Because Married At First Sight contestants aren’t tortured enough, they’re forced on Tuesday night to rank each other from hottest to … not-est — and we assume the experts are just days away from implementing other self-esteem crippling tabloid magazine games from the ‘90s like “who wore it best?” and “stars without makeup!”
What a terrific way to build healthy morale in a group. Try playing Hot Or Not in your workplaces tomorrow!
JAMES WEIR RECAPS: Read all the recaps here
JAMES WEIR RECAPS: X-rated admission about other MAFS wife
“We’re about to reveal a monumental addition to this year’s experiment,” the voiceover booms.
“Qualified experts?” we reply.
Nope. It’s just confession week. In the past, only one day has been dedicated to raw confessions and honesty. But that’s not fun. Why just allow 24 hours for everyone to insult each other with their truth-bombs when we can stretch it out over an entire week?
The first order of business in confession week is simple: Hot Or Not. Envelopes containing the headshots of all the grooms and all the brides are distributed to each contestant. The task? Each person must rank the contestants of the opposite sex in order of who they’re most attracted to, all the way down to who they’re least attracted to … including their spouse.
“This *could* have polarising consequences,” expert John Aiken observes.
It’s cute that you’re acting like there’s just a *slight* chance some contestants will be crushed after being told they’re not hot, Jonathan.
So, without further ado, these dead beats start ranking each other.
Bryce and Melissa are up first and we just know how this is gonna play out. It was only a few days ago that Melissa was left heartbroken when Bryce informed her she’s “not his type” before softening the blow with the comment, “You’re not … ugly?”
True to form, Bryce wastes no time in ranking people’s hotness.
“She’s last — only because she’s the oldest,” Bryce slaps down the headshot of Beth, 39.
“Annnnd, I don’t normally go for girls with curly hair,” he whacks down the photo of Belinda near Beth, the elderly woman.
“And, look, I know Jo’s a lot older as well but …” he furrows his brow as he assesses the headshot.
The insults keep coming.
Booka? “Not a fan of girls with tattoos.” Kablamo!
Samantha? “I can tell the hair’s really fake looking.” Take that, Samantha and her hairdresser!
He places The Sasshole as number one, even though she’s “not his type” either.
And now it’s time to rank his wife, Melissa. She’s holding back tears and quietly prepares for the blow she’s about to cop. What’s it gonna be? He’ll give her a crap ranking and then criticise her toenails or something. We wish we could take the bullet for her and give him photos of us to rank instead.
“Can you not look where I put it?” he asks.
Oh. Sorry this is so uncomfortable for you, Bryce.
With all the grace and sympathy he can muster, he plonks Melissa’s headshot down in the middle — fourth place, after the chicks with tattoos and fake hair he hates so much.
“That’s a kick in the guts,” she whispers. “I don’t even know what to say.”
You don’t need to say anything, Mel. Now’s the time to exact revenge with your own rankings! That’s the beauty of playing Hot Or Not. Sure, your self-esteem gets shattered. But then you get to shatter someone else’s! And the wheel goes ‘round.
“I’m very curious to see where I fit in,” he smiles.
But she takes the high road and ranks him in the number one spot. Boo! Melissa, no one gets anywhere on the high road. As Michelle Obama said: When they go low, you go lower!
“I feel sick after seeing what she picked. I feel like the worst human being in the world,” Bryce confesses.
Oh Bryce. You’re not the worst person in the world. You’re just a sasshole. Minus the sass.
Meanwhile, Coco’s still getting sledged by her husband Sam. After dissing her boobs, criticising her personality and describing her as “longwinded”, he’s now being given the opportunity to rank her in the Hot Or Not challenge.
“I think, to a girl, when a male doesn’t find them attractive, it hurts them,” he wisely observes. “For women, there are a lot more hormones and that sort of stuff. So, it definitely stings them a lot more than a male.”
Thanks for mansplaining women, Samuel.
He ranks the women as per the task and then slots in Coco at fourth place before stating yet again he’s not wild about her body.
Coco fumes silently. Not even her beloved Pop Smoke sweatshirt can calm her down.
She’s furious at the constant barrage of rudeness and disrespect. Will she cruise along the high road with Melissa? As if. Like us, she’s a believer in the wisdom of Michelle Obama.
“Maybe it’s time to show him what I think of him,” she smirks.
DO IT.
“I will always go personality and respect and kindness over everything,” she tells him while carefully ranking the headshots. Jake leads in first place, followed by that hipster guy. She’s the only person to not rank Russell in the bottom tier.
Holding her husband’s headshot in her hands, she delicately slides it into sixth place – in the bottom four.
He goes full-blown Cyclone Cyrell.
“Coco put me bottom four! I think that was a little childish. She’s offended I don’t find her very attractive. She’s got emotions to deal with. This isn’t easy for her,” he tells himself.
Oh, yeah. It’s because she’s got all those hormones and emotions. That’s the only reason you’re ranked so low.
But it’s true. Coco wasn’t being completely honest.
“I would’ve put him last if I was being honest,” she admits.
Sam’s furious. Humiliated! Hours later, he still can’t let it go.
“When we did the hot or not rating …” he begins. “Putting me bottom four, I don’t think that’s where you really would’ve put me. You put me under Rusty.”
Coco can’t believe this. He has dissed her boobs and mocked her catchphrases for far too long.
“You think you’re allowed to rip on me for two weeks? I have not said one negative thing about you,” she tries hard not to get angry. “I have never ripped about your personality. I have never ripped about the things you say to me. I have never, ever said anything about your physical appearance. You can’t rip on every essence of everything I am. And the one day I put you in a line up? Don’t say I was taking a cheap shot.”
She packs her leopard print duffel bag and leaves.
“Do you not like my physical appearance?” he squints as the door shuts.
The answer doesn’t come. He is left alone. With no extra pair of hands to help with his Clairol at-home box rinse.
Twitter, Facebook: @hellojamesweir
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