It’s kinda weird when your relationship starts overtaking the length of what you view as solid, grown up, long-term, relationships. It’s been six years since this person chose that he quite liked me as a person and that our infrequent chatting and hanging out should become a more regular commitment. I was excited to make it three months into our relationship, and our six-month-iversary was positively a milestone. Six years in, and I’m starting to realise that some of my favourite celebrity couples who have children have not been together as long as Fahad and I. Not even merely the Kimyes of the world; David and Victoria Coren Mitchell have been together since 2010 and married since late 2012 – at which point I was studying for my A-Levels and Fahad was in his first year of University. And now we’re doing the adult thing, renting a house together with an actual sofa that we paid for and a TV license so we can watch panel shows at the same time that normal functioning humans do, as opposed to in a 10am stint on iPlayer two days after they’ve aired. Our trips to IKEA have gone from playful, flirty kissing behind mass-produced shower curtains in the showroom to skipping the showroom altogether, grabbing the storage boxes we came for, and making a swift exit before we get swallowed into the 4th dimension of hell that notoriously accompanies a casual trip to IKEA.

Sometimes, I feel like an imposter in the world of serious relationships. When we go out to dinner, I feel like the waiting staff are sneering at us for being the children we are, playing at being grown ups, accompanied by all the trappings of adulthood – a myWaitrose card here, a Labour party membership there, the inability to drink more than half a bottle of wine without some form of a hangover – and yet, it feels like we’re playing dress-up in our parents’ clothes. That’s not to say that I dislike the lifestyle we have slipped into over the years – the slow dissipation of takeaways ordered, replaced by home cooking and carefully thought out trips to Sainsbury’s; the shows we don’t watch when the other isn’t there; the feeling of telling someone about your day and finding that they’re genuinely interested in all the irrelevant things that happened; the fits of cry-laughing that make your stomach muscles ache for hours long after the joke has ceased to amuse. I love the stability and security of my relationship, I love seeing my best friend every day, and I love that our unity is an unspoken rule. I just can’t shake the feeling that we don’t quite belong in this world of taxes and ironing shirts every single day when we come home and play skateboarding games on my ancient playstation 2.

All of this said, I am very happy. In a ‘everything is going to be alright’ kind of way. And we did celebrate our six year anniversary like adults – by eating lobster, playing a game of ‘shag, marry, kill’ and then, of course, with a trip to IKEA.