Incredible viewing, all eight hours of it.
Too Hot To Handle was released last week. If this sentence does not trigger intense excitement in your soul, you must be unaware of the concept of the show.
A selection of sexy singletons arrive to a retreat all horned up only to discover that they’re not allowed to have sex. They’re not even allowed to kiss. If they do, they lose money. Hilarious.
Netflix’s latest reality TV offering dropped onto the streaming platform last Friday – and so it was an entire Friday night (and some of Saturday morning) that I spent binging the show.
Did I have anything else better to be doing? No, we’re in a pandemic. Do I regret my actions? Not even a little bit.
Reality TV is bad, and yet at the same time, it is oh so good. Because it’s so bad, if you will. By that logic, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that Too Hot To Handle is ingenious TV.
It’s got everything you could ever possibly need to create eight solid hours of addictive content: good looking people with very few morals, the promise of sex, and the eventual ban of sex entirely – kissing included.
What could possibly go wrong? Turns out, lots actually. And I enjoyed every second of it.
Please find my detailed experience below.
(Warning: spoilers ahead for the first season of Too Hot To Handle.)
Episode 1
I begin my viewing experience hopeful, ready, intrigued for what is to come.
Will this show be as entertaining as Love Island? Will it be as shocking as Love Is Blind? Will it be a mindless activity to fill my Friday night/Saturday morning with in a bid to forget about the fact that the world and society as we know it is collapsing around us?
Dear reader; it was.
The series kicks off as any reality TV series is wont to kick off – with a load of good looking people in their 20s showing up in bikinis and hugging awkwardly. Except for one guy who showed up wearing some really baggy pants, a large vest, and a genuine beanie.
His name is Matthew, but he is Jesus. And he is here to save us all.
Episode 2
These people are liars. They are lying. They are not telling the truth.
There is no way that every single one of them has so much sex that they’re positively aghast at the mere idea of staying completely celibate for a month. You haven’t ridden over 1,000 birds, Harry. You’re only 17-years-old. That would be impossible.
It is becoming increasingly unclear how much time has passed on this island (Set? Beach? Where exactly is this show taking place?). The narrative would lead me to believe that we’re on Day 2 of the Too Hot To Handle adventure, but apparently six weeks have passed.
It’s 2022 now. I’m still watching. David has cried 128 times.
Episode 3
I have a few favourites. This is them: the girl from Cork. Jesus-looking guy. The AI computer named Lana.
That’s it, that’s all the people I like.
Love Island has long been lauded for presenting the worst the UK has to offer and giving them a platform to showcase just how horny they truly are, but Too Hot To Handle takes the biscuit when it comes to reality contestants that are totally unlikeable.
With the exception of Nicole who is a sweet baby angle who must be protected at all costs, these people simply cannot be real. Where did you find them, Netflix? Where were they hiding? Why are they consistently lying about how much sex they usually have on their boat that they allegedly bought with the money from their trust fund?
But that’s the fun, isn’t it? That’s why we watch these shows – to complain about people. People who are probably perfectly nice and intelligent is real life but are acting a certain way because they know it’ll give them a better chance to stay relevant and interesting on a reality TV series.
Chloe is probably really smart. Matthew may not be that chill. Bryce probably doesn’t even play the piano!? But he can certainly stroll down a beach with it placed firmly upon his shoulder.
It’s all lies, but I will eat it up until the very last second. I will lick the plate clean. Just watch me.
Episode 4
Rhonda and Sharron would be insufferable if it wasn’t for Francesca and Harry. But next to that pair, they’re saints.
Oh, you didn’t have full penetrative sex on your special getaway but you did have lots of other sex that resulted in you losing $16,000 from the prize fund? No bother at all, guys, you work away. You’re pretty wholesome. This is fine.
Kelz has now mentioned the fact that he is an accountant for the 87th time. It is apparently his only personality trait.
Episode 5
I have turned introspective.
I could win this show, I think to myself while horsing into a tub of Ben & Jerrys’ lying flat on my back on the sofa. I haven’t gotten the ride in well over a month. I haven’t kissed anyone in ages. I haven’t felt the vague presence of a member of the male sex since before the pandemic began, apart from my housemate, who is in fact engaged.
Aside from the fact that you need to be either 80 percent muscle or a size six to even be considered for this show, I think I’d fucking kill it on Undisclosed Island. This isn’t torture, this is my life. It’s playing out before me.
Episode 6
Francesca and Harry are ruining my life.
STOP. DOING. SEX. THINGS – is what I scream at the TV as two people who appear to have formed somewhat of a genuine connection share a fleeting glance across a room.
I have become Matthew, the keeper of chastity. I have grown my hair long. I have donned a beanie and haram pants. I have become one with the energy and spirit of the natural world and decided that it is my duty to stop people from having sex due to the simple fact that nobody wants to have sex with me.
I will sigh as couples kiss. I will groan inwardly as people consider some heavy petting. I will scream bloody murder as Francesca gives Harry a blowjob in a room full of people who are trying to sleep.
They are ruining this for everyone – but more specifically, they are ruining this for me, a person who is deathly alone.
Episode 7
Too Hot To Handle invented feminism.
The girls have each taken the time to view their vaginas and consider what they love about themselves. Chloe has realised that porn is not an accurate representation of real female bodies. Rhonda has revealed that she is a mother. Francesca has discovered a new-found respect for herself.
Simone de Beauvoir left shaking. Mary Wollstonecraft found rotting.
Episode 8
This is it, we’re over, we’re done.
I have reached the end of the Too Hot Handle Road and I have many questions. Most of them are about continuity and the general passing of time, but those queries will never be answered.
What have I learned? A lot, to be honest. I’ve discovered some things about myself, some things about other people, some things about my own penchant for incredibly poor reality shows featuring people who could never possibly act that way in real life.
I’ve also learned that in order to achieve “personal growth,” apparently all you need to do is have sex once, fight a lot, and drop the L-bomb far too soon.
Good to know.
Too Hot To Handle is streaming now on Netflix.
