Lately I've found myself pining over the idea of this apartment being mine and mine alone. Ponge has been pawing on me at night, and it's getting on my nerves. I like the cuddling and light snuggling, but I have no sexual desire for him at all. He clearly still has sexual desire for me, and we can never cuddle without it getting him all fucking turned on and getting me all stiff bodied and nonresponsive, and sometimes he doesn't catch on to the body language and then I have to say, hey I'm not into this and then he gets all awkward and says sorry.
Fuck. And I'm sick of smelling chicken. Boiling chicken, frying chicken, microwaved 3 day old chicken. Gross. Stupid little drumsticks as far as the freezer is deep.
Stupid everything.
So now what? Should I bring up him moving out again and just work my ass off at the club to make up for the bills he won't be sharing any longer? Or should I just fucking deal with it and put my desires to have this place entirely to me and my cat out of my mind?
It's like I can't have any sort of peace when he is around. I am feeling all sorts of anxiety right now because I know he will be home from soccer soon. He will then turn the TV on despite the fact that I have the radio on in the living room. He won't ask, he'll just turn it on & I'll have to turn the radio off and either watch dumb fucking TV or dick around on the internet (this is my way of avoiding the TV) or leave or sulk in our room. I don't want it to be our room. I want it to be MY room.
Fuck.