“Great sex on tap for everyone, 24/7,” promises David Levy on the final page of his recent book. Now, Levy is not a sexual therapist. He’s not even a therapist: His major claim to fame is a successful run on the professional chess circuit. His day job is managing a company specializing in electronic hand-held brain games.

While this in itself has all the makings of a man with the secret to great sex, it’s worth mentioning that his book is titled, “Love and Sex with Robots: The Evolution of Human-Robot Relationships.”

Yes, sex with robots. You know those Honda ads with ASIMO, the miraculous midget android with the ability to serve the masses cocktails of all shapes and sizes? Levy wonders why ASIMO couldn’t serve you a quickie in the closet too. What’s more, according to his book, such scintillating services will be available as soon as 2050. That’s in our lifetimes, folks. Us opinion editors will be 64 – not even old enough to retire.

Are we so addicted to technology that we now prefer machines to other human beings? Once Levy’s sexually awakened androids hit the market, the transition from man to cyborg will finally be complete. We will replace one of our basic, primal instincts – indeed, what defines our existence – with an artificial recreation.

But hey, maybe it’s really, really good. Maybe Robot Rita gives better head than your last Isla Vista hookup. Hip spasming, finger twitching, pillow-bitingly perfect head, in fact. Better yet, your board shorts wouldn’t smell faintly of puke and shame the next morning.

We don’t think these sexbot sexperts are the droids you’re looking for. Perfect sex on demand sounds great on paper, but that won’t be enough for us. Why settle for the generic, static look of a mass-produced sexbot? We want variety. We don’t want to screw who you screw, despite our screwing who you screwed last Friday. If they want to make these sexbots really realistic, we suggest the following options, shall we say, “Sexbot Sextras”:

For starters, ditch those eye shadow-wearing, emo poseurs passing themselves off as “rock stars” and get yourself BLACKTHOR, the rocker with all the raw, animal virility and flowing blonde locks of a Bret Michaels. He’ll even boost your Guitar Hero score at no extra charge – just plug him into the controller deck and watch him wangle that whammy bar like a REAL man… except, you know, not.

Are you the shy bookish type, and not quite ready for a night of wild passion? Why not consider the Librarian option? Forget the Dewey Decimal System, this mild-mannered ‘bot uses the Do-ME Decimal System. Black rim-framed glasses are yours too for an extra $4.95… but you’ll have to supply your own masking tape.

So you’re getting on in years, and missing the perky, spunky gal you used to see off and on in high school? The Cheerleader sounds like just what you need. Perfectly programmed to do the splits at an exact 180 degree angle, this sexbot has all the pep you could ever want. She even comes with stuffed tissue paper in her bra – just like the real thing!

Now, we realize replacing genuine human interaction presents us – and by us, we mean society – a few teeny tiny problems. Will your sexbot call you on your birthday, bring you flowers when you are sad or stand outside your bedroom window blasting “our song” on its stereo? Well, yeah if you program it to. But what happens if you fall in “love” with your sexbot? And then, like 50 percent of the population does, what happens when you divorce your sexbot? Are you going to pay your machine alimony? Pressing control-alt-delete won’t work. You could however, leave your robot to rust in the rain while you move onto your next techno-tart. And if you did leave C-3PO to die, would you not be a murderer? Only the next 42 years will tell if we can work out all the kinks before sexbots start dialing your digits for a booty call.

Will you still need us, feed us, fuck us when we’re 64? Perhaps not. But Gigolo Joe and Jane might.