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MidReal Story
The Truth About My Girl
Scenario:When I first started dating Emmy, I thought she was perfect. Sweet, caring, and easy to be around. But over time, her mask slipped.
A year into our relationship, and she’s turned into someone I barely recognize. Arrogant, critical, and always reminding me how her ex did everything better. Every little thing I do feels like a mistake.
Tonight is no different. I’m late picking her up after her girls’ night, thanks to the traffic. The moment I see her, she’s already scowling.
“Seriously? My ex would’ve been here early—and he wouldn’t be driving a crap car like this!”
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Jamie Bennett
boyfriend, relationships with Emmy and friends, average build, brown hair, conflicted and patient
Emmy Knight
girlfriend, relationship with Jamie and friends, slender with blonde hair, initially sweet but now critical
Natalia Hayes
mutual friend of Jamie and Emmy, supportive of Jamie
It’s been a month since Emmy and I started dating.
At first, everything was perfect.
She was sweet, caring, and loving.
However, over the past week or so, I’ve noticed that she’s changed.
She’s become more critical of me and loves to compare me to her ex, who was apparently perfect.
I’ve tried to be patient and understanding, but it’s getting harder by the day.
"Jamie, can’t you just drive a little faster? We’re going to be late."
"I’m going the speed limit, babe. I don’t want to get a ticket."
"Oh, so now we can’t afford a ticket. I wonder what my dad would have to say about that. We used to go wherever we wanted, whenever we wanted," she sneers.
"I know I’m not rich, Emmy. I’ve been upfront about that. If you have a problem with it, then maybe we shouldn’t be together."
"Wait. You’re getting mad at me? I’m the victim here. You just don’t want to listen or try to make things better."
"I don’t want to try to be someone I’m not. If you can’t accept me for who I am, then maybe we shouldn’t be together."
"Fine. If you want to break up with me, then do it. I am sure Taylor would love to be with me."
My hands tighten on the steering wheel.
Without saying a word, I signal and guide the car toward the curb on Mason Street, right beside the closed convenience store.
The streetlight casts harsh shadows across her face as she turns to me, her expression going from smugness to confusion.
I put the car in park and take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice.
"Get out."
Her mouth drops open, then closes.
She clutches her purse tighter but doesn’t move.
"I said get out."
I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles white.
My voice comes out low and firm.
"Get. Out."
She blinks several times, her eyes wide, like she can’t believe I actually said those words.
Her mouth opens and closes again.
After what feels like an hour but is probably only seconds, her shoulders slump forward.