It's just a little crush

I realise that at nearly 30, I should be able to refrain from bumping into the office stud and then running back to tell my gal pals about it. But in this case, an up-close-and-personal encounter with the 40-something Asian Aussie with the ridiculously thick, hand-run-through-able hair is cause for celebration.

It’s not often you find a guy – especially in our office – who quite so perfectly fits his suit jacket, yet manages to be totally unaware of just how good he looks (or are we biased?).

He must know something’s up – the number of times Dolly has messaged “HELLOOOO” and I’ve SNAPPED my head up is getting a little embarrassing. We’ve managed, on a number of occasions, to be looking at something really fascinating on someone else’s desk so that we can stare longingly towards his desk... It’s hard to remember, sometimes, that we’re not freshly hormonal tweens. Or pregnant.

The other day I went into the pantry to wash my mug. Hottie McAussie was in there, heating up his homecooked lunch (hate his wife). I needed paper towels, but there were none left in the dispenser, so, hero that he is, he grabbed the spare roll from on top of the microwave. And pulled off a sheet for me. SWOON.

Granted, I read this back and realise quite how pathetic I sound. But then I play back the memory and I really don’t care.

Right, I’m off to see if he has the charcoal grey suit pinstripes on today...

He's on to me.

The other day Paul Newman, a very distinguished and truly old (looks 70?) old man who sits several feet across from me was looking ESPECIALLY dapper. And I think he knew it. He had on a skinny blue tie and his usual crisp white shirt that illuminates wrinkles and baby blues. It was all very nice.

So nice that without realizing it, I was staring. Suddenly he looked up, but by now it was too awkward for me to look away. So I kept staring. He kept staring back. I think we stared at each other for a good 3 seconds (half a lifetime) before my youth caved. I have not really looked at him since, even though I have to go out of my way not to look at him again. Sad.

Talent scouting

Sometimes a girl's just gotta perve. And, if she's stuck in the office for nine hours a day, the only way this is possible is to talent scout at work.

Believe me, this is harder than it should be.

Far from a newspaper office being full of luscious lovelies, hot bods and gorgeous-but-geekies, we have a choice of loud, annoying, pot-bellied, balding, fatally dull and inappropriate.

That is, until we realised the Mature Gent potential.

This blog is testament to the unexpected hotness of the over-40s, and the inappropriate ogling we manage to get done on a daily basis. (Or hourly.) And the unnecessary tizzies we get into when one of them holds the door open for us...

Watch this space if you, too, spend your working day in wonderment over the attractiveness of men not-quite-old-enough to be your dad, but nonetheless too old to really be poster boys.

Maybe this is just a sign we're actually old enough for real men.