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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!”
Create my version of this story
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 while since Emmy and I have been getting along great.
Lately, it seems like she’s always picking at me.
I feel like I can never get anything right in her eyes.
I feel bad when she gets mad at me and tries to make me feel guilty.
I’ve been patient and tried to handle all this the best I can, but it’s getting old.
It seems like no matter what I do, it’s never good enough for her.
I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around her, and it’s exhausting.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
It feels like we’re drifting apart more and more each day.
I try to hold on to the memories of the way she used to be, but even those are fading from my mind now.
It’s hard when it feels like she’s comparing me to her ex all the time.
I try to be understanding and not let it get to me, but it’s hard when it feels like no matter what I do, I can never live up to him.
I pull into my driveway and just sit there for a moment, staring at my phone.
The last text Emmy sent me is still up on the screen.
My thumb hovers over her contact info as I wonder if I should call her.
The street lamp above my driveway flickers and casts shadows across the dashboard of my car.
After a few minutes, I finally type out a message asking to meet at our usual coffee shop tomorrow.
It feels like a weight settles in my stomach when I hit send.
Her response comes quickly—a thumbs up emoji.
No words, no warmth.
I pull into Café Luna twenty minutes early and take our usual corner table by the window.
The scent of coffee beans and pastries fills the air, but it’s not as comforting as usual.
I sit down at our table and stare out the window, rehearsing what I want to say.
I’m not sure how this is going to go.
I don’t know if Emmy will be open to talking about what’s been bothering me, or if she’ll just get defensive.
I can’t help but wonder if things will ever go back to the way they were when we first started dating.
The waitress comes over and takes my order for an americano.
When she sets it down in front of me, I stare at the steam rising from the cup, but I don’t touch it.
There are two other couples in the café tonight, both sitting at small tables near mine.
One of them is a young couple on a date—they can’t stop smiling at each other and holding hands across the table.
The other is an older couple, probably in their sixties or seventies, and they’re just chatting quietly over their drinks. They seem happy together, too.
It makes my chest feel tight to see them like that.
Emmy walks in ten minutes late, her long blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail.
She scans the café until she sees me sitting here, then she walks over slowly.
She doesn’t even pretend to smile as she drops down into the chair across from me.
"I’ll have a water," she tells the waitress when she comes over to take her order.
No vanilla latte tonight?
I grip my coffee cup tighter between my palms, feeling the ceramic hot against my skin.
I’ve been practicing what I want to say all day, but now that Emmy is sitting here in front of me, none of those words seem right anymore.
"I thought we could talk," I say finally, forcing myself to meet her eyes. "About what?"
Her arms are crossed over her chest and her expression is guarded.
I clear my throat and try to remember what I wanted to say.
"I just feel like…"
I glance around the café, feeling self-conscious about talking about this here.
"Like what?"
She raises one eyebrow at me and leans back in her chair.
Her eyes flicker toward my shirt and then back up to my face again.
"You look wrinkled. Did you sleep in those clothes?"
My mouth falls open slightly as I stare at her for a moment before I recover enough to speak again.