Get comfortable, this might take a while

I remember a time when I would pay $100 for a plane ticket just to get home to Michael a few hours earlier than I would if I waited for my free flight. I remember a time when Michael would go lights and sirens on his way home so that he wouldn't have to sit at a red light, because those 30 seconds were 30 seconds that could be spent with me. I remember a couple who used to enjoy each other's company so much that plans weren't necessary, just being together was enough, conversation wasn't even a requirement, just together time, just us, just love.
But now...
Not so much.
Now, he leaves for work at 7:30am (it's a 15 train ride and his office opens at 9) and comes strolling in (no running for the express train) at 6:30 / 7:00 (his office closes at 5pm) and usually doesn't speak until 2 beers later and only after he's worked on the computer and then it's to tell me to leave him the hell alone while he studies or to complain about how hard he's working and about how he's the only one in his office who actually works and everyone is out to get him and is working against him and his take-over-the-world-schemes. And I sit and I listen and say supportive bullshit like "Oh angel, you're doing such a good job," and "You're right, you shouldn't have to do so much," and "What can I do? Can I get you anything?"
And then I type away on this blog about my apparently boring and worthless life because if it were in fact interesting then maybe he would ask me about it and give me a chance to talk about the fact that I'm scared to death right now over the direction our life together is taking. That I don't see the supportive couple we started out as and that every night when I turn my back to him it's not because I like sleeping on my side it's to hide the tears that I silently shed because I feel guilty for waiting for the bus home instead of catching the train because the bus takes longer... When he's there I don't want to be. He used to make me feel like a princess and now when I look at myself through his eyes I see an ugly, fat, horrible person.
His various descriptions of me revolve around the whole frigid bitch motif with a dose of grumpiness thrown in for good measure. Oh, and let's not forget the standard complaint that I don't ever do anything for him and that I'm a careless and incompetent dog owner. He openly admits that he works so he won't have to be with me and then blames me because it's my grumpiness, after all, that keeps him away.
So, it would seem the solution would be simple. Be cheery, smile, then he'll love me again. But that doesn't work either. I follow his rules, I listen to his complaints, I scratch his back, I fix him food, I pay the bills, I walk the dogs, I take care of the car, I drop off his dry cleaning, I smile, I tolerate him eating dinner in his underwear in silence every night, I watch football and baseball, I spread my legs whenever he asks (not that he ever asks - he usually just starts complaining that as a married man he's not allowed to have sex anymore and that he doesn't know what it is anymore and about how all the girls he went to high school with were so horny and he could have any college girl he wanted when he was in school because they were all horny for him too...) I pretty much just fade into his background. I might as well be a couch cushion for all the attention he pays to me. Oh, and let's not forget that I'm wrong about everything but apparently I can't admit this and I need him to point this out to me daily because if he didn't then I might get a big head. I know I'm wrong about most things, I know I make mistakes, I break glasses, I break paws, I spill food down all my white T-shirts, and I never know what to say or do in social situations, I don't need him to reinforce all my insecurities on a daily basis, I do that enough on my own.
I keep thinking that it will change. His job will get easier, my school will end, the dog will stop misbehaving, life will slow down... We'll go hiking, he'll start boating again, we'll smile, we'll fall back in love... I won't have to remind him to bring home flowers or email him a link to the thoughtful anniversary gift that I so wanted him to come up with on his own. (Michael I know you're reading this - and it wasn't the ring I wanted - I wanted you to know me enough and to want to make me smile... It's not the gift, it's the thought.) Five years, nothing. A little blue bag thrown on the coffee table, "Here you go, hope it fits." No candles, no flowers, no card, "Here yah go..." More like, here's your sign... But hey, that's my fault. I didn't plan a romantic evening. I didn't spell it out for him. I didn't do it for him, so I didn't deserve it. If I wanted a special night so much I should have done it myself, right? It's my own fault. I'm not as special as I thought I was, I guess I'm lucky that I have him to remind me of that.