MidReal Story

The Truth About My Girl

Danilo Popovic

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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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!”

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.

Things were going great at first, but now I feel like I’m walking on eggshells.

Every time I make a move or say something, she always has something to say.

I feel like no matter what I do, it’s never good enough for her.

I thought things would get better as time went on, but it hasn’t.

If anything, it’s gotten worse.

I remember the first time we went out. She was so sweet and caring.

I spent hours researching the perfect restaurant to take her to.

I found this really intimate Italian place downtown that I knew she’d love.

She mentioned before how she wanted to try the handmade pasta, so I made reservations for us.

I even rehearsed what I was going to say when I picked her up.

I bought her roses and everything.

When I pulled up to her apartment, my hands were sweating on the steering wheel.

I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror one last time before getting out.

I had just gotten a new shirt, so I was freshly shaved and my hair was neatly combed back.

I walked up to her door and rang the bell, but then I heard her voice inside talking on the phone.

She was talking about me. "Yeah, he’s taking me out tonight. But honestly, he doesn’t know the first thing about picking restaurants. My ex always knew the best places to go. He never took me anywhere basic like Jamie does."

My hand dropped from the doorbell.

"Jamie’s just not as sophisticated as you were, Emmy. He’s just a small-town boy."

"I know. It’s just hard not having someone who knows what they’re doing anymore."

"Maybe you should get back together with him."

"No way. He cheated on me. But Jamie is just so… basic."

"Maybe you should find someone else then."

"I don’t know. I really like Jamie. He’s just not as good as my ex."

"Maybe you should give him another chance then."

"Emmy, I heard what you said," I finally confessed, stepping into the room.

Her eyes widened in shock, but she quickly masked it with a defensive tone.

"Jamie, it's not what you think," she stammered, "I was just venting to a friend."

I parked outside Emmy’s favorite bar, bracing myself for the storm that was about to come.

I could see her walking toward my car through the windshield, her heels clicking against the pavement.

Each step radiated anger.

She stopped at the passenger door and looked down at her phone before whispering something to her friend Sarah.

They both glanced up at me and laughed.

I watched as Emmy turned on her heel and stormed back inside.

I let out a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.

A few minutes later, she came storming back out again.

She yanked open the passenger door and slid inside.

"Seriously? My ex would’ve been here early—and he wouldn’t be driving a crap car like this!"

She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she took in the air freshener hanging from my rearview mirror—the same one she had picked out last week. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white.

We pulled away from the curb, and Emmy immediately started tapping away on her phone aggressively.

A notification popped up on my dashboard: she was texting her ex.

Without thinking, I slammed on the brakes.

I turned off the ignition and handed her the keys.