Two partners storm off on Thursday night and appear to end their marriages just days into the experiment. On this show, the only thing that won’t abandon us is Poppy’s pimple. That zit is in it for the long haul.
We take a break from all those boring weddings and instead spend the evening enduring boring honeymoons. This episode is literally the same thing as people trying to show you hundreds of their holiday photos. Watching sad people do tourist activities in regional areas of Australia is not fun.
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We’re about to change the channel when, finally, something compelling happens.
“I really need to get my hair extension fixed,” Vanessa shares while rock-climbing with Mikey.
We immediately put the remote control down and keep watching in case we get to see footage of the manky hair extension. Natasha then starts listing her health and wellness routine.
“Botox, fillers, fat freezing, teeth bleaching, solarium. And every night before I go to bed I inject my melanotan,” she shares and, I mean, who doesn’t?
Every week I breeze into my local salon and demand the Power Woman Combo Deal. It’s fun just to make a day of it.
Mikey starts freaking out and he’s not sure if he’s into Vanessa anymore. But he really shouldn’t worry. Even if he doesn’t like her, who cares? It’s not like he’ll ever see her — she’s too busy getting lasered and bleached and being a lab mouse for other services not yet approved by the Therapeutic Goods Administration.
All of a sudden the rock climbing instructor — who’s, like, 80 and shouldn’t be climbing cliffs himself let alone be responsible for guiding others — offers some sage advice.
“It’s about more than just looks, isn’t it,” the old man says as he struggles to hold the rope that’s preventing Vanessa from plunging to her demise.
Anyway, they make it back to the hotel and do something really gross: they lay on the weird fur rug that’s on the hotel bed. I would not let my body touch that fur. My idea of torture would be if someone restrained me and rubbed that fur in my face.
Poppy’s still a wreck about her pimple. It has now scabbed over and we’re just waiting for it to fall off and heal. To make matters worse, producers look through her application form and see she listed “heights” as her number one fear. So they trap her in a hot-air balloon and blast it up into the sky, just for kicks. It’s really not Poppy’s week.
Over on Daydream Island, Amanda and Tash are ironically weathering a nightmare. Tash has decided she’s no longer into her wife and producers keep trying to make Amanda seem really horny.
“I think it’s only a matter of time before she becomes an Amandasexual,” she says of Tash.
It’s just not working out. Amanda is a friendly golden retriever and Tash is a bitter little sphinx cat. I’m usually the bitter little sphinx cat in my own relationships, so I totally relate. The nicer a guy is to me, the more I hiss for no reason.
“There’s no spark. I’m not feeling it,” Tash sighs to us. “I was acting a certain way at the wedding. But now, I’m not attracted to her.”
Tash sends Amanda to the pool and says she’ll meet her there in a few minutes, but then looks the door of the villa and ditches Amanda for three hours while she stares at the wall in peace.
“I’m actually quite sunburnt,” Amanda cries to us.
When Tash does finally arrive at the pool, she ignores her wife and refuses to talk. Amanda is hurt. Hurt and burnt. She storms off and they ignore each other until dinner where Tash publicly rejects her.
“Just be brutally honest. Are you not attracted to me?” Amanda demands to know.
“I don’t feel overwhelming chemistry. I don’t. It’s not to do with your looks. I just don’t feel chemistry right now,” she states.
Amanda is winded. Tears roll down her cheeks and it’s heartbreakingly sad. But then it’s made even sadder when Amanda books a separate room and we all stand by watching her trying to open the door while also carrying all her luggage but she can’t get a good grip on the doorknob and then, when she finally does get it to open, it slams back shut on her. It probably wasn’t helped that we giggled the whole time.
Anyway, the next day they try enjoying an alfresco breakfast together but it ends with Amanda scream-crying, “If we’re done, we’re done! Are you done? Do you wanna just walk away?!” and I’m certain the Daydream Island marketing department is just thrilled they sponsored this.
Back on the mainland, Cathy sits on a jacuzzi jet stream.
And over in Singapore, Hayley finally tells David she’s an ex-drug addict and he doesn’t bat an eye about her past. This is the kind of unconditional acceptance Hayley dreamt of. She has found someone who can leave judgments and prejudices at the door.
But then Hayley finds out David only earns 25 bucks an hour as a truck driver and, ironically, she judges him. It’s just a fun little somersault we never anticipated but are absolutely grateful for.
“I said to you, I’m driving a truck. And I earn $25 an hour. And I’m happy,” he explains over dinner. “Your exact words were, ‘Darl, your $25 an hour wage ain’t gonna cut it for me’.”
She flat out denies it and the argument descends into a spiral of he-said-she-said. Wow. If only this were a reality show where these people were filmed by cameras capturing their every word — then we’d have an undeniable record of who said what. Oh well!
“I know what I heard! I was cut deep!” David pushes on.
And, like the best arguments, it explodes into a fight about things that aren’t even related to the initial issue.
“I said a deal-breaker for me is smoking and I’ve seen you smoke a few times,” he tells her.
“You said if it’s a deal-breaker for me, you wouldn’t smoke anymore. But then you bought a pack of cigarettes and continued to smoke.”
“I’ve had, like, three cigarettes and it’s because I’m drinking!” Hayley retaliates.
“You had four or five cigarettes at dinner the other night!” he yells back.
“I had THREE at dinner and ONE downstairs! FOUR in FOUR DAYS. I’m not a full-time smoker!” she insists.
It’s just a real meeting of the minds.
“I’m at the point where if I was handed a ticket to the airport, I would run to the airport until my feet bled,” David screeches.
He’s so hurt he demands a separate hotel room and chucks his wedding ring on the table before throwing out the condoms he bought.
He doesn’t even tell Hayley goodbye. She grabbed her wine glass and stormed off from the dinner table — none of us have seen her since. Where could she possibly be? Probably outside having her fifth cigarette in four days.
For more observations on sphinx cats and jacuzzi jetstreams, follow me on Twitter and Facebook: @hellojamesweir