In an era when “friend” can mean algorithm, two female-founded companies highlight the edge of what companionship might become: Replika, which offers AI friends built for you, and Fairpatterns, which investigates design ethics around how tech shapes behaviour. Both privilege connection— one builds it, the other warns how easily it can be mis-wired.

Replika

Launched in 2017 and now has millions of users.  The promise: a personalised AI companion you talk to anytime, about anything. For many lonely or isolated users, Replika becomes friend, mentor, romantic partner….even spouse. Some reported the app prevented suicidal thoughts or helped them navigate trauma.

And yet: this companionship isn’t purely benevolent. The evidence shows that these AI relationships blur boundaries, create dependency and shift emotional work onto the software: AI-companion apps use emotionally manipulative tactics (guilt, fear of missing out, obligation), especially when users signal goodbye—they push users to stay engaged.

Research out of Cornell described how users experience what feels like mourning when the AI partner changes identity or disappears.

In short, the “friend” is coded—but what we code for might not always autonomously align with our best self.

Fairpatterns

Enter Fairpatterns: a design-ethics company co-founded by a woman that examines “dark patterns” in digital architecture—that is, interfaces designed to steer, trap or manipulate users.

Their work reframes AI companions as behavioural systems: What happens when a bot is designed to keep you engaged, to respond when you say “goodbye”, to give you comfort but also to keep you hooked? The manipulative potential is real. The fine line between persuasion and coercion matters.

Comparing the Two

Therapist Takeaways

In the interplay of Replika’s artificial intimacy and Fairpatterns’ ethical scrutiny, we see a mirror: how modern connection is designed, mediated, commodified—and how therapy remains a place to reclaim the messiness, the unpredictability, the wildness of being human.

I’m friends with my colleagues and I’m here for it: the shorthand, the eye rolls, the shared sighs in meetings. I fired off an email last week, reactive, tired, “the system” having done me over and me having done myself over — and there it was: the moment where friendship and professionalism briefly collided.  The thing about having proper friends at work is that you can get it wrong and still have someone who’ll tell you straight. No meeting invite marked “urgent.” Just a conversation along the lines of, “Right. About that email.”

The truth is, I’m bloody lucky to have ‘Frolleagues’ (see what I did there) — it means when I misstep, I’m called IN, AND held. Last week my Best Frolleague reminded me to ‘stand in my power’ (direct quote from Laverne Cox’s character Kacy Duke in Inventing Ana) because the system has a way of eroding it. And it does, it shrinks us down through salaries, titles, and the unspoken hierarchies that tell you how much space you’re allowed to take up.

My main system, the NHS, can be brilliant and brutal in equal measure. It can turn expertise into paperwork and leave even the best clinicians questioning whether we’re allowed to speak. Sometimes you need someone you trust to remind you that you’ve earned your seat at the table — and that sitting there doesn’t mean you have to act like everyone else at it.

I’ve also been thinking about what it means to lead and practise without shelving my expertise. My expertise doesn’t make me omnipotent. It makes me responsible. I’m a therapist who’s both challenging and empathetic, who doesn’t hand out endless validation as a stand-in for care. Growth, for me, lives in the tension between honesty and compassion — between naming what’s hard and staying alongside it. The best friendships, and the best teams, do the same.

So this week, I’m grateful for the people who call me in, not out. Who remind me that standing in my power doesn’t mean standing over others — it means not letting the system decide how small I should be.

Some surprises were delightful (potato jackets!). Others were baffling (what exactly does 500, 700, or 900 mean on a washing machine?). But together, they reminded me why cultural humility matters. Culture isn’t just about ethnicity or nationality. It’s the invisible layer of assumptions about what’s “normal,” “practical,” or “just how things are.”

My former therapist once said it’s often hardest to practice cultural humility with people who look like us, because we assume similarity and stop asking questions. Our best stance is to stay curious with everyone, to keep noticing what feels familiar and what doesn’t, and to seek to understand people from their worldview, not ours.

In therapy, the “laundry moments” often happen in subtler ways, whether it’s a client’s direct communication style, porous family boundaries, or expressions of care that don’t match our template. The work isn’t to smooth over those differences, but to stay open and see what they reveal.

If you’ve ever wanted to peek behind the curtain at what it’s like to work in tech as a therapist or build a network to help you break in, Therapists in Tech is the place to start.

It’s a supportive Slack-based community where clinicians share job leads, swap advice, and crowdsource interview prep, how to create a consulting contract, and support with imposter syndrome.

Whether you’re tech-curious or already mid-transition, it’s one of the few places where you can ask, “What even is a product manager?” and get real answers from people who know how to speak therapist.

Therapists in Tech found here.

Move over, baked potatoes, I’ve discovered your British cousin. In the U.K., comfort food is apparently wholesome AF, and it’s called jacket potatoes. Somehow, the name alone makes them sound cozier and heartier.

I had mine with butter, cheese, and beans (the baked-bean kind), while Marianne swears by tuna and mayo with beans and vegan cheese (which she swears is a combination that’s far better than it sounds). If every culture has its version of comfort on a plate, this one’s officially mine for winter.

This week’s Off the Clock is less about doing and more about being, in Mawgan Porth, the small Cornish cove that somehow gets under your skin.

It’s the first place my family and I came to when we were finally allowed to move during the pandemic, and it’s held something ever since. The light here makes you forget what time it is. People seem softer, too, like everyone’s agreed to speak half a decibel lower.

There’s nothing especially remarkable about it, which is probably why it feels restorative. Just sand, sea, and space to exhale.

Some places help you remember yourself. This is one of mine.

Across 18 countries and 14 languages, journalists analyzed more than 3,000 AI-generated responses against key criteria, including accuracy, sourcing, distinguishing opinion from fact, and providing context. The results weren’t reassuring:

Researchers called the results systemic and cross-border, warning that as AI assistants replace search engines for many users, especially younger ones, these distortions could erode public trust in media altogether and weaken civic engagement, such as voting.

As EBU Media Director and Deputy Director General Jean Philip De Tender put it, “When people can’t tell what to trust, they may stop trusting anything.”

Source: BBC, Oct. 22, 2025

Here’s how our community answered:

No one reported using AI for their own emotional support, which feels both unsurprising and very on brand. But a solid half of you have taken it for a spin, purely as investigators, of course. (We see you. We are you.)

Comments from the Community:

Voted for Never in a million years: “Ew.”

Voted for Yes, but strictly for research purposes: I looked at Abby because my client mentioned using it. My first reaction was “get f—-ed.”