MAFS husband hit by diarrhoea on camera
While one wife is labelled a "pig" and summoned to her "dungeon", a Married At First Sight husband is shot down by a vicious bout of diarrhoea on national television and you better believe we hang around outside the bathroom door to make it even more embarrassing for him.
And if that experience isn't enough to destroy a relationship, another couple is toppled by a misinterpreted emoji. Ah, emojis - the hieroglyphics of our modern world are a fun mix of convenience plagued with double meanings and doubt. One rogue symbol has the power to set into motion an anxiety spiral as we screenshot the reply and pass it around the brunch table to explore its true intention.
We're into the fourth week of the experiment, and everyone's relationships are as bland and unsatisfying as these supermarket muffins.
Hayley has been feeling superior and smug about her relationship for a whole week now and she has been living off the adrenaline of giving people jumbled advice she has stolen from her fitfluencer's Instagram page. But even Dr Hayley is not immune to relationship issues.
David spent the night in a different apartment and we have to keep running back and forth down the hall to get the different version of events.
"Last night, Hayley and I were trying to watch a movie," David begins.
"It was one of those movies where there's ample amounts of fight scenes and I just turned around to David and said, 'This is a bit over the top, isn't it?'" Hayley informs us.
"Every 10 seconds, she's commenting on the movie and I just said, 'Babe, do you mind if I just watch the movie?'" David continues.
"Does this story have an ending?" we sigh.
"There was a 10 minute fighting scene. He says, 'Can you stop talking?' I said, 'Mate, do you want a tissue or a box?' Well, David lost it," Hayley raises her eyebrows.
David got so annoyed he stormed off into one of the other guy's apartments before Hayley chased him.
"I tried to … escape her. She came and she started abusing me once again," he continues.
"The next thing that came out of David's mouth was, 'Go back to your dungeon, you're a chauvinistic pig'," Hayley informs us.
We ask Hayley if all the pig dungeon talk has anything to do with their "not vanilla" sex and she assures us this is completely separate. So that explains the different hotel rooms. Wow. As Dr Hayley would say: There's no "us" in "wrong" but there is "we" in "argument", yeah?
At last night's commitment ceremony, Mishel came armed with evidence she had been collecting against Steve and, 12 hours later, she's still presenting her case.
Her main gripe is that Steve has banned her from revealing certain bits of … personal information.
"He doesn't let me say, 'I'm going to go wee or poo', I have to say, 'Use the bathroom'," she eye-rolled last night. And, look, we're not fans of Steve but we'd also rather not know the particulars.
Suddenly, Steve bolts up from the sofa and clutches his stomach. The colour drains from his face as he stumbles through the lounge room.
"I need to … go to the bathroom!" he groans. Eep. We should probably go. And by that, I mean go stand outside the bathroom door to film the embarrassing scene that's about to unfold.
Steve is still mic'd up and we hear things no one ever should hear. This, friends, is a beautiful example of karma in action. After banning Mishel from talking about her bathroom habits, the universe has forced Steve to experience his own, violently, on national television. When he eventually comes back out, he reveals the kinds of details he forbid Mishel from talking about.
"Don't go in there, Mishel. It's as loose as this cup of tea," he mutters.
Um, ew. Beyond. Obviously Steve has a strict set of rules for what his wife can say and a completely different set of rules for himself.
There's only one thing left to do, and that's Glen 20 the joint.
Speaking of things that are sterile and clinical, Jonethen and Connie are still here. They've had another fight and it's as lacklustre as all their previous ones.
"We had organised to go bowling together and he just never came home," she explains. "I got a message at 6pm when we were supposed to go out and he said, 'Sorry, I need to postpone bowling, I'm out drinking with the boys'. I was just so let down - all I did was send him a 'thumbs up' emoji. When I send a 'thumbs up' emoji, I'm pretty pissed off."
We want to tell her so many things. Like, maybe she should've organised a more interesting date that didn't involve doing a pensioners' sport. And, maybe next time, if you're insisting on communicating exclusively through emojis, maybe the "eye roll" is a better way to depict your annoyance rather than the "thumbs up". Or even that face emoji where the mouth is just a straight, unimpressed line. The "head exploding" emoji or the "angry red face" emoji also would've been ideal - both sharp, no nonsense visuals that communicate clear rage.
I love passive aggressive replies, but it's hard to capture the subtle nuances in just one lone "thumbs up" emoji. We decide to hold back on our advice just as Connie begins giggling uncontrollably and rocking back and forth. Suddenly, she picks up and runs away. No one can find her - she's missing for hours. We text her and ask if she's OK. "Just send us a 'thumbs up' emoji if you're safe," we beg.
There's only one person who can handle this mess, and that's Connie's judgy mum Rina. That's right, we called in the big guns.
Last time we caught up with Rina, she made it clear she despised this show and hated Jonethen. Has she changed her tune?
"No. Not at all," she snips.
And does she think there's any way Jonethen could be right for Connie?
"No, no I don't. No. No," she states.
Connie finally resurfaces after her hours-long disappearance and tells everyone about the "thumbs up" emoji.
Of course, Rina doesn't hold back and informs her daughter she should use less ambiguous emojis, like the "face palm".
"If you're really unhappy in this Connie, come home," Rina informs her daughter, in an attempt to bust her out of what I'm pretty sure she thinks is a cult. "Con, get your stuff. Let's go."
But Connie doesn't budge. She says she's fine. But we all know the word "fine" is riddled with passive aggressive double meanings, just like the "thumbs up" emoji. You're on your own, Connie.
We put on our hazmat suits and head over to Mishel and Steve's place. He's crying. He says it's because he misses his son who hasn't flown over to Australia to visit him, but it's probably also because he's delirious from the gastro and desperately needs a Hydralyte tablet.
Between the crying and the diarrhoea, Mishel has seen a side of Steve she likes. She appreciates his vulnerability. And by that, I mean she has the upper-hand. In fact, most of Australia has the upper-hand with Steve - we've seen him endure gastro on TV.
"That's intimacy," Mishel says.
Indeed. Maybe even a little too much.