A Not So Perfect Match

"I'm home, Tim!"
I enter the apartment, looking for him. He's nowhere to be found.
"Tim?" I ask, curious. "Where are you?"
I peer around the area, unable to find him. The bedroom? No. The study? No.
Ooh! The kitchen! It's probably his favorite room in the house, although I can't blame him for that. Who doesn't love food?
Sure enough, he's there. I find him eating lunch. He's making a mess as usual. Too bad he never cleans up after himself. I swear, I do everything around here. That's the price I have to pay for love, I suppose.
"Hi, Tim!" I chirp. "I missed you!"
I get no response. He ignores my presence completely, intent on eating.
"Hello?" I call, walking to him. "Can I get some sort of greeting, maybe?"
He turns his head to watch my approach, and his eyes narrow. He seems to almost be disinterested, lazily assessing that I'm nearby. He then resumes his meal, shuffling so he has his back to me.
Is he ignoring me on purpose? It clicks. He's mad at me.
"This is about me leaving this morning, isn't it?" I question, despite knowing the answer. "That's not fair."
Silence.
"I'm sorry," I try, hoping to placate him. "I know you probably wanted to do something today. But I can't spend every second of the day with you. I have friends. A life. Other people I talk to."
Tim gazes at me again, his green eyes hinting at displeasure. He finishes eating and brushes past me, with hardly any acknowledgment at all.
When I try to follow him, close behind, he rounds on me. His face twists back in a snarl, fury sparking in his irises. When I stop, he starts to move once more to his destination.
"I can't believe you're acting like this," I snap, irritated. "Giving me the silent treatment is ridiculous."
Tim takes a spot on the couch, fiddling with the remote.
Fine. If he wants to reject me, I'll make him change his mind.
I leap onto the couch, wrapping my arms around him. He's frozen in surprise.
"You know you can't be too mad at me, Tim," I coo. "Just let this happen."
He swats at me, noises of discontent escaping his mouth. After a relatively intense struggle, he manages to wriggle out of my embrace with another glare. When I reach out to him, he recoils violently and growls. The look on his face suggests that he's offended someone as lowly as me could have the gall to even attempt to touch him. I guess I should be grateful he didn't decide to hurt me for that. There have been many times I wasn't so lucky.
He pads away from the living room, making it all too clear he won't tolerate me anymore.
"Come back and love me," I whine, reaching helplessly in the direction he went.
I knew I should have gotten a dog instead of a cat.