When two people marry, they usually don’t expect a third partner in the relationship. But in medical marriages, that third partner is often the job itself—ever present, ever hungry, and occasionally more demanding than either person involved.

Medicine is a calling. It's also a system. A culture.

A way of being that seeps into your bones and, sometimes, into your bed.

For many medical couples, especially those in long-term marriages, the real struggle isn’t about communication or chores—it’s about how to stay connected when your whole nervous system has been trained to disconnect.

And that’s not a character flaw. It’s a consequence of the work.

There was a time, not long ago, when porn came in the form of a VHS tape hidden inside a cereal box in your uncle’s garage.

Erotic curiosity meant faded Playboy magazines, elbowy make-outs, and the persistent question: Is this how it’s supposed to feel?

Now, with the miracle of generative AI, you can summon your ideal sex partner like a horny sorcerer: “Alexa, make her taller, sadder, and emotionally available.”

And lo—she appears.

The Archives of Sexual Behavior recently chronicled this brave new world: 36 platforms offering build-a-lover technology that allows you to control everything from eye color to emotional neediness.

Want a sultry goth redhead girlfriend with a 1960’s haircut with bangs who talks like an audiobook narrator and hates your ex?

Done.

Prefer a cowboy with a PhD in philosophy and a submissive streak?

Also done. Just click, prompt, unzip, repeat.

This isn’t "porn." It’s erotic UX design. You’re not aroused—you’re A/B testing orgasms.