James Weir recaps Seven Year Switch series 2 episode 7

WHEN one Seven Year Switch boyfriend accosted his ex from 10 years ago, she hit him with some advice all gentlemen really need to know.

WHEN one boyfriend accosted his ex fiancee from 10 years ago on Seven Year Switch, he was slapped with a piece of advice so honest and accurate it should be printed on flyers and distributed by the government for other boyfriends to take note.

Honestly, I haven’t been affected by a conversation this truthful since I used to chuck sick days in school to watch Oprah on Channel Ten in the afternoons. And it’s all thanks to Sarge’s ex Annie.

On Tuesday night’s episode, Sarge reaches such a low point he decides to contact his ex fiancee from a decade ago, Annie, and grant her free rein to explain all the ways he was a big D during their relationship.

I think we all dream of being given such a privilege by an ex. Annie does not take the responsibility lightly and ensures she lives the dream for us all.

To be completely honest, I was quick to write off Annie when I first saw her thanks to this candid set-up footage that caught her off guard staring into traffic.

For Christ’s sake pay attention, Annie.

But my preconceived opinions about Annie did a quick one-eighty.

Annie is a total baller and dishes up the advice I wish I’d had the chance to tell every guy I’ve ever dated but have instead only told my therapist. And she does it all while digging into a bowl of pasta. She’s an icon.

Explaining his relationship with Stacey Louise, Sarge thinks he’ll come off as a good, strong guy by admitting: “What I feel about myself is I want to fix her.”

And that’s all Annie needs to lay it all on the table.

“Why? She’s not broken — don’t try and fix and help other people. Let them sort their own shit out and you worry about yourself,” she snaps at him between bites of the carbonara.

Sarge is taken aback and asks if he used to do that. At this point, Annie almost chokes on said carbonara but decides her impending slap-down is more important than potentially choking to death on television.

“Shit yeah, it did my head in!” she says mid-swallow, almost annoyed she even has to confirm that. “I just wanna be able to talk and share my day. Not have you fix what wasn’t actually broken. It’s a guy thing — it’s not just you, don’t get me wrong. If she’s asking for help, she wants your help. If she’s just talking, she doesn’t want your help — she just wants you to be a partner and listen.”

And with that, Annie nails one of the most annoying qualities a boyfriend can exhibit: Thinking you’re asking for advice when actually you’re just telling him something.

When I’m bitching about work or an annoying friend, I’m not looking for advice. I don’t want a solution. And I absolutely don’t need you to point out a silver lining. When I come home and huff that my friend cancelled lunch at the last minute and my boss tried to make me do actual work and the Coles down the road had no more of those M&M family blocks in stock, there is no silver lining to be found. There is no solution. I just want you to listen and say “that sucks”. That is all I want.

But for some reason boys don’t do this. And what started out as a conversation detailing the unnecessary minutiae of my day turns into an argument that ends with me suddenly becoming Beyonce in Dream Girls.

Annie deserves to have her carbonara comped free of charge for bringing such an annoying problem to national attention.

It’s after Annie proves she should have her own show that we remember Sarge’s experimental wife Tracey has been third-wheeling on this meeting.

We cut to her and she’s pissed no one has complimented her statement hat.

‘It’s my daughter’s’

After such a refreshing revelation, I feel like we can just end this episode right here after 15 minutes. But instead, we push on and watch everyone complete a challenge that involves them buying their real life partner a gift for $100. It’s meant to show how much they care for and understand their partner, but what it actually proves is how little they know about the one they supposedly love.

For example, Sarge contemplates giving Stacey Louise a gift certificate for a defensive driving course. But at the last minute, he decides to get her the more terrible gift of dog tags.

“I’m looking for a set of dog tags for her — one that’s really quite nice,” he tells the guy at the Mister Minit kiosk. Do I need to point out that there’s no such thing as a “really quite nice” pair of dog tags?

He adds proudly: “I don’t know how much more romantic I could’ve gotten than putting the date we met on one of those dog tags.”

Sigh. Getting the date you met engraved on literally anything else would’ve been more romantic.

Chic.

Across town, Stacey Louise is looking for a present for Sarge. And by Sarge, I mean herself.

We watch on confused as she traipses into a lingerie store.

“Hi I’m here to buy a gift for my partner but it’s for me to wear,” she tells the unlucky assistant without a hint of sarcasm.

As she browses through a rack of lingerie, Stacey Louise explains: “It could be mistaken that I’m actually buying a present for myself.” It’s an easy mistake to make, seeing as she is in fact buying a present for herself.

When the gifts arrive at everyone’s homes, it’s a surprise for all the wrong reasons.

As Stacey unwraps her present, we find out that, in addition to the dog tags, Sarge has used the left over money to buy her a crappy bamboo salad bowl.

This was $100.

She says she loves it and begins to cry.

I’d cry too but for different reasons.

When Sarge unwraps his gift from Stacey, he’s confused. I’m not even sure he knows what it is.

Woo try it on.

Sarge doesn’t accept the G-string in the suggestive nature it was gifted. In fact, he says he’s “devastated”, swears a couple of times and then storms out of the screen door.

I totally understand why he’s angry. It doesn’t even look like his size and, from my personal experience, sales assistants can be total bitches with the return policy when it comes to G-strings.

But I’m not going to give Sarge any advice or offer a solution. All I’ll say is, that sucks.

For more observations on annoying boyfriends and statement hats, follow me on Twitter: @hellojamesweir