I've been down this road before, and it can get very, very ugly and desperate and unfortunate and all of a sudden you're wasting energy being very angry about toilet paper.
I don't ever want to be angry about dishes again.
I don't ever want to yell at someone as a means of getting them to take out the fucking trash.
I don't ever want to rely on someone else to do my laundry. I don't ever want to feel responsible for doing someone else's.
I don't want to feel like I let someone down because I didn't go to the grocery store. I don't want to feel deprived because there's someone else to blame for the lack of orange juice.
I don't want my relationship to be whittled down to chores.
I don't want to get annoyed.
I don't ever want to subject someone to my extreme moodiness, my irrational fits of rage, my hourlong showers that use up every last bit of hot water, and I REALLY don't want to end a shower early for lack of hot water.
That reminds me: I thought I might have to move a few weeks ago when my water pressure died a slow, suspicious death (turns out it was just a hard water clog, and I highly recommend you drop your showerhead into a bowl of diluted white vinegar overnight to avoid interrupting a particularly lascivious dream to let a plumber into your house for 2.5 seconds because America's water supply is gross). It was a quick fix, and I was more relieved that I now have less of an excuse to move in with the boy than I would if it had been a permanent problem.
It's not that I don't want to move in with the boy. I don't want to move in with anyone.