Military camps, malaria and dysentery: How ‘a naive couple' tested their love

Sydney Morning Herald

a day ago

TV producer PJ Madam, 45, and her 43-year-old partner, Tim Noonan, a documentary-maker, put their relationship to the ultimate test. Now she stays home with their two sons (five years and 10 months) while he creates TV shows.
PJ: Last night, Tim asked me if we'll ever have sex again. I was breastfeeding at the time. I wondered, is it a male thing, needing physicality to feel the love? I need to feel the love to be physical. I need a good night's sleep and a bit of quiet, then I might be in the mood. We've worked hard at our relationship and I'm embarrassed to wonder, 'Oh, my god, after everything, are we going to lose each other through the chaos of parenthood?'
We met as reporters on Sunday Night at Channel 7 in 2013. There was an attraction, but I mostly loved how hard he worked. Maybe it's an in-built evolutionary thing: he's going to be hunting for me forever. I could see he was a solid person – stable, honest – but I'd been ­married before and I was wary; I carried a huge amount of shame.
After a couple of years, Tim decided we needed to explain our relationship to my parents; the next minute, we're in a car with them. Tim said, 'Pull over at the nearest pub, Mr and Mrs Madam, we need to talk to you. I want to be with your daughter forever.' It went so well that now I think they favour him over me! Like me, they saw a man of honour, big on telling the truth; it unlocked a lot of trust.
'We walked in infatuated, wearing rose-coloured glasses, and walked out with battle scars, able to deal with anything.'
PJ Madam
In 2016, we came up with a plan to explore relationships in remote cultures and film it as a reality show; we were the investigators. Netflix went for it; it was called Extreme Engagement. We lived with tribes in eight ­countries, including Papua New Guinea, Mongolia, Cameroon, Brazil, travelling together and ­seeing if we could make it as a couple. It was unimaginably testing.
Trekking in Mongolia in minus 40 degrees, getting malaria and dysentery and filming it all, including our fights. We shattered the novelty of the relationship. We walked in infatuated, wearing rose-coloured glasses, and walked out with battle scars, able to deal with anything.
I've been a feminist my whole life but, at the moment, Tim and I find ourselves in very ­gendered positions: he's working flat-out on his show, Hunt For Truth: Tasmanian Tiger [on SBS On Demand]. I love watching him interview people, humanise them, embrace their uniqueness; he's demonstrating how I want our world to be. At the same time, the spheres have moved for me: my body, thoughts, ­emotions are for the kids, not for us as a ­couple. It's confronting, but I'm also relishing being a mum. I have endometriosis and wasn't sure I'd have children.
Tim goes deep quickly. We're having breakfast and, suddenly, he'll ask what life is all about. There are still surprises: he'll decide we need a holiday and the next day we're on a flight. And the sex stuff: the penny dropped for me there. He's telling me what he needs. It's a flag. Life's messy, but maybe I want it to be. On my deathbed, I want to look back and think, I lived. I have that with Tim.