What I’m Really Thinking: The First-time Cohabiter

Living in different shared houses had been the ideal arrangement – seeing each other most weekends and at least once in the week, always returning to the liberty of our own spaces and circles, keeping the embers of anticipation stoked. At least that’s how I saw it.

But I know you didn’t see it this way. It transpired that you couldn’t stand it any longer and had to move out, and in with me, in our own place.

Now here I am with you, a few months into a lengthy tenancy contract in an out-of-town flat. Only now am I beginning to mourn my lost independence, the decisions I could make without having to consult or compromise, from when to go to bed to what to have for tea.

I resent the constant bargaining, the back-from-work smalltalk, the lack of escape room after an argument, and that sex already seems like yet another chore.

But, as my mum says, I need to learn to accept and work with the new setup (at least for another nine months) or I’ll end up a lonely, single fiftysomething like Uncle Reg.

I guess she’s right, that the problem is of my own making, because in January I was madly in love with you and everything was perfect. The cliche may just be true: it’s not you, it’s me. I need to change my ways.

• Tell us what you’re really thinking – email mind@guardian.co.uk  or info-@kenya-today.com