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There’s something about England’s gloomy weekends that brings about a reflective mood. Today I found myself musing about a new chapter in my life – in a few months’ time I am moving to a small country in Asia. There are 1001 reasons why it’s a promise of better things to come but it suddenly struck me that it might take my hopes for a lifelong, fulfilling ANR relationship from unlikely to near-impossible. Will I come to a point where forgetting is going to be the only way forward? Having had a live-in ANR for 5y in the past, letting go feels like suppressing some essential part of myself. Much more than giving up on a “kink’. Once you taste the heights of affection, closeness and sensuality that come with a breastfeeding, is there ever going back?
Dating can be a challenge anywhere and here we are making it hundred times more complicated by trying to connect within a tiny, scattered community. While UK’s general acceptance of niche sexual practices and a widespread use of tech created a bit of an ANR ‘scene’, the place where I am heading treats sexuality, even in its most basic forms, as a very private affair. Internet being in its infancy, language barriers…. you see where this is heading.
I am holding onto the hope that the desire to nurse could be cross-cultural and it perhaps transcends motherhood in some proportion of women, who see it as a more universal act of expressing a primal need to nurture, soothe, provide with her breasts etc. Even if the woman in question never heard our strange lingo and abbreviations.
Somehow I’ll have to test these waters without relying on online tools, going by instinct, experimentation and having to be an ambassador for this wonderful practice to people who have never heard of it. I’m dreading a scenario where my future partner tries to be a good sport and gives into her foreign man’s unusual fancies. Without that mutual desire and understanding, the magic of nursing would be lost.
In the meantime, during the few months I’ve got left in the ‘west’, I find myself oscillating between shelving my search for a suckling partner altogether, and coming back to sites like this one. I sometimes question what exactly I could offer someone at the moment – am I just automatically relegated to the crowd of transient, driveby sucklers, who trawl these sites looking to scratch an itch in a hotel room somewhere? Is there scope for beautiful memories with this practice in such a short term? Am I driven by the fear that this might be the last chance in years to find peace at a woman’s breast? A lot of unknowns but I try to remain hopeful.
I feel ya!!
My heart goes out to you. There’s certainly no going back for me. I don’t know how I could ever forget what feels so natural and fulfilling.
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