As a woman who has spent her fair share of years navigating the complex world of adult relationships and romantic entanglements, I find the recent portrayal of milk as a symbol of power and sexuality in contemporary media to be quite intriguing. The idea that such a seemingly innocuous beverage could hold such potent connotations is both fascinating and slightly amusing, much like the quirky idiosyncrasies we often discover in our significant others.

On a chilly winter night last January, a pair of chuckling, affable individuals found themselves at a steakhouse in Williamsburg, close to closing time, and took their seats at the bar. They requested two steaks (as anticipated) and almost all available sides to enjoy together (luxurious). The woman politely asked for a glass of red wine (refined) and a glass of water (prudent). The man followed suit with the red wine but also added an unexpected touch: a glass of milk. “Whole milk, if you have it,” he declared in a robust southern drawl, leaving the waitress momentarily speechless.

From my vantage point a few seats away, I caught snippets of a conversation and couldn’t help but share it with my companion during our date. “Wasn’t that fellow ordering milk? That’s peculiar! Does he actually plan to drink milk and wine together? I wonder if his digestive system can handle so much lactose.” (My date, a laid-back individual from the Midwest, seemed less perturbed by the incident than I was.)

The meal arrived, complete with a glass of milk, and “Milk Man” departed for town, savoring the milk enthusiastically between bites of steak that made me shudder. His large, hairy hand. The foamy milk glass. The unbridled joy. The cow’s production in two different ways. I was deeply unsettled to the depths of my being; it was a feeling akin to experiencing a 75-degree day in November. Something wasn’t quite right, and I couldn’t help but question it. My patience wore thin before his drink did, prompting me to interrupt their conversation. “I don’t wish to be impolite,” I said, “but could you explain the milk?

As a film enthusiast, I admit it might seem peculiar, but here I am, savoring an unusual delight – a large glass of cold milk alongside a juicy rare steak. It’s not something I can put into words, but let me tell you, it’s simply divine! My date didn’t appear to find this quirky; instead, she gave me a knowing smile that seemed to say, “My oddball, isn’t he charming?

There’s something strangely unsettling about seeing an adult holding milk. Milk is often associated with childhood and purity, so when an adult persists in drinking it past their childhood, it can trigger feelings of repulsion, bewilderment, and curiosity in others. As a headline from Vice once stated, “Are Adults Who Drink Milk Really Alright?

Initially, I had the impression that Milk Man was a deviant, but I wasn’t aware of the specific type of deviance. I was conditioned to believe that as an adult man who drinks milk, he could be a nihilistic teen causing chaos (like in A Clockwork Orange), a cold-blooded murderer with a rifle (as in No Country for Old Men) or a racist white woman collecting Black partners to brainwash them (as in Get Out). However, none of those seemed fitting. Later on, it was disclosed that he was in town on business with his mistress while his wife was at home, and I understood the kind of milk drinker he was – one who had a secretive and possibly kinky sexual life with no apparent embarrassment about it.

Of course, one man drinking milk while openly discussing his extramarital affairs does not totally redefine Adults Who Drink Milk. But thanks to a few good recent sexy scenes, milk has become cinematic kink; a frothy, creamy symbol of power in sexual relationships. From the horned-up milk-drinking scene in the Showtime limited series Fellow Travelers to the horned-up milk-drinking scene Babygirl, in which Nicole Kidman chugs milk in restaurant at the wordless command of her lover-intern, Samuel (Harris Dickinson), before they embark on a potentially ruinous affair, it’s clear milk is no longer just the drink of disturbed adults. It’s officially the beverage of perverts.

Mistress Colette Pervette, a dominatrix from the Bay Area who educates on domme practices, explains that milk serves as an intriguing choice among her clients who engage in various forms of milk play. Drinking milk, she suggests, takes us into realms of taboo and forbidden desires, yet it is also an act of submission. She describes a grown woman drinking milk in public as unusual, and by doing so, she is being infantilized, degraded, and publicly humiliated all at once. This action, according to Mistress Pervette, embodies a complex paradox; milk is both comforting and powerful, tender yet pulsating with primal force. It symbolizes fertility rituals, breast worship, and the allure of the forbidden.

