I don’t know why you cling to this notion of impulsivity, as if our relationship was based on whims and lust.
I was a perspective of yours in spring of 2017, the first time you initiated contact, and you were in and out of my periphery our entire graduate career.
We talked rather intimately for two consecutive months, in person, totaling dozens of “dates” (exchange of information between parties in private) and shared more than enough with each other before we even did anything physically.
The only impulsive aspect, was revealing the information of our private life to any other party, a huge breach of trust and ultimately a betrayal that ended our relationship.
Me being in the amount of relationships I have, gives me way more data points than you and your mom combined and more insight and I won’t even touch on the fact that I’m demonstrably more intelligent than the both of you, but it’s nice to pretend that I’m some low-life delinquent, when my psychopathy is a reflection of my boredom with this mundane existence, not my inadequacy in any dimension.
I didn’t impulsively have sex with you. I knew the risks, I knew my health status and I knew your hygiene. All of which I protected myself against, and sure, you could have been a compulsive liar and sex addict, and could have had dozens of partners and not have been a virgin at all, but that’s where *trust* comes in, and you implicitly trusted me as well. No shit.
Your routine evaluations of me through the mental neuroses that is your parent really emasculate you. It was enough that you are vegan-in-wolf’s-clothing, but when you actively let your mom cup your balls like that… talk about turn-off.
Of course I want to be friends with you, because I see potential, and I don’t give up on things or people I remotely care about, but just as you have somehow concluded I am not wife material (when I haven’t even talked about the life I’m building for a family that you would be honored to be apart of), you have demonstrated that you are not husband material, because your mind is still in an infantile state, and can’t comprehend your own Oedipal tendencies. The lack of self-awareness is a panty-dryer, I assure you.