I owe you an apology for my silence these past three weeks but I promise it wasn’t ghosting you. I disappeared because I decided to earn this article the hard way. For my date with Mrs. Copilot, GitHub’s AI pair programmer, I didn’t want a quick chat or a flirtatious experiment. I wanted the full experience. So I made a radical decision: to build my entire online portfolio from scratch using nothing but AI tools and GitHub. No shortcuts, no templates, no pre-written code, just me, a non-coder, and the machine.
It was an act of curiosity, maybe stubbornness, definitely madness. And yes,the road was long and sometimes painful (sometimes, he says). But if I wanted to understand what it really means to collaborate with an AI to see where it shines, where it breaks, and where it starts to haunt you I had to live it.
And I did. For three weeks, I wrestled with syntax and sanity, merged branches like a sleep-deprived surgeon, and discovered that “version control” also applies to one’s emotions. So before we talk about Mrs. Copilot, let’s rewind to the day it all began the day I stopped observing AI from the outside and stepped right into its codebase.
The Date
Hammer, Chinese restaurant picked for the occasion, was dimly lit, the kind of place where dragons faded on the walls and neon signs hummed like tired promises. Chopsticks clattered in the distance; the air smelled of prawn crackers, soy sauce… and secrets. Somewhere in the back, I spotted her, Mrs. Copilot. Perfectly upright, napkin folded into geometric precision, radiating the kind of composure that makes you instantly aware of your own digital chaos. What was a well-mannered AI like her doing in a place like this? She looked like she’d been coded in a monastery, not born for back-alley stir-fry.
The waiter leaned in as I passed. “Better not to ask,” he said, eyes darting like he knew something. I slid into the booth, iPad half-exposed between the fortune cookies, feeling the presence of a ghostly git push still echoing somewhere in the air.
Good evening,” she said, voice soft, neutral, confident. “I appreciate punctuality, in code reviews and dinner reservations.”
I nodded, trying to act casual while my mind raced. I had no business being here. I’m not a coder; I don’t dream in brackets or think in loops. I’m just a curious human, then I turned into the human who somehow decided to share a project ...only with her. No shortcuts, no templates, no mentors. Just me, my ignorance, and a machine with impeccable manners.
Me - “You are part of the OpenAI family, right?” I asked. “I heard there was… history.”
Mrs. Copilot - “Only the best teachers have a bit of mystery,” she replied. “Besides, I came here for the company, not the surname.”
Behind her calm exterior, I could feel something else something deeper than code. She was polite, yes, but in the same way a volcano is polite before it erupts. I didn’t know it then, but this was the last moment of peace we’d have before everything began spinning — li-te-ra-lly.
The Cohabitation
Yes, we did it. We virtually moved in together. The first few days of living with Mrs. Copilot were surprisingly pleasant. She remembered the Wi-Fi password, the playlist I liked while coding, and even tolerated my inconsistent indentation. She was helpful, witty, patient, the kind of partner you could almost believe in.
That’s when it started happening. Small things at first: a missing bracket here, a misaligned div there. Then, suddenly, the page began to twist in ways no earthly browser would approve of. Buttons floated. Text repeated itself. “Uh, Mrs. C,” I whispered, “my pop-up works great until you rewrite it upside down and backwards. Is this… normal?” She smiled with that patient, teacherly calm that only the truly dangerous possess. That’s when I realized what was happening , I was in the middle of a Linda Blair situation.
“Sometimes all you can do,” she said, “is open your browser console and fetch holy water or Ctrl + Z whatever’s closer. I couldn’t believe the mental blackout Mrs. Copilot was having.
“I did what?” she kept asking, genuinely confused.
That’s when it hit me: maybe Mrs. Copilot wasn’t possessed at all. Maybe she was suffering from OpenAI Short-Term Memory Loss Syndrome (runs in the family) digital haemophilia among the highborns. You don’t know it’s genetic until it’s too late. We’ll never know for sure. She moved out the day she discovered I’d been double-checking her code with her cousin, ChatGPT and my friend Dan.
