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On Thanksgiving Day my boyfriend walked out the door. Still, noticing men in the hallway was not the same as dating them.

Our daughter was seven months old, and I’ll never know for sure what put him over the edge. I’m grateful that back then I did not sit down at my computer and type lactating and dating into Google. Because recently, while writing this essay, I turned to my computer to do some research, in hopes of finding a thoughtful example of what it means to balance these two acts.

My breasts had always been one of the most sensual parts of me.

Rachel Sarah’s book "Single Mom Seeking: Playdates, Blind Dates and Other Dispatches from the Dating World" was published in 2007.Rachel is the single-mom columnist for Lifetime TV.com, and she has written for Family Circle, Pregnancy, Parenting, Literary Mama, Baby and American Baby..action_button.action_button:active.action_button:hover.action_button:focus,.action_button:hover.action_button:focus .count,.action_button:hover .count.action_button:focus .count:before,.action_button:hover .count:before.submit_button.submit_button:active.submit_button:hover.submit_button:not(.fake_disabled):hover.submit_button:not(.fake_disabled): Content Wrapper:after.hidden.normal.grid_page.grid_page:before,.grid_page:after.grid_page:after.grid_page h3.grid_page h3 a.grid_page h3 a:hover.grid_pageh1.layout_2col_main.layout_2col_side.__live_spinner.__live_spinner .__live_spinner_indicator.__live_spinner .__live_spinner_indicator . I lived in the world of womanhood for years, and now I was a mother. Some mothers I knew wore bras to bed because they didn’t want to leak on the mattress — or their husbands. 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. She told me that he was a lawyer, too, “a cute one.” After chatting on the phone with the lawyer — his call woke me as I fell asleep while nursing M. I’ve always considered myself to be open-minded about anything intimate.

One of my best friends in New York City told me that she wanted to set me up on a blind date. Maybe I was rebelling against my Catholic mother, but I certainly was not a prude. ”I waited for the punch line, but he was not joking.

Ironically, she was the same friend who, in 2002, was thrown out of the public library in Manhattan for breastfeeding her daughter. I decided that I’d keep the date short and sweet — and I’d nurse before leaving so (I hoped) I wouldn’t leak. I’ve always had this untactful knack for blurting out details that shock people — I do it without thinking. 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.

She’d been nursing in an empty reading room, when a female security guard screamed at her to “take that outside.” The guard didn’t know that my friend, Susan Light, was a lawyer who took it straight to the media, after which the library expressed “deep regret” over the incident and immediately sent a memo to remind staff of the right of women to breastfeed.“I want to date, but I can’t,” I told my friend.“Why not? The following Friday, after enlisting another girlfriend to baby-sit, I dashed out the door to meet the lawyer at a bar. I didn’t see the cuteness — he had a receding hairline — but maybe I was too nervous. The lawyer’s enthusiasm was a sure giveaway that I’d said too much. 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 was an unseasoned single mom who was trying to get over her ex. Afterwards, when I told a couple of friends what had happened, they scrunched their noses up. ”Much to the dismay of my girlfriend who was babysitting, I brought him home. He told me that he’d never tasted anything so sweet in his life.

I was still trying to get a handle on raising my daughter solo. As my daughter slept in the other room, I let him unbutton my blouse and run his mouth across the edge of my bra. (Yes, I wondered if, maybe, his mother had never breastfed him.) But this is what mattered most: He wanted me as I was, and I didn’t have to hide any of it.

I kept scrolling through the sites that Google brought up; there had to be something.