There is also the very real possibility that he no longer finds me attractive now that I’m pregnant. My belly has popped and I’m finally looking like a pregnant lady, but what man isn’t attracted to growing boobs? I have some new stretch marks and sometimes I don’t have the energy to wash my hair so the blonde strands lay flat against my head, but Liam looks at me as though he wants me. There is a heat in his gaze and every time his fingers graze my skin electricity sparks between us. But he has never leaned in for a kiss, never lets his touch linger.

If sex isn’t on the cards, I was hoping to convince him to find out the gender as a distraction. But it’s been to no avail. Instead I have to listen to him give valid reasons on why we shouldn’t.

Every day, the sixteen-week scan grows closer, and the anticipation of knowing is eating me up. It would be so much easier if I could just tell him that if we can’t find out the gender, there is another need we could both satisfy. But I can’t be the one to break the agreement. Over the past four months I have come to the realisation that I am very demanding. I like things done a certain way and I don’t see why I should expect less than what I want. However, I am going to enter a co-parenting dynamic in the near future, so my way or the highway is no longer going to be the default. I had the great idea that I could loosen the reins and be chill about finding out the gender. Right until Liam told me he wanted it to be a surprise. Sentimental bastard.

I know I’m being selfish, about both the gender and the flirting. I think deep down the reason I want to sleep with him is because I need him to fuck me. Not want – need.

Is it possible to die from a lack of satisfaction? I think I will be the first documented case: killed from lack of sex. Maybe my libido will get so high that all the blood will go to between my thighs and away from my brain until I die. Dramatics aside, that is simply how turned on I am.