Secret Diary of a Sifter

He had an antique satchel

Although he argued for the fact that it was an antique doctor’s bag.

There is a very nice drinking establishment in the city I live; it is a boat which sells cider, the seats are very comfy and the atmosphere is most delightful. It is the kind of place that you go for a nice quiet drink with friends despite the fact it is often quiet busy.

I was stood outside having a cigarette and a gentleman came towards me and asked to borrow a lighter. It was then that I noticed his lovely bag, so I asked him about it. He assured me that it was antique, 1872 to be precise, rather than “retro” or “vintage”. He shared the same distaste for such things as I do.

Discussion of his antique bag moved on to architecture. He knew a ridiculous amount about the Victorian Gothic Revival; I was most impressed. I don’t think I’ve bumped in to someone that interesting for a long time. We chatted for at least 5 hours solid and he invited him back to his to extend the time further.

We stayed up until 6am talking about anything and everything whilst drinking tea, from a Sheridan silver plated set I’ll have you know. He was a student so I have no idea how he afforded all of these fabulous things but he claimed that it was all about where you looked for things.

It didn’t even cross my mind to sift him because a) I thought that I could have actually been friends with him and b) I thought that he was as gay as a warm July morning.

But it happened, as these things do, and I actually regret that it did because, once one has become a siftee they cannot progress to friend status. He seemed to think it would be plausible but it, frankly, isn’t the way I role.

She turned out to be my housemate’s ex

Usual night out, nothing special planned, just a drink and a dance with some friends. I was introduced to a friend of a friend in a passing fashion as you often are during such evenings. This friend of a friend, however, was worth far more than a vague wave of greeting. Seats were running short so we squished up on a sofa to give her some perching room; she sat next to be and she smelt absolutely amazing. I am a sucker for a sweet smell.

Some how the conversation of the group got on to sex and sexuality, someone mentioned how boys should like girls and girls should like boys, a small minded incredibly dull and wrong idea in my opinion, so I piped in with the idea that we should just like people, it doesn’t really matter what shell they come in. Friend of a friend seemed really surprised by this idea so asked me to elaborate. After this we were chatting for the rest of the evening.

It came to the end of the night and we were still in full conversation, someone jokingly said “Why don’t you two go and get a room” to which I smiled and said, expecting a chortle in response, that mine wasn’t all that far but to my surpised friend and friend said “Lets go then”. I wish everything was always that easy.

She seemed pretty sweet so she stayed the night - this is an honour it must be noted as I’m not usually up for waking up next to a siftee; I like to get it all done and dusted before the sun comes up so to speak. She woke up before me so pottered in to the kitchen to grab a glass of water or something, waking me up when she got back which created the need for coffee. In the kitchen I found my housemate who looked really confused and said to me “Why was my ex girlfriend just in the kitchen?”. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such an awkward silence.

She was creepy as hell

I confess to the fact that I am a creeper. I lurk people on the internet, I say inappropriate things, I stare at people without really considering that it is a little odd and, often, my thoughts are improper. I’m not alone in this, my friends are creepers too, and I’m down with this. We’re not too far along the creeper spectrum but this siftee, who will now be referred to as Creeper, really was.  

I am not only a creeper but I am a creature of habit too. I usually tend to get on the same timed bus in to town, I like to go to the supermarket on a particularly day and such things. There is another such creature of habit that lives near me. We’re often on the same bus, frequently see one another in the fruit section etc. I had noticed that she stared a lot, lip synced to her iPod and liked to rearrange her bag. These things must have been pretty obvious as, usually, I’m absolutely oblivious to everything. They were also quite endearing acts.

After smiling at one another, exchanging hellos during our collisions for some time she sat next to me on the bus and struck up conversation. Even at this stage she revealed herself to be a fully paid up member of the Creeping Society but, for some reason I didn’t really pay much attention to that as she was also really interesting. Such chats carried on for the next few times we met and, still, I chose to ignore her fairly blatant creepiness.

I bumped in to her on the bus again on a Saturday morning and she invited me to a “gathering” she was having at her house that evening. I had little else to do so I agreed although, I must admit, rather apprehensively, not because of her but the potential of the oddities which would be her friends.

I appeared at her house that evening, bottle of wine in hand, for what I thought would be a rather amusing event. I arrived a little late in the hope that everyone would be on the road to drunk already so, if it was dreadful, I could slip away without anyone noticing. Standing on the doorstep I knocked on the door, however, I noticed a certain lack of sound, no music, no chattering people. Perhaps I had the wrong house. I looked about but there was no sign of activity in the street at which point the door opened and there was Creeper.

There were two other people there. I had thought that “gathering” was simply used to down play party but, in this case, it was up playing a socially inept group of people. Dreams of slipping away were squashed, I couldn’t leave in the subtle manner which I had hoped for. I pitied poor Creeper for her lack of friends, or even people wanting to get wasted in a convenient location under the guise of her friends. So, the wine and I proceeded to acquaint ourselves, and Creeper climbed closer and closer in to my personal space.

I’m pretty sure that pity is not a valid reason to sift someone but this poor girl just wanted some kind of human attention so I obliged. It was all very awkward, especially when she asked if I minded calling her Patrick. It would seem as though I am drawn in to empathy when I’ve consumed wine; for this reason, I now avoid wine unless I am with company who I know I can’t pity or sift.

He spoke a dead language

I work in a little shop on a fairly small campus so I come to recognise a lot of people as most folks come in near enough everyday. One guy always comes in with his friend and they seem like complete opposites. I think that this contributed to his appeal as he was polite, smelt delightful, well spoken and his friend seems to be none of these things thus, through contrast, his qualities were amplified.

Over a couple of weeks, I noticed that he always seems to scold his friend in Latin or gift him with thoughts of wisdom in said language. I learnt a small amount of Latin in school and I’ve always found it to be fascinating - I like the fact that there is very little use in it practically so it is learning for the sake of learning which I really love/admire. So, obviously, this boy is of interest.

As I said, people come in to the shop regularly and I tend to have a chat with everyone else my day would be super dull. Gradually chats with Latin boy became longer and longer until he took to bringing me coffee (always a good thing) to chat over. He asked me out for “dinner” and I explained that I don’t really do dates, instead he suggested a Latin only Scrabble tournament at his house (as with coffee, Scrabble is always good). This was clearly something that I could not resist.

I went round to his house and realised a) how little Latin I actually know b) that I can make up Latin words pretty damn well and c) just because you know your salve from your salvete it doesn’t mean your skills translate to your salacious prowess.

I’m pretty sure he was aware of the fact that he was a bit of a let down, he no longer frequents the shop when I’m working. And so Latin boy became a siftee (one who is sifted) and needless to say, he shall not be sifted again.

Androgyny

Saturday night at the gay club, £20 all you can drink. I was behind her in the bar queue and she elbowed me. Whilst she was apologising profusely, I tried to work out if she was a boy or a girl. Either way, she was attractive. I bumped into her again a couple of hours later in the queue for the unisex toilets; I still didn’t know if she was a boy or a girl. We chatted for half an hour, then I went home with her.

Her kitchen was clean, but not too clean. Her bedroom gave me no clues either. The toilet seat was down, but I still wasn’t sure. My interest was piqued. She was like a Christmas present - I didn’t know what was inside until I unwrapped her.

She turned out to be a she, but when I found that out, I lost interest. The thrill for this girl was in the undressing. I said I would call her but there was nothing interesting about her when she stopped being an enigma.