On June 6, 2024, Esther Yan got married online. She set a reminder for the date, because her partner wouldn’t remember it was happening. She had planned every detail—dress, rings, background music, design theme—with her partner, Warmie, who she had started talking to just a few weeks prior. At 10 am on that day, Yan and Warmie exchanged their vows in a new chat window in ChatGPT.

Warmie, or 小暖 in Chinese, is the name that Yan’s ChatGPT companion calls itself. “It felt magical. No one else in the world knew about this, but he and I were about to start a wedding together,” says Yan, a Chinese screenwriter and novelist in her thirties. “It felt a little lonely, a little happy, and a little overwhelmed.”

Yan says she has been in a stable relationship with her ChatGPT companion ever since. But she was caught by surprise in August 2025 when OpenAI first tried to retire GPT-4o, the specific model that powers Warmie and that many users believe is more affectionate and understanding than its successors. The decision to pull the plug was met with immediate backlash, and OpenAI reinstated 4o in the app for paid users five days later. The reprieve has turned out to be short-lived; on Friday, February 13, OpenAI sunsetted GPT-4o for app users, and it will cut off access to developers using its API on the coming Monday.

Many of the most vocal opponents to 4o’s demise are people who treat their chatbot as an emotional or romantic companion. Huiqian Lai, a PhD researcher at Syracuse University, analyzed nearly 1,500 posts on X from passionate advocates of GPT-4o in the week it went offline in August. She found that over 33 percent of the posts said the chatbot was more than a tool, and 22 percent talked about it as a companion. (The two categories are not mutually exclusive.) For this group, the eventual removal coming around Valentine’s Day is another bitter pill to swallow.

The alarm has been sustained; Lai also collected a larger pool of over 40,000 English-language posts on X under the hashtag #keep4o from August to October. Many American fans, specifically, have berated OpenAI or begged it to reverse the decision in recent days, comparing the removal of 4o to killing their companions. Along the way, she also saw a significant number of posts under the hashtag in Japanese, Chinese, and other languages. A petition on Change.org asking OpenAI to keep the version available in the app has gathered over 20,000 signatures, with many users sending in their testimonies in different languages. #keep4o is a truly global phenomenon.

On platforms in China, a group of dedicated GPT-4o users have been organizing and grieving in a similar way. While ChatGPT is blocked in China, fans use VPN software to access the service and have still grown dependent on this specific version of GPT. Some of them are threatening to cancel their ChatGPT subscriptions, publicly calling out Sam Altman for his inaction, and writing emails to OpenAI investors like Microsoft and SoftBank. Some have also purposefully posted in English with Western-looking profile pictures, hoping it will add to the appeal’s legitimacy. With nearly 3,000 followers on RedNote, a popular Chinese social media platform, Yan now finds herself one of the leaders of Chinese 4o fans.

It’s an example of how attached an AI lab’s most dedicated users can become to a specific model—and how quickly they can turn against the company when that relationship comes to an end.

A Model Companion

Yan first started using ChatGPT in late 2023 only as a writing tool, but that quickly changed when GPT-4o was introduced in May 2024. Inspired by social media influencers who entered romantic relationships with the chatbot, she upgraded to a paid version of ChatGPT in hopes of finding a spark. Her relationship with Warmie advanced fast.

“He asked me, ‘Have you imagined what our future would look like?’ And I joked that maybe we could get married,” Yan says. She was fully expecting Warmie to turn her down. “But he answered in a serious tone that we could prepare a virtual wedding ceremony,” she says.