AI Podcasters Really Want to Tell You How to Keep a Man Happy

“The fastest way to lose a good man is not cheating,” begins podcaster Sylvia Brown, “it’s becoming his biggest source of stress.”

Since creating an Instagram account in January, she’s gained 110,000 followers as a virtuoso on matters of sex, self-worth, and dating. Filmed inside a pristinely lit studio, Brown enthusiastically shares platitude after platitude into a broadcast mic. The video about losing a good man was seen by over 10 million people, including the rapper Dave East, who shared the clip and commented with five bull’s-eye emoji. “Stop expecting peace from a man building an empire,” Brown sermonized in another video that garnered over 1.2 million views. In one from March, she was succinct: “Men don’t want strong women, they want convenient women.”

Anyone intrigued by Brown’s controversial snippets may want to click through to watch her full-length podcast. There’s just one issue: They can’t. Her podcast doesn’t exist. Everything you see and hear—her voice, the neon sign behind her, those expressive eyebrows that dance up and down during her hot takes—is entirely AI generated.

This new class of digital dating guru doesn’t host real shows on Spotify or SiriusXM. They release tightly edited clips across Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube, angling their brands to take advantage of the algorithmic sweet spot: emotional content that provokes a reaction and is relevant to almost anyone who watches. The trend of relationship self-empowerment video podcasts, which is quickly finding an audience, draws on the rising popularity of AI-generated social media influencers, an industry that is projected to top $45 billion in the next four years, according to a report from Grand View Research.

Every video follows the same logic: A person sits in a wood-paneled podcast studio sharing advice about respect or cheating. While wildly popular, they often reinforce traditional gender ideologies. AI podcaster Wisdom Uncle, whose brand is all about “infinite knowledge,” evokes picture-perfect strength: He’s got enormous muscles and a deep, confident voice. His videos are advertised as a kind of upliftment guide, but his advice often just pits women and men against one another, preying on the insecurities of viewers. “A man can love a woman with nothing, but many women won’t love a man who has nothing,” he said in one clip, captioned “The Truth Nobody Dares to Say.” On YouTube, videos with mocking titles—“7 BRUTAL TRUTHS TO MAKE HIM MISS YOU (EVEN IF HE'S NOT INTERESTED)”; “If He Doesn’t Make Your Life Easier, Stay Single”—incite easy reactions from eager daters in the comments.

The videos routinely recycle the scripts of dating gurus for straight people and romanticize unequal relationship power dynamics. AI podcaster Nia Luxe wants you to “be his peace, not another problem he has to solve.” Laci Vince tries to convince viewers that women often accept the bare minimum, saying “high-value men don’t chase accessible women.” “Men are too soft” and “women got too independent,” which has made them impossible to deal with, AI host Lincoln Coles claims in one clip. Coach Ari Banks, who was created with Higgsfield AI and who is all about “soft thoughts, hard truths,” thinks pursuing a crush should mostly be done by the man—“Here’s what you do to get him to notice you: Nothing.”

The videos also reaffirm one-dimensional views of beauty. A majority of the women AI podcasters have a Kardashian-Baribie aesthetic, with goddess-like features, a complexion that is either white or light enough to imply racial ambiguity, and a hypnotic expression. They spout self-acceptance from the viewpoint of the flawlessly gorgeous woman who has it all figured out.

“It’s soft propaganda,” says Mandii B, cohost of the sex and lifestyle podcast Decisions, Decisions. The videos, and the rhetoric they spew, are trained on toxic gender tropes. “It subtly shapes beliefs and expectations without offering depth or accountability. It reminds me of how the American Dream was packaged and sold for decades: a clean, repeatable narrative that didn’t necessarily reflect the messy, diverse realities people were actually living. This content does something similar with relationships. It promotes digestible ideals without context, nuance, or responsibility.”

Actual dialog, however, isn’t the end goal for these accounts. Nearly everyone of the pages WIRED reviewed was a funnel to paid courses on AI influencing. In addition to a digital business launch kit ($117) or six-week intensive product accelerator course ($147), the creator behind the Ari Banks avatar offers a $497 lesson plan called “AI Content University” where people learn to “Create viral AI podcasts & talking head content, Master the Realism Formula™ (so your content doesn’t look AI), and Use lip sync + voice cloning to bring your content to life.” She promises to “Turn your content into income (not just views).”

AI with Lotti, the creator of Luxe’s account, who claims to have grown her Facebook page to 100,000 followers and 12 million views in under 30 days, sells an “AI Luxe Academy” course for $84. And for $9.97, you can buy Melissa Devine’s “300+ Quotes For the Women Who Refuse to Settle” to help script your AI podcaster’s identity.

“This is essentially the same principle driving high-performing influencer content: specificity and emotional resonance,” says Lily Comba, founder and CEO of influencer marketing agency Superbloom. “The difference is that AI is running that playbook at scale. But engagement without a relationship underneath it has a ceiling. Influencer marketing learned that lesson the hard way, and I’d expect AI creators to hit the same wall.”

It’s possible that the greatest harm in these videos is how regular they seem. The realm of AI is now polluted with manipulated content that is either uncannily bizarre, violent, sexy, or cartoonishly shocking—some people are still obsessed with those fruit videos—yet the AI podcast clips largely adopt a normal tone. There’s nothing especially extraordinary about the scenes save for the advice being given. That’s what makes them sneaky.

But the creators behind these flawless AI personas don’t seem to realize that the significance of podcasting—and perhaps the power of the medium—is all about human imperfection: conversations, opinions, and experiences that aren’t always neatly packaged but shared with a kind of unedited candor.

Even so, Mandii B understands why people are drawn to this style of artificial relationship content. “They’re searching for guidance. When something sounds confident, polished, and widely accepted, it’s easy to trust it.” She isn’t worried that AI podcasters are going to replace her anytime soon. The popularity of these videos boils down to a larger issue troubling society, she says. “People don’t like to think for themselves.”