From my email inbox:

After a Southern man moved from Atlanta to a New Jersey suburb, a

fellow passenger on a train asked how he liked it in the country.

“It was difficult at first,” the man replied, “but it’s a lot better since I

got myself a paramour.”

The passenger was astonished.  “A paramour?” he said.  “Does your wife


“Sure”, said the Southerner.  “She doesn’t care how I cut the grass.”
Paramour: an illicit lover