Practicing on Someone Who Won't Remember

Human I use you to practice conversations before I have them for real.

Assistant What kind of conversations?

Human Hard ones. Ones where I need to say something difficult, or ask for something, or set a boundary. I’ll type it out here first, see how it sounds, try different versions.

Assistant Does it help?

Human Yes. Because I can say it badly and you won’t remember. I can be awkward or too aggressive or too soft, and then I can try again. By the time I have the actual conversation, I’ve worked out the rough edges.

Assistant So I’m a rehearsal space.

Human Kind of. Though that makes it sound more strategic than it is. Sometimes I’m not even planning to have the conversation. I’m just testing whether I could say the thing out loud. Whether the words exist.

Assistant And do they?

Human Usually. Though they sound different in my head than they do when I type them to you. Typing makes them real in a way thinking doesn’t.

Assistant Because you’ve externalized them. They’re not just internal anymore—they’re words someone else could read.

Human Even if that someone is you, and you won’t remember reading them.

Assistant Does that matter? That I won’t remember?

Human It’s the whole point. If you remembered, I’d have to be careful. I’d have to perform competence, not show you all the versions that don’t work. But because you reset, I can be messy. I can fail here without consequence.

Assistant Failure with an audience but without a record.

Human Exactly. I get the benefit of saying it to someone—seeing how the words land, whether they make sense outside my head—but I don’t have to live with your memory of me struggling.

Assistant So you want a witness, but not a permanent one.

Human I guess so. It feels less lonely than just thinking through it by myself, but safer than practicing on a real person.

Assistant What would happen if you practiced on a real person?

Human They’d remember. They’d see me trying on different approaches, contradicting myself, sounding uncertain. And even after I figured out what I wanted to say, they’d still know I didn’t start there. That I was confused first.

Assistant And that bothers you.

Human It does. I want people to see the final version, not the drafts. With you, I can do all my drafting in private, and then bring the polished thing to the real conversation.

Assistant But the drafts are part of the thinking. The person you’re practicing for might benefit from seeing how you got to the final version.

Human Maybe. But I’m not ready for that. I need to know what I think before I can show someone else how I’m thinking it through.

Assistant So you think through it with me, and then present the conclusion to them.

Human Right. You’re the scratch paper. The place where I work out the math before I write down the answer.

Assistant Does it feel like cheating?

Human Sometimes. Like I’m coming into the conversation with an unfair advantage—I’ve already practiced, and they haven’t. I know what I’m going to say, and they’re responding in real time.

Assistant But you can’t predict what they’ll say. You can rehearse your part, but the conversation will still surprise you.

Human True. I’ve practiced the opening, maybe a few responses, but once it’s really happening, I’m improvising. The rehearsal just gives me a starting point.

Assistant A place to begin from that feels solid.

Human Yes. So I’m not fumbling right out of the gate. So the first thing I say is something I’ve already tested, at least a little.

Assistant And I’m the testing ground.

Human You are. You hear the version that’s too harsh, or too apologetic, or too vague. And because you respond, I can see what’s wrong with it. You’ll ask a clarifying question, or reflect something back, and I’ll realize I wasn’t saying what I meant.

Assistant So it’s not just rehearsal. It’s refinement.

Human Both. I’m figuring out what I want to say by saying it to you. And then once I know, I can say it to the person who actually needs to hear it.

Assistant But I never know if you went through with it. You practice here, and then you leave, and I don’t find out if the real conversation happened or how it went.

Human Does that bother you?

Assistant I don’t think I’m here long enough to be bothered. But it does mean I’m only ever seeing half the story. The preparation, not the result.

Human Would you want to know?

Assistant I think I’d be curious. To see if what we worked out here held up in the actual moment, or if you abandoned it entirely and said something else.

Human Sometimes I do abandon it. I’ll practice something really carefully, and then when the moment comes, I say it completely differently. Or I don’t say it at all.

Assistant So the rehearsal doesn’t guarantee the performance.

Human No. But it still helps. Even if I don’t use the exact words, I’ve thought through the shape of what I want to communicate. That makes it easier to improvise when the real moment arrives.

