My National Man of Mystery (NMOM)

fireworks

My husband spends an inordinate amount of time working on national security cases in Ottawa. His legal work is “top secret” which means that he can’t even tell me the location of his office. I try to probe like any self-respecting wife about what he does far away from home (and with whom)—but his stock responses are, “That’s confidential,” “That’s classified, “or “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

I have come to refer to my husband as my national man of mystery (NMOM).

This week, I decided to come check things out for myself. I thought it would be fun for NMOM and me to spend some quality time in the nation’s capital. I arrived at the stunning Chateau Laurier where NMOM was staying. He met me in the lobby and we walked over to the concierge to obtain an extra room key.

NMOM to the concierge: Hello. I had mentioned that someone would be joining me for a few nights.

Concierge (looking at me with a twinkle in her eye): And, would this be that someone?

I felt like I needed to justify who I was, lest she thought I was NMOM’s mistress—or worse. I wanted her to know that I was a good girl, here on legitimate spousal business. But saying something like, “Yes, I am so happy to be joining my husband in your splendid hotel” just sounded needy.

Then it occurred to me, that even if I had joked that I was NMOM’s mistress, the concierge would have looked me up and down and said, “Darlin’, those grey roots, and sensible shoes aren’t exactly what mistress dreams are made of.” No, I don’t look like anything other than a middle-aged wife.

But while I may not look it, I’ve been feeling rather mistress-like these past few days. Waking up in a King-sized bed with crisp sheets, starting the day with delicate salmon crepes and perfectly dissected grapefruit, and having the entire day to myself while NMOM disappears into the national security trenches.

When NMOM emerges at the end of the day, he wines and dines me at his favourite restaurants, and leads me along the Rideau canal for romantic evening walks. I don’t think I am telling tales out of school when I say there were fireworks before bed. (It was Canada Day after all, and we watched the most magical display from the terrace of the hotel.)

While this week has been a tremendous amount of fun, it is time to extricate myself from NMOM’s life here. I came for a glimpse, a peek into his world that is separate from mine. But I don’t want to be enmeshed in it. I like that that my NMOM has a double life that is mysterious. It adds to the intrigue.

Tomorrow, I drive home alone.

Photo credit-Flickr/Zhu

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