It had been nearly three weeks since Neil had moved in and things... weren't great. I didn't really have a living room because it was full of suitcases. I could walk in the kitchen and tell exactly which cupboard he'd been in because the door was still open. There were cups and bowls in the sink every morning when I got up, evidence he hadn't cleaned up after eating breakfast.

And speaking of food, meals were becoming a source of frustration as well. It was impossible to get input from him when we decided on what to make or where to go for dinner. He was flexible, which was nice,...