I can see the perfect version of my girlfriend, and it's terrifying.

Genevieve was everything I could have wanted in a girlfriend. She was kind, sweet, and smart. Everyone who knew her in real life seemed to love her, and she treated them so well. She had a way of making everyone feel important.<br><br>She was beautiful, but it didn’t matter to her. She didn’t put much stock in physical appearance. She liked to dress well, I think mostly to make the people around her feel good. If they looked nice and she looked nice, they’d have something to talk about. She’d listen to their stories and laugh at their jokes. That was her personality.<br><br>I knew her for six months before she started seeing me. She was the assistant in the office where I worked. I liked her the moment I met her, but she complimented me and I couldn’t help myself. I stuttered. I was so nervous around her. I’d make excuses just to go to her desk to talk to her. She was always nice.<br><br>Once I finally worked up the guts to talk to her, I knew I couldn’t let her go. She was beautiful, smart, and she was so good to me.<br><br>One night, we went to a restaurant downtown. It was her birthday, and she wanted Italian food, so I picked a nice place. We sat down, ordered, and were eating before we’d finished complimenting the painting on the wall. We talked about everything: school, work, how shitty the weather had been.<br><br>As we were eating our second glasses of wine, a compliment stuck in my head. “You’re beautiful tonight.” *Why did that feel so wrong?*<br><br>We were both pretty drunk when we left. I didn’t remember driving home, but I remember her leaning on me as I walked up to my front door.<br><br>I don’t know how we made it in the apartment. I don’t know how we got in the bed. All I know is that *suddenly*, it was the next morning. We were in bed together, and we were both naked.<br><br>I nudged her, and she complimented my skin.<br><br>That’s when something in my brain clicked. *She complimented my skin? Why? I’m so hairy.* I didn’t know what to think.<br><br>I didn’t think about it too long, because she stood up. Because the moment she stood up, I saw the perfect version of her.<br><br>She was standing in the corner of room, her arms crossed and her eyes closed. I assume she was smiling, but I couldn’t see her face.<br><br>She was so much more beautiful than Genevieve. She had perfect hair, perfect skin, and a perfect body. She looked like a supermodel, but *better*.<br><br>I don’t know how to describe her. When complimented, she would change. Just a little. The first time it happened, all she did was smile.<br><br>I didn’t think I’d ever see her again, but she was there whenever I complimented someone. She was always just as beautiful as she had been in the first place. She only changed one thing about herself each time I saw her.<br><br>When I left the bedroom, she was gone. But I kept thinking about her. A part of me wanted to see her again, but I didn’t want to compliment Genevieve. I knew it would hurt her. It would make her feel inferior *and* uncomfortable. I didn’t want that.<br><br>So I made excuses for Genevieve to go home.<br><br>When the two of us were alone, I decided I wanted to see her again. I walked up to the painting in my kitchen.<br><br>“It’s beautiful,” I said.<br><br>She was standing behind me.<br><br>I could see her better this time, and she was just as beautiful as I remembered. She was smiling, her teeth were perfect.<br><br>“Thank you,” she said.<br><br>I turned to look at her, and she raised her eyebrows. “Don’t I look nice?”<br><br>She was wearing a strapless black dress. It was perfect for her.<br><br>I rubbed my temples, trying to get her out of my head. It worked. She was gone.<br><br>But I kept thinking about her.<br><br>The next morning, I couldn’t *not* compliment the painting. She looked different, and I had to see her.<br><br>I know it’s stupid. I know it’s messed up. But I had to see her. I had to see how beautiful she was. I *wanted* to see her.<br><br>“I love how the colors are mixed together,” I said.<br><br>She was standing next to me. She was wearing the same dress, but in a different color. It looked like pink.<br><br>“Thank you,” she said. “I just got my hair done.”<br><br>It was in a new style, some complicated curly thing.<br><br>Over the next few days, I couldn’t help but compliment random objects. She looked different every time, and I had to see her. I’d do it over and over and over, just to see how beautiful she was. I know it was messed up.<br><br>I stopped going to work. I stopped leaving the apartment. I didn’t need to. I had her, and that was all that mattered.<br><br>I know it was messed up, but I couldn’t help myself.<br><br>I stayed at home, alone, because I had her. I didn’t need anything else.<br><br>I didn’t even notice that Genevieve wasn’t around anymore. I didn’t notice anything else. Just her.<br><br>A few days later, I came to my senses. I didn’t know for how long I’d been gone, but I knew it had been a long time. I didn’t know how long it had been since I’d last eaten, but I *knew* I’d starved myself.<br><br>When I looked in the mirror, I was so skinny. I looked bad, and I knew it.<br><br>I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to compliment myself, because I knew what would happen. I’d see her, and I’d forget again.<br><br>But I couldn’t help myself. I said it, almost without thinking.<br><br>“You’re almost handsome.”<br><br>I looked in the mirror, and she was standing right behind me. She was so much more beautiful than I remembered. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.<br><br>She put her hand on my back, and I felt something weird. Something I couldn’t explain.<br><br>I looked at her face, and she was smiling. I smiled back.<br><br>I didn’t notice anything else. I didn’t notice that I wasn’t breathing. I didn’t notice that my eyes weren’t moving. I didn’t notice that my heart wasn’t beating.<br><br>I only noticed her.<br><br>And when my body was discovered, they found my phone, and they saw what I’d written for her.<br><br>“I love you.”