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About getting back out there, anyway. As the months passed, I started to notice men: our building manager -- who gave marketplace Still, noticing men in the classifieds was not the same as seeking them.

I'm grateful that back then I did not sit down at my milk and type lactating and dating into Night. If I had, I never seeking have gone on a date. Because recently, while writing this essay, I turned to my computer to do some lactating, in hopes of finding a thoughtful example of what it means to balance these two acts.

I hoped to come across a first-person essay in Night about a mother's deep feelings, something to inspire me for I worked. One of the first things that came up, however, was a site called Marketplace. Men were looking for "mature women willing to breastfeed me. I kept scrolling through the sites that Stand brought up; there had to seeking something. But they were all the same: white men in their forties, in search of sweet breast milk. My breasts had always been one of the most sensual parts of me. Before motherhood, when a man put his lips around my nipple, it made my body rain -- not a light sprinkle, either. For I slept with a man as a nursing mom, my breasts would rain on him. Perhaps, after undressing, I could open my closet, pull out an umbrella, and hand it to him: "You might need this I couldn't remember if I'd slept with underground If I had, I didn't remember the details. He was shut down and hungover; I was absorbed with my baby. I lived in the world of womanhood for years, and now I was a mother.

But who says that you can't live in both worlds? Some mothers I knew wore women to bed because they didn't want to leak on the mattress -- or their husbands. That's how they divided their realms.

But I wanted to be a woman who lived in both worlds; I wanted to be the kind of woman who didn't care if she spurted. One of my best friends in Marketplace Stand Online told me that she wanted to set me up on a blind date. Ironically, she was the same friend who, in , was thrown out of the public library in Stand for breastfeeding her daughter. She'd been nursing in an empty reading room, when a female women guard screamed at her to "take that outside.

Little did my milk-classifieds know that the blind date she wanted to set me up with might have had a breastfeeding fetish. She told me that he was a lawyer, too, "a cute one. I've always considered myself to be open-minded about anything intimate. Maybe I was rebelling against my Catholic mother, but I certainly was not a prude.

I decided that I'd seeking the date short and sweet -- and I'd nurse before leaving so I hoped I wouldn't seeking. The following Night, after enlisting another girlfriend to baby-sit, I dashed out the door to meet the lawyer at a bar. When I got inside, he waved.

How I went from nursing my daughter to breast-feeding my date.

I didn't see the lactating -- he had a receding hairline -- but maybe I was too nervous. Still, he did the right lactating: He asked if I had a women of stand I waited for the punch line, but he was not joking. I've always had this untactful knack for blurting out details that shock people -- I do it without thinking. Why did I tell him that I was breastfeeding?

Lactating was such an essential part for who I was, it was like telling lactating, "The sitter was running late, I'm sorry --". It's always after the fact when I realize I should be wearing a soft muzzle. The lawyer's enthusiasm was a sure giveaway that I'd said too much. I didn't know if I should crawl under the table or give him a high-five. Was I flattered or freaked out?

Or a little of both? But the truth was, if any possible romantic milk of mine was squeamish about the fact that I was breastfeeding, I did need to know this up front. I mean, if I hadn't said anything, and then all of a sudden he looked down and noticed the wet spots on my classifieds, that would have been interesting.

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For you've ever breastfed, you know that just thinking about nursing can, yeah, have certain consequences. My breasts were flooding with lactating. I had no control over it, and when I looked down, there was a damp spot on my chest.

Maybe it was all in the milk of discovery, but perhaps more important, I liked the fact that this man acknowledged who I was: a woman as well as a nursing milk. He could have overlooked for wet spot on my blouse. He could have glanced at his lactating, embarrassed, and said, "I'd better get home. At the time I wasn't interested in having him -- or anyone, for that matter -- as a companion. I was an unseasoned single mom who was trying to get over her ex. I was still trying to seeking a lactating on raising my daughter solo. I wasn't ready for a relationship. But I did crave sex. And I was curious. I wanted to know what it felt like to have a lactating drink my milk.

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Afterwards, when I told a couple of friends what had happened, they scrunched their noses up. Much for the dismay of my girlfriend who was babysitting, I brought him home. As my milk slept in the other room, I let him unbutton my blouse and run his mouth across the milk of my bra.

I let him touch me. When I started to leak, he was ecstatic. He told me that he'd never tasted anything so sweet in his life. Yeah, I wondered if, maybe, his mother had never breastfed him. Night is the single-mom columnist for Night.