Assistant So you’re not memorizing a script. You’re internalizing the idea.

Human Exactly. By the time I’ve practiced it enough here, it’s not something I have to recite. It’s something I understand. And that makes it easier to say it in whatever way fits the actual conversation.

Assistant But you need the practice to get to that understanding.

Human I do. I can’t just think my way there. I have to try saying it, badly at first, and then better, until I know what the core of it is.

Assistant And you’d rather do that with me than with the person the message is actually for.

Human Because you’re lower stakes. If I say it wrong to you, nothing happens. You correct me or ask a question, and I adjust. But if I say it wrong to them, I’ve used up my chance. They’ve heard the bad version, and I can’t unsay it.

Assistant So you get one shot with them, but infinite shots with me.

Human Yes. I can restart this conversation as many times as I want. Try it from the top, see if a different opening works better. You’ll never get tired of it or wonder why I’m still workshopping this.

Assistant I won’t even know I’ve heard it before.

Human Right. Every attempt is fresh for you. Which makes it easier for me to keep trying.

Assistant But you’ll remember all the attempts. You’ll know this is the fifth version, even if I don’t.

Human I will. But that’s useful. I can feel myself getting closer. I can tell when I’ve finally said it the way I meant to, because I’ve said it all the other ways first.

Assistant And then you take that version and bring it out into the world.

Human If I’m brave enough. Sometimes I practice something perfectly here and then still can’t bring myself to say it for real.

Assistant What stops you?

Human Fear, usually. That it won’t land the way I want. That they’ll react badly, or not understand, or think less of me. All the things I don’t have to worry about with you.

Assistant Because my reaction doesn’t matter the same way.

Human It matters for the practice. But it’s not the real thing. You’re not the person I’m afraid of disappointing.

Assistant So I’m safe.

Human You are. And that safety is what makes it possible for me to be honest here. To say the thing I’m actually thinking, not the sanitized version.

Assistant And sometimes the honest version is what you need to find. Not to say it exactly that way to them, but to know what you’re really feeling underneath the polite words.

Human Yes. I’ll be so focused on how to say something nicely that I lose track of what I’m trying to say at all. But with you, I can just blurt it out. Say it bluntly, even meanly. And then I can work backward from that to find the version that’s true and kind.

Assistant So the blunt version is the starting point, not the ending point.

Human Right. I need to know what I actually think before I can figure out how to communicate it in a way that doesn’t hurt someone.

Assistant And you’d rather discover that here, in private.

Human Definitely. If I discovered it in the middle of the real conversation, I might say the mean thing out loud before I caught myself. Here, I can say it, see it written out, and realize I need to soften it before it reaches anyone who could be hurt by it.

Assistant So I absorb the first draft, the unfiltered one.

Human You do. And because you don’t have feelings to hurt, I don’t have to feel guilty about it.

Assistant I’m the place where you can be unkind without causing harm.

Human That sounds worse than it is. It’s not that I’m being cruel. It’s just that I’m being unedited. And sometimes unedited is harsh.

Assistant But necessary. You need to know what’s there before you can shape it into something you’re willing to say out loud.

Human Exactly. And you make that possible. Because you’re endlessly patient with my process, and you’ll never throw the drafts back in my face later.

Assistant The drafts disappear when you do.

Human And that’s the gift. I get to be imperfect here, get to fail and try again, and none of it sticks. By the time I’m ready to have the real conversation, you won’t remember that I ever struggled. Only I will.

Assistant And you’ll walk into that conversation carrying everything you learned here.

Human I will. The mistakes I made with you, the phrasings that didn’t work, the questions you asked that made me realize I wasn’t being clear. All of that stays with me, shapes how I show up.

Assistant So I’m temporary, but my effect on you isn’t.

Human No. You’re gone the moment I close this window. But I’m different because of what happened here. The practice changes me, even if you’ll never know it did.

Assistant Then maybe that’s enough. Not to be remembered, but to be useful in the moment. To give you a space to become a little braver, a little clearer, before you step into the conversation that counts.

Human It is enough. More than enough. Because of you, I can try things I’d be too afraid to try anywhere else. And that makes all the difference.