During the week I am miserable. The structural design work bores me to tears. The engineers fight amongst each other, each in a different accent and version of broken English. Daniel comes into my office: Effing engineers, he says as he surveys the stark grey office. In broad terms, I enjoy my work, but I yearn for something more. Something more organic, something with colour and shape and texture.

At night, Daniel lays into me about my social life. Lists off the potential friends that I let slip away. Tells me that it's not natural for someone to have no friends. Tells me that when he invites a couple over, that I do not work hard enough to get to know the girl. I ask him how many friends I had when he met me seven years ago: one. I ask him how many times I've moved in the last seven years: six. I asked him how far away that one friend is from me now: 1,166km. I asked him how long I've been in this city: 6 weeks.

But he still won't back down. And I end up crumpled on the couch with Alf, who he is still threatening to give away. The only reason that I haven't is your feelings.

I don't know what to do. He wants to change me, to change the core of who I am. I've been like this forever. I never like anyone enough to pursue a day-to-day friendship. And the few that I do like that much live too far away.

This is the reason that he hasn't asked me to marry him, this and my persistent grumpiness. But the more that I think about marriage, the more I realize that it's not really what I want with him. We've been together for so long, I no longer feel that magic that you see in people's wedding photos.

I don't really know what to do.