In 2013 I was a divorcee in my early 40s in need of some financial advice. I was living in Canberra and a friend recommended a polite, plain-speaking accountant who came to town from time to time. That’s how I met David. He was a handsome, jovial fellow with sparkling blue eyes, not quite a silver fox then, but a few years my senior. At 6 foot 3 and dressed in a smart suit and tie (a weakness of mine), he certainly made an impression.
At some point between sorting out my taxes and asking where I wanted to be financially in 10 years, he noticed I was wearing hearing aids and went on to tell me what a hard time his ex-wife and stepson gave him about his hearing, and anyway, wasn’t I far too young to need them? I explained, perhaps a little curtly, that I’d worn them since I was eight so he shouldn’t be so silly as to think they’d make him look old. I had an appointment coming up with my specialist and somehow it was arranged that he’d join me.
