Mamamia recaps MAFS: The vodka shot scandal of 2026.

I don't know about you, but the teasers for this fifth episode have me braced for Wild Times. We've been promised a return to tension, unpredictability and, in a "historic first" for the show, a little diversity in the form of a bisexual bride.

And I'm all in. Bisexuality isn't exactly groundbreaking, but in this season's overwhelmingly white, hetero bubble, it might at least tip the balance — so bring it on.

First into the ring is Lithuanian-born "emotional gangster" Stella — real name Aistė.

Arriving on a motorbike, she removes her helmet to reveal the face of an actual angel, with a personality to match. Raised to value resilience and strong female role models, she describes herself as confident and clear about what she wants: a kind, active partner with strong family values.

Image: Nine

Despite having no regrets about leaving Eastern Europe for Australia to "lay a better base" for her future children, she lights up when talking about her parents (who, sidebar, look only marginally older than her) and becomes visibly emotional when homesickness creeps in.

She's matched with muscly Melbourne-based carpenter Filip, who was born in Croatia and has recently ditched his party-boy ways to run an online personal development business. He comes across as motivated, articulate and — crucially — not at all creepy when talking about wellness, which, let's face it, is a massive win these days. He's looking for "beauty with substance": a grounded, self-governing woman with whom he can replicate his parents' long-lasting marriage.

And honestly? There's not much to say. Nice people. Great match. Good times.

Watch: The MAFS teaser trailer. Post continues below.

Things get a little more interesting when we meet Stella's hype team: fiercely protective friends Leila and Joe, both radiating serious main-character energy. Their first order of business is making it clear that if anyone hurts their girl, heads will roll. Seriously, blood will be spilt, no joke.

Fortunately, they're initially impressed by Filip. "He's got the looks," says Joe. "The physique, the height… big green tick for me." He pauses. "And for Stella, of course."

Leila dives straight into the vetting process before the ceremony even begins.

"What's your star sign?" she yells from the front row. "Cancer? YES! And your life path? Nine? Great. I approve."

Who's going to tell them it's not their wedding?

Image: Nine

When Stella walks in, the click between her and Filip is almost audible. They're giggly, joyful, instantly at ease. Her vows are emotional, poetic and sincere; his are the perfect mirror. When she mentions her migrant journey and absent family, empathy ripples across his face.

By all appearances, they're completely sympatico. And as someone who also left her home country to build a life in an unfamiliar culture, I'm especially moved by the fact that they share far-flung homelands. All up, I'm feeling good about these two.

Her friends, however, are suddenly unconvinced.

In his vows, Filip mentions his online coaching business — specifically his YouTube channel. And look, I get it, we're all wary of influencers. But it is his job, and most of the other couples have mentioned what they do for work. Also, isn't half the country a YouTuber these days?

Probably information best filed away for later. But the moment the ceremony ends, Joe's lip curls. "I dunno," he says. "I'm getting funny vibes. I'm waving the red flag."

At the reception, his misgivings — and, let's be honest, his thirst for drama — propel him to the lads' table, where he pulls up a chair for a quiet chat about Filip's motivations.

At first, I don't hate the directness. Joe is polite, and there's nothing wrong with a bit of well-timed dad energy. But despite reassurances from Filip's friends, Joe later tells producers he's not having a bar of Stella's new husband. "It's a no from me." Yikes.

Tensions rise further when Joe declines to take part in a Lithuanian tradition involving a vodka shot — which both the background music and Joe himself suggest is deeply offensive. And sure, rejecting a meaningful cultural ritual isn't ideal, but neither is pressuring a sober man to drink.

Image: Nine

The obvious solution? A discreet explanation, a bit of understanding, maybe a non-alcoholic substitute. It's really not that hard. Unfortunately, Filip shuts the invitation down entirely — or at least, that's how the edit frames it.

"Not doing it," he says, justifying the decision with yet another reference to his sobriety-heavy YouTube brand, which of course prompts fresh disapproval from Stella's camp. "There's a big online presence," Leila intuits. "He doesn't want to look bad."

