A Married At First Sight husband is left fuming when his naked wife ambushes him with her boobs in the middle of the night.
Stop giggling. This is serious. Monday night’s booby bushwhack introduces an important talking point that will no doubt be discussed for decades by first-year university students in gender studies classes.
The moment even spawns a defiant slogan that should be screen-printed on feminist slogan T-shirts: “You’ve got boobs as well!”
JAMES WEIR RECAPS:Read all the recaps here
Let’s cut to the chase. We’ll start with the boob storyline first, right up top – front and centre, like … well … boobs.
We find Lucinda and Timothy in the dining room of their suite at Trash Tower. There’s tension in the air. Morning sunlight dapples through the dirty glass of the balcony’s sliding doors and the sound of garbage trucks gobbling rubbish echoes up from the street below, filling the awkward silence.
“I don’t feel good. I don’t,” Tim confides in us.
His voice is shaking. He’s hesitant to reveal why. Mainly it’s because he doesn’t quite know how to articulate what he has just endured. The past 24-hours has been rough.
It’s officially “sex week” in the experiment and all the couples are given racy challenges that push their limits of intimacy. This is tough for anyone, but especially for Timothy and Lucinda. To use the kind of vocabulary usually favoured by Lucinda, their chakras and inner lights just aren’t aligning. She’s a Byron Bay sex goddess. And he has a sex phobia. That’s why he has been rejecting her for weeks. Apparently, it all became too much last night. Lucinda decided to take matters into her own hands instead of leaving it up to the spirit guides.
“I think she thought because we’re getting along so well, and because it’s intimacy week, let’s ramp it right up,” Timothy recalls. “And I climbed into bed. And she rolled over … and she said, ‘I hope you don’t mind, I don’t have a shirt on’.”
Producers didn’t catch this moment on film which is unfortunate because, if they did, they could’ve scored it with that screechy violin music from the shower scene in Psycho.
Now, in the harsh light of day, Timothy eats cold pizza for breakfast and avoids all eye contact with his wife.
“Last night was lovely,” Lucinda purrs, breaking the silence. “Are you OK with me? Did I do something to upset you?”
Timothy tosses the stodgy crust of his Dominos meat lovers onto the table.
“Just … maybe come to bed with a shirt on,” he spits.
Lucinda looks like she has just been told her naturopath isn’t a real doctor.
“You know, that was a bit rude, Tim,” she declares.
For dramatic effect, she grabs the thick woollen throw rug off the sofa and wraps it snugly around her body, lest one of her boobs be accused of escaping and lunging at Timothy.
She then launches into a monologue about double standards and how Tim has been sleeping in his jocks every night while she has been quietly suffering in pyjamas.
“(But) Last night, I decided to be topless,” she says triumphantly. “And have my boobs out – which I’m very comfortable with. It sounds like you’ve asked me to pop my shirt on which I’m very happy to do respectfully – and I ask the same of you. I’ll leave that with you.”
The confrontation cracks Lucinda’s spiritual veneer and her tone shifts from enlightened to passive aggressive. Swathed in the blanket, she exits the room. And, moments later, she calls back with one more dig.
“You’ve got boobs as well!”
Meanwhile, down the hall, things are absolutely normal.
Lauren and Jonathan are cupping each other’s genitals:
And Jack’s trying to convince his wife Tori that she should enjoy a nice warm … golden shower.
“Massive ick. Ugh!” Tori shudders while discussing their bedroom kinks. “Buddy, let’s pump the brakes. Absolutely not.”
Oh, grow up, Tori. Just let him chuck a wazz on ya leg and move on.
While Jack hopes to take a piss, Collins is more focused on taking the piss. He’s still doing a terrible job at convincing us he’s attracted to his wife.
“OH WOW YOU LOOK GOOD AND YOU SMELL GOOD! JUST … WOW … EVERY MOMENT I SEE YOU I AM HAPPY,” he hams it up.
By now, Natalie is sick and tired. Yes, she came on this show hoping to find a partner who’ll sit with her in matching his-and-hers beanbags in front of the PlayStation. She dreamt of being paired with a ride-or-die Player 2 in Mario Cart. But if this is who she has to tolerate then she’d rather cruise around the dark streets of Grand Theft Auto alone.
“This feels like an Oscars performance,” she smacks down her husband’s fake compliments.
Oh, Natalie — Oscars? Pah-lease. Try Logies.
“I don’t feel I can build a romantic connection with you,” she says. “I do not see a future. I can’t see us forming an emotional and romantic connection. It is time for me to go.”
She packs up her PlayStation and leaves.
Collins, committed to the role, attempts to fake cry … again.
“I don’t think he’s devastated that his time with me has ended. I think he’s devastated that his journey has to end because I have said we’re done,” Natalie snips. “I think, if he could, he would stay on the experiment on his own.”
Yes, this decision is heartbreaking for her. But, just like Crash Bandicoot being eaten by one of those really big cartoon Venus fly traps, she knows she will reincarnate and start again.