The battle lines had been drawn, figurative marks in the carpet denoting where the allied areas ended and the militant zones began. In areas of office politics the best way a person fortified their position was by making friends who shared similar viewpoints. In my case I was a man outnumbered by the women in the office. My comrades were small in number – only four. Five men stacked against forty or so women. We had to band together, right? Fend off their advances and keep a professional and even-keeled sense of decorum in the workplace, correct? One for all and all for one, yes?

In my mind it was a grand design.

In reality it was quite different. While I adhered to my self-imposed rule of never dating anybody from the office, the other four men were a little…uh, weaker in matters of the flesh. I suppose it could be excused – they were used to having the attention of the women in the office. The supposed allure of holding sway over the henhouse baffled me to no end. Were these the only women in Ontario? Clearly not, as I’d run in to plenty of women while out and about who were striking. Then what was it? I spent much of the morning thinking it over while I sipped a first, then a second, cup of coffee before it dawned on me: Controlled environments. That’s why the guys pursued the women in the office. They were thrown together in a controlled environment where one group knew something about the other and were forced to interact with each other. Guards could be let down, and familiarity more easy to come by. They didn’t have to try as hard here as they would in everyday public life, comforted in knowing at work it was like shooting fish in a barrel, all potential hazards of dating co-workers be damned. Lazy bastards.

Well, except one. Martin was so lazy he didn’t even have any game. His technique was something, as I learned.

“How are things going with you and Janet?” I asked him that morning. Janet was one of the coordinators for print advertising and Martin had mentioned his lust for her often.

“They’re not,” he replied. This was the problem. Martin wasn’t one to take matters into his own hands.

“Let’s go over your method,” I suggested. “You’ve got to have game if you want to get anywhere with her.”

“I don’t. Have game, that is. That’s my game.”

“Wait a minute. You mean your game is to have no game?” I was confused.

“Yeah. By not approaching her and only talking to her rarely maybe she’ll warm up to me,” Martin replied.

“Will that happen before the next ice age? Jesus Christ, if you are going to go so far as to dip your pen in the company ink, then you can’t sit around waiting for teh inkwell to pop its top for you. Employees turn over. Your male compadres may go after her while you sit on the sidelines. Time is not on your side, Martin.”

He looked at me and shrugged.

“Besides,” I continued, “let’s say she’s into you but is herself too shy to approach you. Now both of you want each other but are too afraid to show it. That’s fucking lame.” Again Martin shrugged.

“You should consider hitting on Andrea,” Martin said, blatantly pointing out the leggy redhead occupying the cubicle some twenty feet away, near the production editor’s office door. She noticed Martin’s hand pointing at her and turned towards us briefly, revealing a quick smile. She was nice, a slender, light-skinned woman of roughly 25 who had decided to stay with her original and smallish breast size as it fit her body, not succumbing to the California mindset of bigger being better.

I waved and she waved back. I peered at Martin and he looked surprised, even frightened that I’d be so forward in my response. “Back on topic. This isn’t about me,” I told him, “and you know my thoughts on dating the office pool, so don’t change the subject. Just go up to Janet and give her a ‘hey, what’s up’ and let it go from there, okay?”

“I don’t know,” Martin responded sheepishly.

“Fine.” I got up and went for the elevators. Maybe a little deus ex machina was in order. I took the elevator down to the level Janet worked on and found her in the mini break room next to an armada of copier machines. I’d never talked to Janet before but she seemed nice enough: Black, slightly curled hair that just brushed the tops of her shoulders; smooth, brownish-olive skin revealing some sort of Latin heritage. She wasn’t slim but she wasn’t fat, and the curves seemed to be in the right places. I stared at her face for an extra moment. Cute face, there was no denying that.

“Hi Janet,” I began.

“Oh hi, I never got a chance to welcome you and talk to you a little bit. I’m so sorry, I’ve been very busy.” She put her stack of papers on the counter and grabbed two paper cups. “Tea?” she asked.

“If you’re having some,” I replied.

“I bet it’s really cool living and working in California. Better weather I’m sure. How are you adjusting to our Canadian winter?” She flashed a cutesy grin as she said this. Fuck. I’d better get the real topic at hand or she’ll get the wrong idea.

“It’s an adjustment. Listen, you know that guy in ad sales, Martin?”

“Sure, everybody knows Martin. Nice guy.” She replied. She licked her lips gently and had a slightly puzzled look on her face.

“Yeah? The kind the women here would spend a little time around the cooler talking about?”

“You could say that.”

“I feel bad for the guy. He’s had his eye on you but he’s a little nervous about asking you out for a cup of coffee. He’s no dummy; he sees how many women there are in this place and how gossip will get around. He doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable about the whole situation. And he feels bad that the women would start gossiping about you if they found out the two of you hung out a bit together.”

I tried to butter it up as much as I could so it would sound like his pussyness was due to concern about her feelings, not about him having zero balls.

She bit hook, line, and sinker. “He does?” Her eyes lit up like a pinball machine and a smile appeared. “And he sent you as sort of a...go-between?”

“Uh, yeah. That he did,” I lied.

“That’s so sweet!” she said.

“You know what would really take some of the pressure off? If the next time when you two are in a semi-private place – kinda like how we are now – you suggest to him the two of you go out for a cup of coffee sometime. That way he’ll know you don’t feel uncomfortable about him having designs on you, and he'll know you're cool with the situation.”

“You know what, I think I will. Thanks, you’re such a good guy for doing this!”

I headed back to the elevators and up to the floor where my desk was. People can be so easily manipulated sometimes, and while I felt no pride in playing matchmaker, I knew I had to kick somebody in the ass to get things going. Martin wouldn’t have responded as well, so I guessed I’d made the right choice. When the door opened I was greeted by Andrea, the woman Martin had pointed out upstairs. She smiled, her eyes flashing a shiny glint.

“Hi, how’s it going today?” she said through shiny teeth. She gently fluffed the ends of her red highlighted hair.

Fuck.