My Affair

Two answers for your two questions: no, I don't feel guilty about it; and yes, Andrew does know.
I've been seeing another man for about 5 months.

His name is Frank, he's 35 years old, and he works here at the university. Our connection is not a carnal or cerebral one. In fact, I'd describe our relationship as observational friendship from a distance. You see, my kitchen window looks directly into Frank's office window, and we wave to each other one time a day Monday through Friday. He sees me cook, do the dishes, bathe Evan and play with him; I see Frank stare at his computer for hours on end, always wearing the same Bill Cosby-esque jumper until his heater kicks on and he ditches it to reveal the blue button-down underneath.

We started seeing one another one evening when I was dancing around the kitchen, trying to keep Evan entertained after a long day of, well, keeping him entertained. Frank caught me mid-jig, and I looked over and saw him smiling. He smiled, I waved, he waved back, and that's how we met. We've been happy together ever since.

I make conclusions about him based on superficial evidence. For example, I believe Frank is single--he spends very long hours at work, sometimes from 10:00am-7:00pm, but that he is in the market for something loving and long-term: careful attention to covering the gray in his hair speaks of a man trying to turn the younger ladies' heads. However, this is unlikely to occur if Frank continues to dress un-smartly smart-casual. I also believe that he is quite shy, but has a gentle sense of humor: one night, as I was feeding Evan, Frank looked over at us on his way out his office door. He waved at Evan, turned the light off, then turned it back on, and smiled and waved at Evan again. It was distance peek-a-boo, a new twist on one of Evan's favorites.

I did meet Frank one time in person. It was just after the holiday season, and I was walking in Albert College Park with Evan and my brother-in-law, who was visiting at the time. I recognized the bulky khaki jacket and the navy blue beanie right away. "Excuse me," I said, "But aren't you the man I see from my window every day?" He looked at me and squinted (Frank, as it happens, also has a lazy eye), and said, rather shyly, "Yes." I introduced myself, Evan, and David a little too effusively, which perhaps explains why our conversation was brief and consisted of non-essential uninteresting details: where I was from, that at he'd worked in Chicago, etc. Sadly, I didn't get to confirm any of my judgments about him.

I haven't seen him in person since. Frank's been out of work this entire week, so I don't know if he was a temp employee or if he's on vacation with a nice nerdy girl who wears ill-fitting pants and also looks at a computer all day. But I've been looking for him because I miss him.

Frank doesn't know it, but our connection is perhaps the best illustration of how living in Ireland feels for me. I see a lot of faraway things close up, but I don't dare touch them. It's better that way: staying a bit of a stranger gives me endless opportunities to invent.