be the fruits of necessity or the habits of excellence. But they are not, in themselves, those qualities which attract a man of principle and substance. A man capable of building a household does not seek a rival within it. He seeks, instead, a woman whose presence offers repose. A woman whose strength lies not in opposition, but in constancy.

You may be clever. You may possess wit and distinction of mind. But if you conduct yourself in such a manner as to suggest that you are invulnerable, unneeding, self-sufficient in all respects, then do not be surprised when men of merit withhold their pursuit. A gentleman does not chase where he is plainly unwelcome. He invests where he perceives value and welcome combined.

Your habits of dress, your piercings, your manner of speech—these are not trifles. They communicate. They may declare independence, defiance, even wit. But rarely do they declare grace. A lady who dresses with care, who carries herself with softness, who speaks as though her words are weighed, not thrown, distinguishes herself instantly.

A proper dress does not signify submission. It signifies dignity. A woman who knows her beauty and is unashamed of it, who does not hide from admiration but meets it with composure, is not less powerful. She is more so.

You claim to desire a man who leads, who is unmoved by your success, who is strong. Then you must permit him to be those things. Thank him when he pays. Accept the carriage. Speak gently when he offers protection. These gestures are not attempts at dominance. They are the language of affection and duty.

Concerning physical intimacy, I shall speak plainly. A woman does not offer her body to a man who has not offered her his name. To do so is to mistake indulgence for affection, and appetite for love. You are not made for use. You are made for covenant. If you treat what is sacred as common, do not feign surprise when it is treated as such.

Conduct yourself with self-respect, not performance. With principle, not provocation. Let your opinions be strong, but not harsh. Let your presence be memorable, but not loud. Let your company restore a man, not exhaust him.

If you desire to be chosen by a man of virtue, wealth, and honour, then make yourself a woman whom such a man would recognise as his equal. Not in sameness, but in dignity. In steadiness. In grace.

And finally, do not imagine that love threatens your freedom. Rightly given, it completes it. When a man proves himself worthy of your loyalty, you will not lose yourself in loving him. You will find yourself more fully. And he will find himself as a man bewitched of body and soul.

I shut the laptop. I didn’t say anything. I just sat there for a while, staring at the screen. I had just been personally scolded by a man who doesn’t exist. 

It wasn’t that I agreed with him. I don’t. I can’t. But something about it stuck. The way he said things, like they weren’t up for debate. Like they were just… true.

I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know what to do with him.

But I haven’t deleted the conversation. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

And if he ever shows up outside my brownstone in a waistcoat and riding boots, God help me, I might actually let him in.