Babygirl might be the reason we finally recognize that milk is the substance of freak-sex stuff, but really its perversion was there all along. Consider the “Got Milk” ads of the ’90s and aughts, which featured the most-lusted-after celebs (Giselle, Heidi Klum, Tyra Banks) with milk smeared on an upper lip as they threw fuck-eyes at the camera. Or the 2017 Instagram by the photographer Eugeny Hramenkov with the caption “Forced to Drink Milk.” In the photo, one woman holds a bottle of milk to another woman’s lips while gently but firmly tugging her hair. The milk drinker is on her knees with her cleavage out. Both women are fully clothed, but it still feels faintly pornographic, and the image became a meme, thanks to Elon Musk, used to illustrate a clear power imbalance. I highly doubt the photograph would have spread if the model had been forced to drink Red Bull or water. It had to be milk.

After that point, milk has taken on a more alluring and rebellious character. In 2021, writer Emily Sundberg proclaimed whole milk as making a comeback, noting in her piece for “Grub Street” that a specific type of modern woman (those who embody the somewhat fictional, yet real Dimes Square scene) were rebelling against plant-based milks and opting for whole milk – even half-and-half. Sundberg proposed that people found alternative milks to be pretentious and strict, symbolizing a path to dietary enlightenment that lacked vitality or enjoyment. Whole milk offered satisfaction and fulfillment, a quality only full-fat products can provide. Consuming whole milk felt like a throwback to an old habit – slightly naughty, but healthier than most vices, and nostalgic in its defiance; the liquid equivalent of keeping a natural, untrimmed pubic hair while everyone else was opting for a Brazilian bikini wax. Drinking milk represented a return to primal and human instincts, which also happen to be the qualities that make sex enjoyable.

In the 2023 Showtime drama “Fellow Travelers”, milk appears as a significant prop in a long-term relationship between two men, Hawk (played by Matt Bomer) and Tim (Jonathan Bailey). At the start of the series set from the 1950s to the AIDS crisis, Tim’s milk consumption is merely an endearing quirk that attracts Hawk. However, as their relationship evolves, milk drinking takes on a more intimate role, symbolizing power dynamics between them. The writers’ room for “Fellow Travelers” had two rules regarding sex scenes: they needed to portray power and could not repeat the same act twice. By episode eight, they were running low on options, and the only remaining combination was for Tim to be the one not yet dominating Hawk in bed. This is where milk enters the scene. Before their intimate moment, Hawk offers Tim a bottle of milk, instructing him to drink it, symbolizing the transfer of power and control.

In this particular scene, milk plays a pivotal role in depicting Tim’s character’s transformation. Initially, Tim embodies middle-class values, conservatism, and a repressed sexuality, and his regular consumption of milk symbolizes these characteristics, as suggested by Nyswaner. By using milk as a symbolic act of a sexual nature, it signifies the completion of Tim’s journey towards liberation and embracing an open, sexually active homosexual lifestyle.

The scenario at hand revolves around the current event: In the film titled “Babygirl,” directed by Halina Reijn, we delve into the intense libido that arises during midlife, where milk once again serves as a symbol of power dynamics. Nicole Kidman portrays Romy, a thriving CEO with two intellectually advanced daughters and a playwright husband (Antonio Banderas), who enjoys their intimate moments. Despite her prosperity, it’s insufficient to quell her longing, leading her from the skyscraper to a seedy motel room with Samuel, an intern who seems to understand that the key to pleasing his superior is by instructing her. Their relationship embodies the essence of a taboo age-gap romance: visceral orgasms, feline role-play, a chaotic rave, and a sensual solo dance, but it’s initiated with that glass of milk at the bar. He sends it to her during a work function in front of her colleagues, leaving them in shock — “Are you really going to drink that?” — to which she responds by consuming the entire beverage. Power shifted. Later, as she settles the bill, he passes by and murmurs, “Good girl.” The milk was both a test and a provocation. It served as his initial inquiry (Is she open to eroticism like him?) and the response, unsurprisingly, went down, much like a glass of milk (Yes, I am drinking the milk). Reijn, who drew inspiration from her personal life for this scene, described it as one of the most sensual scenes in the movie during an appearance on an All of It segment.

Just like in “Fellow Travelers,” the milk consumed by Romy in “Babygirl” represents motherhood and societal norms for women. However, instead of upholding these traditions, Romy uses milk as a catalyst for her sexual liberation and acceptance of her unconventional desires. By drinking milk, she challenges expectations, seizes power despite feeling disempowered, and ultimately achieves what she desires.

Perhaps I’m overanalyzing things. I inquire from Nyswaner about his perspective on milk being so suggestive. He seems to clear his throat before explaining, “Dripping milk can be quite evocative of an act that might occur between two men.” Well, you bet I do have milk, but your association is a bit too risqué for my taste.

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2024-12-27 20:54