I totally get what you are saying and I think there's no doubt that "hiding the sausage with other folks" means a sexual relationship with someone other than your spouse.
I guess I was just wondering why you chose phrases instead of the actual words. Like I said, some people just talk like that.
You may have a point. But I would say that the crude image of the phrase I used is actually more "fact-facing" than throwing your pile of deodorized syllables at it. So which one of us is covering up with euphemisms? You tell me.
When you really think about all of the decisions and assumptions a cheater makes in a long term affair, your decision shouldn't surprise anyone, least of all your parents.
Long-term or short-term don't make the difference, as far as I'm concerned. The wife got so whiny this morning that I said, ok, 5 minutes to speak your piece and that's the last I want to hear. She tells me that the actual bed affair was only going on for a couple of weeks, it's only the emails that have been going on for longer and most of them aren't even affair material, and the reason she left the house in a hurry on what turned out to be D-day was really to tell him that it was a mistake and over. She begged me to read all the emails going back to the beginning. She truly did not understand that even if her story were true, it wouldn't make things any better.
This morning early, I went through the computer we share and deleted every picture I could find which had both of us in it. Then I packed up all our old photographs from our dating and courtship days, all the wedding things, all our love letters. I took it all up off the route and built a fire. If it wasn't something that would burn, I broke it. The plates, the lovers' cups, the teapot, the little porcelain bells, I just took my sledge short-arm and turned them into talcum powder, let the wind blow it away. I thought it was going to be painful in some way or another, but it wasn't - I actually started to feel lighter. All the memories that came up - bringing her breakfast-in-bed on those plates our first morning married, the love poem I somehow managed to scrawl when I was being jostled about in a seaplane, how she looked on our wedding day.... it was all like it happened to someone else, then it all started fading somehow. It occurred to me that maybe the reason people can't forget painful things is because they try to separate out the good from the bad, try to hold onto one and drop the other. But memories are not divisible that way. Have to take them the way they are or surrender them completely.
I got home and the kids were watching TV while the wife was sitting in the kitchen and staring out the window. I packed her grip and told her, it's enough, you're not helping things here and it's time for you to go to him. No need to sneak anymore, you can sleep in his bed, he can tune your engine day and night and you can start preparing for playing house. Time to get out and live by daylight like the rest of us. She waited a moment, took the grip and left, could barely look me in the eye. I thought, bingo. I don't know what or who you are but I know what you want. So that's resolved. I don't plan to lord it over my folks (or hers, for that matter) but can now get some peace and quiet, I think.
After all was said and done, I remembered that the English call the day after Christmas "Boxing Day." And I thought that was appropriate. I'm taking the last bits of refuse from this mistake and boxing them up neat for the trashman. Next thing to go is this house and that puts paid to her.
There's obviously still some legal stuff to resolve but I figure that if I haven't found closure yet, I think I'm very close to it.
How are you children coping?
Just fine, I think. Thanks for asking.