I once did an interview with Wil Anderson and Anthony Lehmo when they were on Triple M.

I posted about it

at the time. It was soon after I’d had Remy and somehow the subject of breastfeeding came up.

As guys in their 30s without kids, they were both FASCINATED. Of particular interest to them was whether my husband had ever tasted it. To be honest, I couldn’t remember.

After the third child, it ceases to become a novelty (although I am still able to amuse myself occasionally by threatening to squirt my older children with milk if they’re misbehaving – always causes them to flee the room squealing).

In my travels around the Interweb, I came across this article by a woman whose husband left her when their baby was a few months old and she was still feeding. A few months later, she was still feeding and ready to start dating. Accidentally, she uncovered a whole sub-culture of men who are into lactating women. And ended up breast-feeding one of them. I’m not making this up.

She writes:

The following Friday, 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. I didn’t see the cuteness — he had a receding hairline — but maybe I was too nervous.

Still, he did the right thing: He asked if I had a photo of Mae, and when I pulled one from my wallet, he used the word adorable.

“She is,” I said. “I’m late because I was nursing her before bed –“

“You were nursing her?”

That’s when I noticed the sparkle in his eyes. Maybe I’d misread? But no.

“A woman who’s lactating!” he said, way too loudly. “What a turn-on!”

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? Nursing was such an essential part of who I was, it was like telling someone, “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 date 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 blouse, that would have been interesting.

And that’s exactly what happened.

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

You can read the whole story here, it’s not very long, just an excerpt from a book…..fascinating, confronting…..