It's awkward. Joe looks ropeable. Even Filip's mates think it's a bum move. But the bride and groom seem perfectly capable of breezing past it — and if they don't make a fuss, neither should anyone else… right?

Wrong.

Leila wastes no time whisking Filip aside for a stern word. Stella is pouring her heart out, and he's up there talking about his business? What kind of monster does that?

"Don't just be here to help yourself," she warns, as if he's eyeing off the family silver.

Filip explains that his work is part of his journey: it's who he is, and he's proud of it. But Leila doesn't budge.

"You're irritated," she tells him… with clear irritation. "I can feel your energy. You're getting yourself really worked up."

When contradicted, she attempts a breathing exercise.

"Prove me wrong," she demands.

It's super patronising. And while I'm all for protective chosen family — especially for those whose families of origin live oceans away — her approach feels more suspect than his. There's zero trust in Stella's ability to make her own call, or even have the conversation herself. And co-dependency is just as much of a warning sign as YouTube, no?

"I've still got my guard up," Leila says in a haughty aside. "We're not going to have one conversation, and he's in the clear."

Again, I wonder who's going to break it to her that she is, in fact, not the bride.

Still, Filip handles the situation well, a truce is reached, and the whole thing blows over. Inhale… and exhale.

One wedding down, one to go — and given how mild the conflict's been so far, I'm expecting serious fireworks next.

Our trailblazing bisexual bride is Julia, a 35-year-old Confidence and Charisma Consultant (huh?) who, as the voiceover keeps reminding us, has no idea which gender will be waiting for her at the altar. Julia is an absolute knockout — so beautiful it's like staring at the sun for too long; it genuinely hurts my eyes.

Image: Nine

Her ambition, poise and intelligence are softened by shots of journaling in the garden and wearing cosy knit cardigans. She's looking for emotional intelligence, self-knowledge, clarity and someone who has their shit together. Hard to argue with that.

Her walk down the aisle plays out like a gender-reveal party. We all hold our breath. Will the balloons be pink or blue? She reaches the altar and — drum roll — it's a… dude, obvs.

His name is Grayson, a handsome recruitment director whose AFL dreams were derailed by injury. He's here because his best mate Johnny found true love on MAFS Season 8, proving the experiment can work.

Grayson wants exactly what Julia does: emotional intelligence, sincerity, vulnerability, optimism, a love of adventure — someone willing to "take risks for love". Also, he surfs.

And again, it's hard to find fault. These two are so polished, so perfect, so camera-ready there's a strong chance they were created by AI, possibly with funding from Tourism Australia. Even their friends and family look like catalogue models. They marry at the Opera House — of course — and everything unfolds without a hitch. Calm. Relaxed. Mutual attraction. Nice.

The reception follows suit. Reasonable questions are asked. They're hot for each other's "essence". And despite the show's best efforts, even Julia's revelation about her sexuality fails to generate conflict.

Grayson is unfazed, politely curious. Not a beat missed. No neuroses detected. The risk factor is in the negatives. It's like ChatGPT's gift to bougie white Australia.

Set against the chaos of the earlier couples, this wedding feels eerie in its safety. Which, I suppose, was to be expected after backlash against last season's exhausting, manufactured chaos.

Image: Nine

By the end of MAFS 2025, viewers were entertained — but burned out. So yes, I understand the pivot toward gentler, more benign pairings. Still, it raises questions. What does this version of "safety" say about mainstream culture? And was this not an opportunity to showcase wellbeing beyond the white, middle-class, well-educated norm?

I feel disappointed — and not because no one's punched a wall.

That said, it's very hard not to like these two. And after the stress of the early episodes, I'm surprisingly okay with the level of chill Julia and Grayson are bringing — even if they do turn out to be robots.

Join me next time for the first dinner party, where all our brides and grooms reunite, knock back the drinks and traditionally get even messier.

Strap in, friends. The Wild Times may still be ahead.

Feature Image: Nine.