Watson, come here. I need you.

As if I did not have enough to worry me, now I can add the impending slavery of all humankind to the list of racing thoughts that keep me awake at night. Combined with my concern about being replaced as a sex partner, now that Ken Jennings and Brad Rutter have failed to be the John Henry of the 21st century, I’m going to have to consider the possibility of being replaced by an intelligent robot sex partner.

But maybe my husband is the one who should be concerned about being replaced. The more I think about it, the more I’m warming to the idea of Watson, Robotic Lover. I imagine him programmed with the latest scientific research as well as my personal data. Using information about my menstrual and ovulation cycle, he could determine which days of the month would most likely find me receptive to his robot advances, unlike my husband, whose determining factor in approaching me for sex is whether or not anything good is on TV. Watson would remember to take out the garbage (without me asking) and unload the dishwasher (without me asking) and never claim to be too tired to watch An Affair to Remember and then sneak upstairs to watch the 76ers-Celtics game.

Yes, the more I think about this, the more I choose to join Ken Jennings in welcoming our new computer overlords.