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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 few months since Emmy and I started going out.
At first, everything was great.
She was sweet, caring, and loving.
Every time we were together, she made me feel special.
However, over the past month or so, things have slowly begun to change.
It started with little things here and there.
Emmy would occasionally make a comment about something I did or said that didn’t sit right with me.
At first, I tried to be patient and understanding.
I figured it was normal to have some disagreements in a relationship.
Yet, as the days turned into weeks, her comments have turned into full-blown criticism.
Now, no matter what I do or say seems to be wrong in her eyes.
Even when I’m trying my best to make her happy, she will find some way to tear me down.
I pull into the parking lot of our usual Italian restaurant, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.
Emmy is already scrolling through her phone, her face scrunched up in disapproval.
When I park in a corner spot, she makes a little sigh of disappointment.
I know she was hoping for something closer to the front door.
However, I’m not about to let her dictate where I park my car.
Once we’re inside, the hostess leads us to a corner booth where I’ve rehearsed this conversation a dozen times in my head.
The waiter takes our drink orders and heads off to put them in.
Emmy immediately begins to scan the menu, her brow furrowed in concentration.
I sit back in my seat, trying to relax and focus on the conversation ahead of us.
When the waiter returns with our drinks, Emmy takes a sip of her wine and makes a face.
"This is terrible," she says, grimacing at me.
"You should’ve ordered something better. My ex knew all about fine wines."
My grip on my glass tightens as I set it down on the table harder than intended, causing water to slosh over the rim.
"I’m sick of you always comparing me to your ex," I say, my voice shaking slightly.
"It’s not fair."
Emmy looks at me in surprise, her eyes widening before narrowing into anger. "What are you talking about? I’m just trying to help you."
"No," I say firmly.
"You’re not trying to help me. You’re constantly tearing me down and telling me how much better your ex was. It hurts."
Emmy’s face falls as she realizes what she’s been doing.
"I’m sorry," she says softly.
"I didn’t mean to hurt you."
The waiter approaches with menus, but I wave him away.
"We don’t need those," I say.
"I’ve been thinking about this conversation for a week now. I know exactly what I want to say."
Emmy nods slowly, her eyes still filled with tears.
"Go ahead," she says softly.
"I want you to stop comparing me to your ex," I say, my voice steady now.
"It’s not fair to either of us. We’re different people with different personalities and experiences. It’s not right for you to expect me to be just like him."
Emmy nods again, this time more emphatically.
"I understand," she says softly.
"Okay, I'm listening," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I need to know if you're still invested in us, or if you're just holding on because it's convenient," I reply, my heart pounding.
Emmy takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of determination and vulnerability. "I want us to work, but I didn't realize how much I was hurting you."
She reaches for her napkin and dabs at her eyes, leaving faint black smudges on the white fabric.
The dim lighting of the restaurant softens her features, reminding me of how she looked when we first started dating.
Her hand stretches across the table, her fingers trembling as they find mine.
The waiter discreetly removes our half-empty plates, giving us space to talk.
Emmy’s grip tightens around my hand, while her other one fidgets with the necklace I gave her on our three-month anniversary.
Her blue eyes lock onto mine, still glassy with tears.
She pushes her chair closer, the legs scraping against the tile floor.
"We need to rebuild this together, or we need to let go," I say, feeling the weight of the moment settle between us.