Next time, call him a pet name when you're mad at him. Establish names for different situations. Honey if he's being nice, Dick when he's being one, StressBall when you tell him your problems, and PunchingBag when you're mad at him.
My best answer, would probably be that i have no idea.
Maybe not having her around would feel weird at this point. Maybe i've become attached. Maybe i complain because it's easy to complain, but things aren't really that bad. Maybe i have a crippling fear of leaving her and not finding anybody else afterwards, condemning myself to a life filled with loneliness and bitterness at myself for fucking up the best damn thing i've experienced in my whole, insignificant life. Or maybe she has great tits, i don't know.
That can't be it, i'm such a charming and well adjusted young man, despite the voices in my head telling me to put the knife in ms. Lucy's tummy so the potential antichrist in her womb will not be born.
If you look at mine, you'd think so. He's your typical long haired bike riding guitar playing metal fan. But in reality he doesn't have a single bad bone in his body. He never even raised his voice at me, let alone be an asshole.