The moment I knew: he was so open and vulnerable, even as a bloke’s bloke

At 40 I was a divorced mother of two. I uprooted myself from New South Wales and headed to Alice Springs to work as a GP. A year later we were all so happy we decided to stay. Three years later, in 2007, I’d made a great group of friends who were always trying to matchmake me. One suggested I meet an old friend of theirs, the mysterious “Jungle Jim”. He was ex-air force and had four children, which, to be honest, seemed a little daunting, but I was open. As the worst of the summer heat subsided, a barbecue was orchestrated for us to get acquainted. I still remember the white skirt and orange shirt I was wearing – I felt I’d made an effort – and then in walks this fella with boots and jeans carrying a big white cooler. Twenty years later he still has them all. We sat down, chit-chatted and I thought he was cute; then he started talking about training for the Kokoda trail and taking two of his sons with him. He told me: “I just want to smell the jungle again.” And that was the first moment I thought, ‘Wow, who is this guy’? He said he recalled a scent from his childhood that he longed for; it rang true for me. There was a big Australian rules football match on TV and it was all very blokey but as the night went on my friends asked him how he was getting on after his separation. When he replied that it had been a bit rough and he’d sought the help of a psychologist I really did a double take. Related: The moment I knew: as the countdown reached one, something instinctive pulled us together As a doctor, especially back then, I knew it was rare for men to be open about mental health struggles. To me it really spoke to his self-confidence and honesty. Especially because he presented as such an alpha male. He’s loud, he’s big, he laughs a lot and yet here he was being so open about these vulnerabilities. It was a very attractive juxtaposition. As my friend and I were doing the dishes and organising the dessert I’d brought along, she asked what I thought and, before I knew what I was saying, I blurted out: “I could fall in love with this man.” This was totally out of character for me. I’d like to think I remained casual but I was bursting out of my skin. I gave him my number and waited, and waited, and waited. The following Saturday I got an invitation for a Sunday-night drink. It happened to be Mother’s Day and my parents had just flown in for their wedding anniversary. Despite the timing, I didn’t hesitate to make it work. He came striding into the pub 10 minutes late, not a worry in the world. We talked non-stop for three hours. It turned out we had so much in common, we were both born to expats, me to Indian parents in Uganda, he to Scottish parents in Papua New Guinea, both our fathers were engineers and we had arrived in Australia in the early 70s. I had an early flight for work so I couldn’t get carried away, but over the next few weeks we made time to get together for a few dates and took our kids on some adventures. He met my parents too. He charmed the socks off my mother, complimenting her home cooking as he did a few handyman jobs. He even asked her for her pickle recipe – I’ve never made pickles in my life. Again I was agape, who is this guy? We were both careful not to rush things on account of our kids but I was impressed by what a wonderful dad he was and what lovely young men he was raising. I also knew he held a high security clearance because of his job at Pine Gap, so I was confident I wasn’t dealing with a rogue character. Eighteen months later we took all six kids to Thailand on a family holiday and had a ball. Our international outlook so obviously informed the way we were raising our respective kids. We moved in together not long afterwards. In 2011 the two of us took a trip to India and the question of marriage hung in the air. We visited the Taj Mahal in the morning and I’d made assumptions, but no proposal came. I was salty for the rest of the day. But when we went back for the sunset viewing he asked me if I wanted to be his wife. Later at dinner I asked him if he was worried I’d say no. He replied: “I was more worried about what would happen to me if I didn’t ask you.” My initial feelings for Jim were so powerful and unexpected that I didn’t really trust them; I never believed in love at first sight. But all the pieces of our puzzle fell together. Jim is still a bloke’s bloke but underneath it all it’s that softness, caring and loyalty that never fails to remind me of how I fell for him over a footy match and sticky date pudding. Tell us the moment you knew Callout