James Weir recaps Married At First Sight 2020 episode 23

A MAFS husband has treated his wife poorly on a crappy date. And it ended in an embarrassing revelation. James Weir recaps.

A Married At First Sight husband who dubbed his wife “his bitch” gets a newsflash on Tuesday night when she reveals her sexual attraction to him is not as rampant as the flock of stray ibis plaguing the swamp outside his ground floor apartment.

It’s honestly insult after insult tonight. Kaboom! More people are told they’re sexually unattractive. Kapow! Some random Russian lady breezes into a cafe and tells Lizzie she’s a bloody disaster. Kablamo! Then Mishel – who has lost her voice – gets sideswiped and is forced to whisper an argument that’s then transcribed in closed-captions just so we can understand what her point is.

But first, we head up to Cairns to take out the trash. KC is fed up with Drew’s crappy decor and decides to throw it all in the bin. And if his hot housemate came out of hiding, KC would toss her in the bin, too.

With the gross van and the smelly toys, Drew is just lucky he has biceps.

We’re not fans of humidity or share houses with furniture that has been acquired through council kerb-side collections, so we rack off down to the Gold Coast to see if Jonethen and Connie are still flailing. They are.

We meet Jonnie’s housemate and immediately txt KC to see if there’s still room in the bin because we’ve found a hat that needs to be buried in land fill.

Surely this was a dare.

Connie’s relationship is as interesting as her marine biology degree she keeps hoping we’ll ask about. Even her husband’s not into it. But the more disinterested Jonethen gets, the more attracted Connie becomes.

“I’ve got these weird new feelings for Jonnie,” Connie smiles too us. “All these doors are opening and one of those doors is sexual attraction.”

We put our hand in Connie’s face and request she no longer refer to her body parts as open doors.

“I thought we would’ve … by now,” she ventures to Jonnie, pausing and raising her eyebrows – we assume to insinuate that she thought Jonnie would’ve … walked through … her open door?

“I don’t wanna have sex just to have sex,” Jonnie says and … sure. A lot of guys don’t wanna have sex just to have sex.

“Oh … me either. I don’t wanna do it until we have that … emotional connection. Once we have that … then … 100 per cent … I’d be so into it,” Connie stumbles and we cringe again but at least she has stopped referring to her body parts as open doors.

Jonnie doesn’t know what to say, so he just rips off his shirt and runs toward the ocean. Will he return or just disappear forever? Not even he has decided.

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“I don’t have the feelings for her she has for me. I wish I never told her that I see hope in the relationship. I don’t wanna give her false hope. I shoulda kept it to myself. I can see her running with this now,” he frets as we steal the lifesaver’s four wheel drive buggy and speed off without providing him reassurance.

Connie is blinded by the hope of love. She hears Jonnie’s words and doesn’t think of them as rejection. She hears them and think’s he’s just waiting for the right time to make their relationship official. She kicks back on the beach, sips her beer and watches her husband run into the surf as she pledges to leave her door wide open.

Last time I left my door open, a junkie wandered in while I was in the shower and started going through my fridge. I’m talking about my actual front door, not Connie’s weird version. Either way, it’s not ideal.

Anyway, my point is, open-door policies – both literal and figurative – just aren’t wise. You’ll probably wind up standing in your living room wearing a towel and arguing with a junkie about whose house this is.

Down in Sydney, Aleks’s outlook on her relationship is as putrid as the outlook from Ivan’s ground-floor apartment.

Swamp-front views.

He promises a special night out for his special lady and we watch Aleks spend all afternoon doing her hair and makeup only to be shoved out onto the patio and served up a grazing platter featuring an array of honey-glazed meats from the Coles deli.

At least he took the meat folds out of the plastic baggies.

And for their next big date? He takes her to an open house he’s trying to sell. She’s also a real estate agent, so maybe this is something they can bond over. Well, apparently not. Ivan informs us that real estate agents who sell dumps in Sydney are better than real estate agents who sell dumps in Perth. We inform him real estate agents in both Sydney and Perth have to work every Saturday, so they’re both suckers.

“Aleks is a real estate agent in Perth. My marketplace is a little bit different here. I’m not a bragger or a boaster but I sell $5 million waterfronts,” he brags and boasts. “But I have no doubt she’ll be able to catch up.”

Oh, and then he goes and gives her some sexy talk.

“Here, hold the briefcase. You’re my bitch,” he tells his wife.

Ugh, what I’d give to hold a guy’s briefcase.

Well, Aleks has had it. Holding Ivan’s briefcase gives her a chance to think about her relationship and what it’s lacking.

“I stepped back and really assessed whether I see us being romantic in the future. There are aspects of our relationship we do lack and miss,” she tells him. My official tally shows this is the third formal sexual rejection of the series.

“The more I think about it, the more I realise I don’t see Ivan as a future partner. I don’t see him as a soulmate. I don’t see us romantically involved in each other. I don’t believe he is that person for me anymore.”

It only feels right that we segue into the OG recipient of sexual rejection: Mishel.

Footage of me on life support just getting through a workday.

Steve has organised a lunch with some of his mates and Mishel agrees to attend on the agreement he will not bring up their personal dramas or tell even more people that he’s not sexually attracted to her.

But promises are for losers and the first thing he does is tell everyone he’s not sexually attracted to Mishel.

Mishel can’t believe it. She starts yelling, but because she has lost her voice, it just comes out as a light wheeze. Everyone keeps telling her to speak up and she just gets even more frustrated.

“Betrayal!” she rasps, and producers need to provide closed-captioning for us and Steve’s mates to understand.

But Steve’s mates won’t cop a bar of it. This is their house and they slap down Mishel’s claims.

“That’s a really mean, nasty thing to say,” some blonde lady rouses on Mishel.

Mishel’s lost for words. And I mean that literally – we can’t hear any of the words she’s trying to say. “No one understands what I’m saying!” she wheezes.

“That’s because we can’t hear you, speak up!” we eye-roll.

We get sick of having to read closed-captions, so head down to Adelaide to see if Lizzie has been force-fed a vegetable yet.

We crash her brunch and just as we sit down, some random Russian lady breezes into the cafe and calls Lizzie a disaster. A disaster? Rude. Only we can say that! And at least we have the decency to only say it behind her back.

“I watched her in a previous season and it was a disaster in my opinion,” she snips about Lizzie.

You’re correct, but have a bit of class and just say it on the internet, like us.

Lizzie clearly hasn’t fallen victim to Seb’s health-shaming and loudly slurps on her chocolate thick shake. She remains calm and doesn’t give in to this screeching stranger who has burst into her life to hurl preconceived judgments.

It’s exactly how you should handle judgy Russians. And it’s also how you should handle junkies who walk into your house and start going through your fridge.

For more observations on honey glazed meats and throwing people’s personal possessions in a bin, follow me on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram: @hellojamesweir

Keep calm and sip chocolate malted milks.