The girl with OGA factor extending to the outer reaches of the Van Allen Belt touched me several times last week.

I don't know if those fleeting instances of physical contact did anything for her, but I got home and started scrounging through the cupboards for the meds they gave me after my last heart attack.

I also found out why it was so important for her to work in my office, not my co-worker's office. She said it's because I'm so cool.

At lunch, somehow a discussion got going about movie stars.

She said she'd be all over George Clooney like a rash. George is old enough to be her father.

But wait, there's worse.

She practically drooled over the thought of throwing Sean Connery down and screwing him senseless.

He's old enough to be her grandfather.

I'm only twice her age and she considers me cute enough to fight for a spot in my office, not my co-worker's office. And Nick is a good looking bloke in his early 20s.

We didn't do the lunch thing yesterday. For one thing, she with the OGA was moving house, nobody else was available for various reasons and the kid round the corner has gone weird for some reason and is avoiding me. I shouldn't say some reason, I'm pretty sure it's because physical evidence doesn't support the stories he's told me.

First one was saying how he gets breakfast at work provided by the company. Next day when I got a lift in with him - and the day after that - I was nursing his breakfast on my lap. So what happened to breakfast provided by work? He also told me work pays for the petrol in the car, but on the way in on day 3, we stopped off to fill the car - which he paid for with money he'd borrowed from his mum. So what's all that about? I didn't ask, but it seems pretty obvious that story 2 unravelled pretty quickly. Story 3, that the Beemer is in his name, insurance is in his name and rego is in his name is one I wouldn't be able to confirm without the help of friends in various industries. One of whom just happens to be right smack in the industry to find out with just one phone call. She works in the vehicle registration department.

What I have difficulty with is why is he lying to me? I mean, this is me! I've watched this kid grow up from 9 to 19, I helped him with his school work in his final year of high school - I'm as proud of him as if he were my own son. Hell, I love the little guy and he knows full well how fond I am of him, so why would he try to impress me by bignoting himself over his job? That's what I don't get.

And it reached its culmination last Wednesday when I rang up to ask if he was ready to leave for work and he said he was working in head office out east and wouldn't be able to give me a lift in. Then as I made my way from the station to the other side of the river to pick up the work they did over there the night before, I meet his brother walking the other way. If Andy had've caught the train, he would have caught the same train as I did. If the kid round the corner dropped him off, he'd be crossing the bridge from the other side of the river just as if his brother had dropped him off - which obviously he had - proving I could have scored a lift because he wasn't working out east at all - he just didn't want to give me a lift.

It's obvious if I'm to get to the bottom of this, I'm going to have to catch him out personally leaving him no way out but to give me a straight answer. What's the story boy?

Next week at work, the newbies are swapping offices. The bloke who shares the office with me is going to the other side of the river, the two girls on the other side of the river are going to be in the same building as me.

And the girl with the OGA got dibs on sharing my office before the other girl could get a word in.

Not having been present when the selection occurred, I have no idea how this came to pass nor what led up to it.

Anyway, next Sunday I've got a lunch thing happening. One of my old chat mates from those long ago days in mIRC is coming out to honour us with her presence. The kid round the corner has said he will come, I'm going to ask the girl with the OGA to be there as well and maybe someone else from the office - plus I'll do the old recruitment ring-around thing and see how many others I can get to tag along.

The real purpose of the thing is to get Mopster and OGA to meet and, with a bit of luck, fall hopelessly passionately in lust with each other - thereby getting me off the hook. The rest is just a smokescreen but tailored to be entertaining enough to disguise the real purpose of the event so well, that even anyone with inside knowledge - ie anyone reading this blog - would fail to recognise it for what it is.

Besides, it's my birthday so what better excuse to have a party with a few friends along.

Why the hell did the OGA girl have to be so adamant and enthusiastic about getting her arse in the seat next to me at work.

I only clapped eyes on the OGA girl a few times very briefly this week. She was in the office on the other side of the river and I had only brief reasons to be there.

Except for tonight when we had a divisional conference where my promotion as team leader hangs rudely in the air like a giant's penis about to be exposed.

There we sat in the same room for an hour while the boss went on about the tantalising developments awaiting our little group. And they are tantalising.

But every time I stole a glimpse at the OGA girl, she caught me looking. Not that it seemed to bother her, I got that OGA smile constantly - or should that be consistently - but mercifully, it's one of equality and mutual respect. Shit, she's so damn CUTE. Fuck it.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm the job........