James Weir recaps Married At First Sight series 4 episode 12

AFTER being dumped on his wedding day, this Married At First Sight groom has been mercilessly rejected all over again.

I ASSUMED there wouldn’t be a way to top the humiliation that comes with being dumped outside a pub straight after your wedding day. But, as the saying goes, when I assume, I make an ass out of Married At First Sight’s jilted groom Andrew.

After recovering from being unceremoniously ditched without warning by his first wife Lauren only a few hours into their union, Andrew has now re-entered the experiment with the also recently-single Cheryl.

He thinks everything is perfect between them. And he should. After all, Cheryl’s the one who asked the experts if she could ditch her own marriage to Jonathan and pair up with Andrew.

But on Tuesday night, all the couples are getting a dose of reality by spending a week at the husbands’ homes. And in a humiliating moment that sees Andrew expose himself like an open wound and basically re-recreate the film clip to Britney’s Sometimes, he’s rejected again by his new wife on national television.

I believe Oprah calls this a full-circle moment.

Only when she talks about it, it always seems much more positive.

Anyway.

“Up until now, the couples have been living in a bubble supported by the experiment,” show psychologist Mel Schilling informs us.

This is a diplomatic way of saying up until now the couples have been living in luxury apartments paid for by the production company that they themselves wouldn’t normally be able to afford. This has made being married to a stranger easier and things are about to get a bit more realistic now the wives are moving into their husband’s crap shacks for a week.

There’s bound to be a lot of surprises. For example, while Andy has been away marrying Vanessa, it seems a Fitness First has opened up in his living room.

Don’t ask me why Andy has a shirtless plaster mould of a man’s torso in his home.

Over in Perth, Andrew is super excited to have Cheryl at his home.

But we sense early on she doesn’t share his enthusiasm.

“There’s definitely a connection between Andrew and I, but I don’t want to put any pressure on me feeling a certain way,” she tells us. This hesitation wasn’t around when she stalked show psychologist John Aiken and begged him for Andrew’s number last week, but things change I guess.

Andrew is oblivious to this and goes full steam ahead, introducing Cheryl to his family and organising a fancy beach date.

“I’m generally not a cheesy guy, but I'm beginning to really like Cheryl,” he beams.

Then, going against his earlier claims of not being cheesy, he reads Cheryl’s palm and then pulls out his guitar to sing a terrible song he wrote about her while she was in the shower.

Cheryl — and all of us — have the same reaction. .

There’s something about the earnest, genuine gesture of a guy writing a song about you and playing it to your face that’s mortifying and gross and instantly makes you never want to see them or listen to music ever again.

After Andrew loses the ARIA for Best New Artist, he pulls Cheryl in for a kiss. She resists. So he pulls her even harder and makes their lips touch.

“I don’t want to kiss you,” she says through pursed lips and gritted teeth.

The subtitles really help enforce Cheryl’s message.

After being rejected on national television for the second time, Andrew is perturbed.

“Nah, that’s f*cked,” an agitated Andrew tells us about Cheryl’s apparent change of heart.

“It’s a little frustrating because I feel like Cheryl wasn’t into it at all. Major turn off.”

While Andrew and Cheryl have not officially broken up and may still have a romance that flourishes, I still think there’s a good chance they’ll break up and he’ll re-enter the experiment again with Scarlett.

Now, it shouldn’t come as a shock that the boys’ houses on this show are always dumps, but for some reason it does.

You know how most people have a really stylish bowl or plate on a sideboard near the front door as a place to plonk their keys down when they come home so they don’t forget them next time they go out? Well, Simon has one of those. Only instead of a nice bowl he just uses the freezer.

You can up pick this stylish key bowl from The Good Guys nationwide.

While showing Alene around his home, Simon makes a confession that actually hurts my heart a little.

“I’ve never had a lady over here before,” he admits.

I’m not saying the camouflage-themed bedspread wasn’t a dead giveaway of this fact, but there’s something about hearing him say it out loud that makes it all the more sad.

Camouflage is good for concealing your whereabouts and your sex life.

Apart from the gross bedspread, there’s some other problems festering in Simon and Alene’s relationship. Since she forced Simon to cut his perm, Alene’s been so much more into him. But Simon still refuses to let Alene know how he feels. He won’t even tell her he “likes” her.

After dinner with his friends, Simon makes a startling revelation.

“Have you slept together?” his friend with the funky statement eyewear asks him privately.

“No way,” he scoffs, as if it’s the most ridiculous question someone could think to ask a couple who’ve been together for a month.

Susan and Sean are having similar problems. Not with sex. Susan’s been running around with a glorious post-sex glow since the day after her wedding. Their issue is with geography.

They’re totally obsessed with each other, but the realisation she may have to give up her life in Perth to move to Sean’s farm in the middle of nowhere has Susan’s dreams crashing down into a giant mess like this batch of pasta smooshed into the ground that the camera randomly zooms in on at one point.

Symbolism.

Susan is not coping well with the shock of the country and is feeling out of place. Even more out of place than this Paul Frank magnet on Sean’s fridge.

So apparently Sean is a 14-year-old girl from 2004.

Susan tries to find something to look forward to and asks Sean what they should do for dinner. Sean says he’s got an assortment of frozen meals to choose from in the freezer.

“I don’t want a frozen meal tonight,” Susan replies, the word “tonight” being a synonym for “ever”.

Sean’s confused about why on earth she’d turn down such cuisine. “…But … it’s cooked properly …” he clarifies.

Realising that finding true love may come at the cost of spending the next 30 years eating weird frozen meals in the middle of nowhere, Susan jolts back to reality.

“Maybe we’re not meant to be?” she asks Sean.

Down in Adelaide, we catch up with Michelle and Jesse and Jesse’s mum.

Oh yeah, Jesse’s a 31-year-old adult toddler who still lives with mum.

Michelle finds this quality a real turn on.

“It’s a little bit weird that a 31-year-old is living with his mother,” she says, rolling her eyes all the way back to her home in Perth.

But Michelle is just being a princess.

After all, Jesse’s mum isn’t a regular mum — she’s a cool mum.

“Do you kids need anything? Some snacks? A condom?”

I don’t know what’s sadder: Simon’s camouflage bedspread that a lady has never laid her body on, or the fact Jesse’s mum went to an amazing effort to make the guest room look like a Rydges Resort/kid’s birthday party complete with the nice towels, the good soaps, lolly jars and a pinball machine.

But Michelle doesn’t appreciate the good towels or the lolly jars.

“A 31-year-old is living with his mother. That’s unattractive to me,” she says.

In Sydney, Anthony has locked Nadia in his home forever.

Now, if you thought Anthony was a treat at last week’s dinner party, you clearly haven’t seen him on the phone to Telstra bringing his poor internet connection to their attention.

It’s 30 minutes of him crapping on about a light on the router being red.

“How many times do I need to repeat the same thing? www.TheLightIsRed.com,” he spits to the operator down the phone. He wants that line to sound cool and hip, but it’s actually the lamest and most obnoxious thing I’ve ever heard.

“That woman is possibly the most painful woman that god ever put breath into,” he says, having clearly met his match.

Nadia listens on as she mindlessly rinses spinach leaves, trying to assess if jumping from the balcony and into a tree is really that life threatening.

“I just looked at him and thought, ‘Oh my goodness, who is this guy?’” she whispers to us from the closet. The red light on the router blinks in the background — acting as a warning for both the crap Wi-Fi and her terrible marriage.

Nadia wants out. And it’s understandable — she just wants what we all do: A husband who isn’t a jerk with a half-decent internet provider.

For more observations on snacks and the good towels, follow me on Twitter: @hellojamesweir