Peter, Sometime

Dr. Kali DuBois
2 min readMar 29, 2024

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The other day, I ran into Peter again, and I still can’t wrap my head around how that guy actually manages his company. He never seems to crack a smile during interviews — looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. But then again, he always had that deadpan expression even back when I first met him. I don’t believe he’s delved into the nuances of body language extensively. He appears uncomfortable in every interview. Strange how life works, isn’t it?

Peter was always good to me, though. A decent man, with a touch that lingered like silk against my skin. Ever found yourself falling for someone at the wrong time? Like when you’re still healing from having your head bounced against pavement and your sex addicted lover having sex with everyone but you, and everything you touch seems to crumble? It’s like a cruel twist of fate. Before you know it, your health takes a nosedive, and you end up grappling with sickness and setbacks.

And this guy, well, he was never the one. So here you are, scratching your head, thinking, “Hold on, I never asked you to be the one.” All I wanted was a garden with you and lots of sex.

That’s my story in a nutshell. I lost Peter along the way, and I can’t help but feel it’s on me.

Our interactions always seemed to exude a sense of perfection. He once labeled me as a perfectionist, a title I never really identified with. Funny how things change. Those anal retentive behaviors that once defined me seem to have vanished. No longer do I find myself crumpling up my writing and tossing it into the trash seven times before finding satisfaction in my work.

In the realm of my imagination, I cherished him dearly, for it was all I had in those days — lost amidst the passage of time, toiling away for equity that never materialized. It felt as though my youth slipped away amidst the shadows of men, most of them merely boys disguised in suit jackets.

Even after all these years, it still amazes me that my work continues to sell. I must have a knack for copywriting. I could peddle air to chinchillas and mustaches to babies, they say.

I doubt I’ll ever stumble upon love again, and oddly enough, I’m at peace with that. Over the years, my connections have been fleeting, like water slipping through my fingers. None have possessed the innate uniqueness that drew me to you, Peter. Next, there was someone who shared my kink, and prior to him, another man, though he had a penchant for tantrums and had the audacity to steal my sterling silverware (I shit you not, Peter)… I despise men who can’t control their emotions. Just act like a gentleman — there’s nothing stopping you from behaving civilly and treating a woman with respect.

There are certain men who deserve to be confined, their fingers gnawed to the bone to ensure they never lay a hand on a woman.

Such is life.

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Dr. Kali DuBois
Dr. Kali DuBois

Written by Dr. Kali DuBois

Brainwashedslut.com - I own a venue in San Francisco that puts on comedy and stage hypnosis shows. I'm a PhD in psychology and I write books on sex.

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