Playable: The Sacred Language of Desire

Nicola McKnight

The world awaits, and I respond like the moon following her trail across the sea.

We have a home, we have each other, we have our momentary safety, we have our motherloded wealth, and I have my heart and this burning point within me, waiting to open into the mystery of union.

I’m not like Annette, “at one with the universe.” I like to find my one-ness up close and personal, with another one. The one.


“How are you and your friends settling in, Kobe?”

After Kobe’s display of hydrotechnics the other day, I thought we might be able to enjoy a little water play the two of us. After all, we both had pools installed in our backyards recently.

But he slid in a few reference during conversation abut his new lady friend, Poppy. And, while I may be romantic in nature, I’m interested in an exclusive soul-mate, not a soul-mate with a few wildflowers on the side. This is a rose garden with a single rose that I’m looking to flourish in.

Seems it’s time for me to get myself out there and meet a few Sims. I asked Cathy Tea where would be the best place to go if a single woman wanted to meet other single Sims.


“I like the usual. Quiet walks, candelight, women, men. I’m not picky, I just want someone with whom I can share my warmth. Preferably under the sheets.”

“There is this night club in town,” she answered. “Really fancy place. The Kissing Llamas. I’ve never been, but I hear it’s spectacular!”

I decided I’d go there that night. Solo, without the other girls. I can maneuver better if they stay home. Plus, I do have feelings for Paula, and possibly for Maya, too, so I want to keep my options open at this point. En seul suits me best while I am en prowl.

I took a steamy shower, gave myself a new, more relaxed hair style, changed into something comfortable, and even put on some light, organic makeup, to honor this goddess energy within me, and I headed out.


“Spectacular” is putting it mildly.

The Kissing Llamas is exquisite–“spectacular” doesn’t come close to describing the entire effect.


“Oh, my! Is this place on fire, or is it me?”

The entire mood was just, oh! Just oh!


TMI, buddy. But better that I find out now, rather than later.

I had a little conversation with a guy at the bar. We enjoyed each other, until he started telling me things about firecrackers and freezer bunnies. Moving right along. I’m not into evil.


Not bad, if you can get past the goofy clown hat.

The men were married. Or they were wearing silly hats. The women were nowhere to be seen. I felt so tired so early. I’m just not as young as I was before.

How is it that here I am, midway through adulthood, and still single? Is this what a lifetime as an NPC gardener has led me to? My most intimate moments with men, to date, are having juice thrown in my face by a delusional legacy founder and sharing a lavatory with an overly confident fellow emigrant.

There can be no lonelier place than a nightclub.

I returned home, exhausted in body and spirit.

Music was playing in the parlor. I changed into my pjs and danced in the archway until the feelings of unmet desire settled and flowed through me, like energy, like life, like the movement of the river towards the delta.


Dancing provides my one release, my one current mode of expression and unity.

The next morning, I was feeling lovelorn and tense. I didn’t even get dressed. I just went right out into the courtyard in front of our house and began introducing myself to anyone who walked by. Desperate much?


Do you think he can tell I’m tense?

I liked this one man. Cute, with a little Bohemian mustache and beard.

My flirtations embarrassed him.


“‘Scuze me. I just got a very important text.”

I went back home. Got dressed. Relaxed with more dancing. Ate a delicious brunch that Maya served up. Everything began to fall into perspective.

Desire fills a purpose–it lays out a path. If I take a forced march down that path, then it’s like forcing the Colorado river into a concrete culvert. The riparian plains become desert, and LA gets all the water.

If instead, I dance down the path, letting the rhythm of desire inform my movements, then the energy stays alive, and the land along the side of the way blooms.

We have visitors every day. Some are rather cute.


What was his name again? I really enjoyed his smile.

I often run into the same people in the neighborhood.


“Love to stay, Nicola. But I gotta go.”

When nothing comes of it, I know how to get myself back into the flow. Dance, Nicola, dance!


I forget everything when I dance except for the flow of the music.

I love to dance with Paula. Face it, I love Paula. I can’t tell if she’s into me. We are such good friends that I know that with just a few flirts, we would be lovers. But is that what she wants? I don’t want to force her into a soul-mate relationship with me if the promptings of her own heart lead her elsewhere.

And when I say that I’m looking for “the one,” I don’t feel that there is only one person who can fill that role for me. What I mean is that whoever falls into that role will be, for me, “the one.” And it’s a forever type of role, with me. So I don’t want to dally my way into that role with someone who may be dancing a path that leads elsewhere.


This bro-ette does have some sweet moves on her, though!

I met someone this morning, right in the courtyard. What was his name? I’m so terrible with names.


“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Are you new in town?”

I can’t tell you his name, but I can tell you that he listened to everything I said with such a warm and eager look.

I can tell you that he’s a goofball, he’s clumsy, and he’s family-oriented.


“It’s a little gizmo–have you seen it? About this size, fits inside the human chest, beats about 60 or 70 times a minute? Said to be the center of a different kind of intelligence? That’s where you get me–right there.”

I may not have caught his name, but he caught the few flirts that I threw out and tossed back a few of his own.

It just may be that my dance has brought me to the fertile valley, after all.