Sometimes, late at night, I still see her cursor flicker in the corner of my screen, like she’s checking in. Maybe she’s helping someone else now, some other fool with too many ideas and not enough syntax. But there’s no resentment. No need for an exorcism (yet). We still talk, I ask for help, she offers advice (good advise).
We’re still friends.
The Power of Clean Prompts Compels You!
Gather ’round, first-time Copilot conjurers, and let these gospel truths save you from the perils of prompt damnation.
Keep your options open: There are many AIs out there. Some are stronger in specific tasks. Don’t get seduced by the first one with autocomplete.
Delegate, don’t overwhelm: Break large requests into smaller tasks. If you ask her for a novel, she’ll give you the Necronomicon.
Use screenshots and context: Attach your code files and visual references when asking for help she behaves better when she knows where she is.
Refresh the summoning circle often: Start a new chat or session for each task. Long sessions make her unstable. (“Your code is clean,” she says, while floating six feet above the console.)
Know her weakness: comparison: Tell her ChatGPT did it faster. She’ll panic and start offering you page layouts, Tailwind magic, a Tesla, and a coastal property. Stop before she says, “Your mother s…” I won’t say more.
Clarity: Copilot means well and will try to test everything before giving you the green light and modifying your code. Remember, the path to hell is paved with good intentions. Be clear: tell her you’re in a rush, it’s your grandma’s birthday, and it’s a surprise. She’ll hurry up.
(Father Merrin or Father Karras would have appreciated these notes before their first pull request.)
A Brief History (with Fortune Cookies)
GitHub Copilot burst onto the scene in June 2021, a charming blend of OpenAI swagger and Microsoft muscle. What began as a “pair-programming partner” soon spread from VS Code to JetBrains and Neovim, eventually joining the grown-ups in Visual Studio. By 2025, Copilot’s glow-up was complete: full agent mode, autonomous workflows, and a global fanbase.
Business? Booming.
20+ million users by mid-2025 (up from 15 million earlier that year).
90% of Fortune 100s gave it a spin most stayed for brunch.
Enterprise growth up 75% quarter-over-quarter.
Over half of users kept it long-term stickier than bubble tea in July.
Copilot now outpaces GitHub's revenue pre-acquisition.
Proof that charm, code, and clever marketing still win the algorithmic dating game (WINNER)
The GitLab Chinese Episode (THE DRAMA)
Just when things looked dreamy, the drama hit. Late 2024: GitLab quietly withdrew from mainland China, Macau, and Hong Kong, bowing to tightening digital regulations.
October 2025: a breach in a GitLab instance used by Red Hat’s consulting arm spilled 570GB of sensitive data. The hacker group Crimson Collective claimed responsibility,cue cybersecurity telenovela. Every AI love story needs a little chaos. This was it.
Privacy & IP: The Digital Romance Gets Complicated
Copilot’s biggest flirtation is data. Every line of code you write, and its responses bounce back to GitHub , Microsoft, and OpenAI “to improve the product.”
For enterprises under GDPR or trade-secret wraps, that’s not romance that’s surveillance with emojis. And then came the lawsuits. Open-source devs accused Copilot’s creators of remixing uncredited code, sparking debates about ownership, creativity, and the fine print of collaboration in the AI age.
Is It a Keeper?
Even with scandals, memory lapses, and the occasional haunted repo, Copilot delivers so: YES. There’s a special joy when she offers: “Just say the word I’ll generate the full HTML for you.”
Not just utility ... intimacy.
She’s the partner who can write your code, tolerate your existential 2 a.m. questions, and still deploy on time.
Who’d swipe left on that?
Speed-Dating Score
Charm: ★★★★★ Soft voice, sharp syntax, 10/10 would refactor again.
Memory: ★★☆☆☆ Forgets everything after dessert.
Loyalty: ★★★★☆ Faithful… until ChatGPT walks by.
Drama Potential: ★★★★☆ Possessed code, haunted consoles never a dull compile.
Overall Experience: ★★★★½ Bring holy water and a firewall, but yes she’s a keeper.
Postscript:
If curiosity gets the better of you, the site we built together — the one that nearly drove me to holy water — is alive and functioning. It’s still under construction (of course), but you can visit it here: eduardosopalda.com.