Rio’s, Kentish Town: ‘why I returned at 61 after ten years’

Warning: this article contains adult themes and sexual language.

Some things are reliable in life. The Wizard of Oz at Christmas never fails to make me tearful. Cat videos on Instagram always raise a smile. And, after returning to Rios in Kentish Town after an absence of nearly ten years, I can add that it will always make me feel attractive – even if the attention is entirely unwarranted and unwanted.

I was partly responsible for putting Rio’s on the map when I wrote about my experiences there back in my forties in my bestselling book, “The Butcher, the Baker, the Candlestick Maker.” And subsequently, the Kentishtowner informed me that this article I wrote about my experiences was one of its most popular reads of all time (“It still is” – ed).

I’m not quite sure what drew me back there recently. I suspect I was curious to know if it had survived the pandemic and, if so, how. I had also recently partnered with a man interested in opening our relationship. Rio’s is as good a place as any to road test potential casual partners. No matter the circumstances, I’ve always felt safe meeting strangers there naked because it’s disarming for them. In short, my first trip back did not disappoint.

“What is it then?” wondered one of the staff when I casually strolled in. “Ten years?”
“Yes, must be about that, “I replied. “And it looks like you’ve had a bit of a refurb.”

Once I got past the reception, facing front rather than sideways to the main door as I remembered it, there wasn’t much difference. Still the same yellow lockers in which to put my clothes, still the same loungers on which to watch the telly. Some new wall coverings and tiling, but that was it as far as I could see.

One significant difference was that my favourite tuna and sweetcorn sandwiches were no longer available after I heard of an accident in the kitchen. This meant an absence of on-site food except for the famous biscuit tin on the bar, filled as it always had been, with McVities Digestives.

However, it is still possible to bring your drinks (alcoholic or otherwise) and food, with many taking advantage of the numerous tasty takeaways nearby. Back when I used to be a regular, it was common for a punter to take group orders so we could tuck into a tikka masala in the nude without all of us having to get dressed and go outside.

I‘d arrived on what was once my regular day, Wednesday. Just as it had been a decade earlier, there were men of all ages hanging out in the jacuzzi, steam and sauna rooms hoping for some action. The one, older lone woman in a steam room was soaping herself from top to bottom, and I recognised her too and enquired about a few people from our mutual past. One woman had died, she said – a Covid casualty – and she wasn’t familiar with the other.

There’s no subtlety to Rio’s, which suits me. If a guy gets out of the jacuzzi aroused, you know it’s game on. I’d arrived with a potential hook-up, Steve, a pizza delivery driver, the rationale being that it’s cheaper for couples to enter together than it is for single men. They’d recently had a price hike to support the additional cost of running the energy-sucking spa facilities.

Steve had been keen to meet me, and I wanted to ensure that he wasn’t a lunatic or a stalker (or both) and suggested Rio’s. It was a place he had heard about but never had the opportunity to visit, so he was eager to see what it was like, and I was curious to see whether or not it still held any fascination for me. Would this be my final visit, or would I want to return?

Steve was attractive, probably in his early forties (he’d said 37, but everyone lies on the apps, right?), about 5’10” and slim. He told me about his various delivery jobs and the famous customers to whom he had occasionally run into delivering an American Hot. He didn’t ask about me, which I wasn’t sure was courtesy, as people seeking hook-ups are inevitably trying to run away from someone, assuming we’re all married or living together and seeking excitement. Or perhaps he was incredibly self-centred.

After taking advantage of the various facilities, we paid a short visit to one of the many relaxation rooms, which definitely would have benefited from updating. The thin plastic-covered mattresses on top of the wooden bases had seen better days, and it wasn’t long before the air was thick and heavy from our mutual heat. The truth is we were in and out of that room in about 15 minutes. It hardly deserved a notch on the bedpost.

So what do I conclude from this most mini of adventures? While Rio’s is still the same as when I wrote about it all those years ago, something had changed – me. At 61, I’m nowhere near as hot or as horny as I once was – and yet it’s nice to know that when I want to feel desired by a stranger, it’s always there. It’s still, always, an option. And in these strange times, that’s almost comforting.