A sexting scandal can’t even compete with this wife’s racy admission about her impressive X-rated stockpile. James Weir recaps.
A sexting scandal can’t even compete with this wife’s racy admission about her impressive X-rated stockpile. James Weir recaps.
OPINION:
A Married At First Sight wife drops a sexting bombshell that fails to detonate on Monday night because everyone is too stunned by revelations of her “sex bag” – which we assume is like an X-rated version of Mary Poppins’ magical carpetbag.
But instead of being a bottomless pit that contains a hat stand, a plant and a really big lamp, this wife’s sex bag probably contains a really big … well … you can imagine.
Of course, the husband who she refuses to touch is shattered by news of the sex bag. Almost more shattered than when he hears about the secret sexts. To quote Ms Poppins: A spoonful of sugar helps the gag-ball go down.
We’re halfway through the experiment, which means it’s time for the annual retreat, where the producers book a million-dollar estate in the Southern Highlands under a fake name and then bus in the MAFS freaks to completely trash it. It’s always hilarious thinking about the unsuspecting elderly property owners flipping on the TV and slowly realising it’s their historic mansion on screen that’s being burnt to the ground by crazed husbands and wives.
Maybe keep those big glasses on as protection from flying shards.
On the first night, everyone gathers around the patio for a drinking session. It’s just like the weekly boozy dinner parties – only, out here on acres of property, no one can hear the freaks scream. … Or moan.
“If I was stuck in a jungle and they said they could bring two things, I’d bring my ChapStick and my vibrator,” Evelyn regales the ladies while sipping her pinot grigio.
Tayla decides to loudly one-up this statement as her husband, who she hates, sits within earshot.
“I’ve got the biggest sex bag! I’ve got the biggest sex bag that anyone has ever seen,” her nasally whine echoes out over the hinterland.
“Yeah, it’s amazing. I’ve got a super high sex drive. Like, my friends think I’m a freak.”
Sorry, Tayla, but you clearly didn’t meet Melissa, the horny mum from earlier in this series. She was the freakiest freak that ever did freak. Your sex bag sounds cute, but Melissa probably has a sex suitcase. Nay! A sex storage unit at Kennards Hire.
Also, what is a sex bag, exactly? Can it just be a normal bag that you fill with sex stuff? Maybe there are entry-level sex bags and they scale all the way up to more elaborate sex bags. Any day now, those Kmart Mums on Facebook are gonna start posting pics of their pimped-out sex bags. “I transformed this reusable Coles bag with nothing but PVA glue, Anko pompoms and some TLC! No hate pls, I’m really proud and just sharing to help others.”
Anyway, Tayla’s sex bag is all news to Hugo, who is under the impression his wife hates affection along with, well, everything. She refuses to walk down the same hallway as him, lest their bodies brush past each other. Clearly, it’s not an issue she experiences with everyone.
“My ex and I, we would pound-town every day. I wouldn’t even get out of bed without sex,” she brags.
Well, Tayla some of us are a little busy getting to work in the mornings and the only sexual chemistry we have time for is that shared between Sam Mac and every old lady he interviews on the streets of a regional town during the Sunrise weather cross.
Tell me more, tell me more — like, does he have a car?
Meanwhile, Hugo can hear everything. Angry and embarrassed, he wants to crawl into Tayla’s sex bag and die.
She could at least share some of the things in her sex bag.
The other wives are dying to know what happened to Tayla’s sex beast of an ex. Honestly, we kinda just assume he shut down and blew up from all the sex – like a really old computer with too many YouTube tabs open.
“Well, he messaged me the other day,” Tayla says. “Talking to me about wanting me to, I dunno … phone sex, I guess.”
The girls smile and nod and sip. No one seems to care that Tayla is seemingly sexting her ex while she’s in this experiment with a husband. We’re shocked and appalled – almost more than we are at Kmart Mum sex bags.
Evelyn gets bored of the conversation and changes the subject to the butt-dial and Harrison starts muttering from across the patio about how the butt-dial is as fake as a scam call from a random guy claiming to be your electrical provider. Meanwhile, the full gaslighting of Bronte is now complete.
“I always have his back no matter what,” she beams about her atrocious husband.
The other wives persist in trying to make her see the light and, when Melinda calls her naive, she snaps.
“Girls, I’m sorry, I walked down the aisle to Harrison – not you!” her eyes widen and her voice breaks into a shriek. “I came here to be married!”
Good god. Hide the glassware. Quick. It’s happening again!
We can practically feel the shards of glass stabbing through the TV screen.
The next morning, sunlight dapples through the hundred-year-old oak trees. There’s an ethereal feeling pulsating around the historic estate. Nothing can ruin a beauty like thi-
Huh. Not too many pixels were needed to cover everything.
As everyone starts getting ready for the girls’ and boys’ night, we find Alyssa angrily applying her make-up on the floor of the bedroom. Duncan enters and quickly senses the mood. He immediately crouches down and softens his voice, keen to see what has upset his wife.
“Are you okay?” he delicately asks.
The way she aggressively mists her face suggests she’s certainly not okay.
That’s an angry spritz.
“Since we’ve been here, you’ve literally just been with the boys,” she spits at him.
He’s confused. After all, she has spent the whole day with the girls. He tenderly reminds her of this.
“I had no idea where you were!” she glares at him in the mirror, appearing to forget they’re residing in a gated compound which makes his whereabouts rather determinable.
“I had no idea where you were until Bronte and I went for a walk and we saw you and Harrison playing tennis,” she continues to fume.
He furrows his brow. “And you didn’t wanna come over?”
She lets out a fed-up sigh. “Why didn’t you invite us over?”
“I didn’t see you walkin’ around — I was playing tennis!”
Alyssa spells out her very reasonable demand. “Give me attention! I need attention!”
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the craziest of them all.
Duncan doesn’t know exactly how to respond, so he simply apologises for making her feel that way. Uh-oh. We know that line is gonna come back to bite him.
In five, four, three, two...
“He said, ‘I heard you’re upset — why don’t you tell me yourself so I don’t have to guess!’” Alyssa rants to the other wives, wildly embellishing the he-said-she-said. “And then he said, ‘I’m sorry you FEEL that way’.”
The other wives groan.
“So he f***in’ gaslit you? Are you kidding?” Bronte rolls her eyes.
Well, Bronte, you of all people would know a thing or two about gaslighting. You’re basically charred to a crisp from being gaslit.
Bron, you’ve been so badly gaslit that you’re now gaslighting yourself.
Then Bronte clutches her glass, turns to Melinda and picks a fight about being called naive. Uh-oh. No, no, no. Put the glass dow-
OK, false alarm. She’s just taking a sip.
Phew — close call.
But potential glassings don’t scare Melinda.
“Yes, Bronte – you’re being naive,” she reiterates. “You’re not seeing the red flags right in front of your face.”
Yeah, Bronte. Listen to Melinda. She’s the CEO of a kajillion-dollar conglomerate … and she’s now running barefoot across the wet gardens of a haunted estate to go gatecrash her husband’s drunken boys’ night.
