I guess there are always those dates that you wish you could relive over and over again. If Hot Richard was a food, he would be chocolate. I know he is terrible for me, but something about him is so irresistible and the idea of living a life without him is hard to contemplate.
Employment – formerly in finance
Age – late thirties
Nationality – Australian
Interests – Food, cycling, animals, travel and oddly, trains and ladybirds
Source – Tinder
Anatomy – f**king gorgeous: body to die for, handsome, just thinking about him makes me swoon.
The Story – Hot Richard and I had met on Tinder, and as he had photos of himself topless on the beach, I’d immediately discounted him as a bit of fun. We’d had some very odd chats (which as it transpired, are normal for him), and I found him mildly amusing without taking it seriously. He was just the wrong side of crazy to seriously consider making a plan to meet up with.
A couple of times, Hot Richard had said that he was in the city and suggested that we meet up, but I was reluctant to leave my office and so I refused the offer. If only I’d known how later, I’d be dying for that opportunity, maybe I would of reassessed. Or maybe not.
On the Friday following the unusual Mr Crazy Golf experience, I had no plans for the evening and Hot Richard messaged and asked what I was doing that day. I complained that I was bored, he asked if I’d like to meet, and my response was: “That won’t cure my boredom, you’ll only want one thing, and then you’ll move on. Boring.” Hot Richard took offence at this, and so probably against my better judgement, we made a plan to meet that evening when I clocked off.
Venue – Lincoln’s Inn Fields / London Cocktail Club
Website – London Cocktail Club
Eating/Drinking – Waitrose drinks for the park, London Cocktail Club has a great menu
Activities – Drinking
Atmosphere – You get chucked out of the park at dusk, they lock it up
I told Hot Richard that I wanted to be outside after I’d spent the whole of the late summer’s day in an office. He suggested that we meet in a park and he would buy some drinks. He didn’t faff around asking me what I wanted to drink, he just made the decision, I like that. I rang him as I left the office, and it was the first time that we’d spoken on the phone. His voice was deep and his accent sexy. I said that I was on my way and asked him to send the location, which he did.
Lincoln’s Inn Fields is a short walk from the deepest darkest depths of the city, but feels like a forgotten place. A rectangle of park, hidden behind the Rosewood Hotel and next to Holborn, on a balmy Friday summer evening it was crowded with students and tourists and those who had just finished work. As I arrived at the gate, I called Hot Richard, and asked him where he was. It became apparent that he was able to see me, although there was little chance of me picking him out in the crowd. He offered to direct me towards him.
“Walk forward, that’s it, keep walking, that’s it, now turn right.” It felt intimate, sexy, his voice, instructing me what to do, whilst he watched. Alternatively, you could look at it as stalkerish. I was predisposed to the former.
And then he stood up in the crowd of people, and he was the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. Hot Richard is at least 6’4, he is made of muscle, he was only wearing a tshirt and shorts, and has intense eyes which gleam out of a tanned, chiselled face. He makes me feel girlish, shy and awkward in front of him.
I have only experienced pure lust at first sight very rarely in my life, but Hot Richard ticks that box. I want him. The attraction I felt to him was overwhelming and instant, I am overwhelmed by him.
The evening was idyllic, the location was perfect, we could talk and relax and drink and feel each other’s nearness without being conspicuous. I felt concerned that he wouldn’t like me the way that I liked him, we talked about the way that you can’t gauge how interested you’ll be in a person until you meet them in person, but I need not of worried, when he kissed me for the first time, I was pressed against the warm grass, and he put his arms around me.
I like the way you look at me, he said.
I must of looked at him like I wanted to devour him, which I did. The power of the attraction I felt to him, I have never felt before or again.
We couldn’t keep our hands off one another. Hot Richard had said that he had plans for dinner, but he decided not to keep them, and so we walked towards Covent Garden, and eventually ended up at the London Cocktail Club on Shaftesbury Avenue.
The atmosphere at the bar was good – table service and a tab – always a winner for a date. We had a sofa to ourselves and we continued to flirt, chat and kiss throughout the evening. I really like the relaxed sofas, and the graffiti style means it remains cool, not pretentious. Once we had drunk far more than was sensible, Hot Richard settled the bill. We decided it was time to move on, but we left the bar without a plan of where to go next, so we walked back along the river, all the way to Bank. I think we just needed to spend as much time together as we could.
We kissed, we played, we flirted, we chatted, we began to fall in love. When I was in the taxi home, I text him, and our conversation was constant throughout the next few weeks.