Mash Blind Date: a man who loves running and hiking and climbing, and a woman who hates that shit but lied

LOVER of the outdoors Jack Browne, aged 28, is thrilled to be dating Hannah Tomlinson, aged 25, who hates all that crap but fancies men who do it. 

Jack on Hannah

First impression?

Really impressed, she’s far more glamorous than most girls who’ve done an Iron Man Triathlon and has far fancier nails. Proves that you don’t have to be all North Face and Mammut to be into that scene.

How was conversation? 

Fantastic. She’s not a bragger even though she’s bagged a third of the Munros – as I told her, if I’d climbed that many I’d never shut up about it! Instead, gracefully, she was more interested in my achievements.

Memorable moments?

Hilariously, she managed to mix up wakeboarding and coasteering even though they’re completely different! We had a good laugh about that one! She was pretty keen to change the subject!

Favourite thing about Hannah? 

She wears her achievements so lightly. I mentioned ultramarathons and she said ‘yeah, I think maybe I’ve done one of those’ as if you’d forget running 42 kilometres up the Matterhorn! I really admire her modesty.

A capsule description? 

Absolutely hardcore. Her endurance prowess puts me to shame. Plus she’s really gorgeous and amazingly not carrying any injuries.

Was there a spark? 

God yes.

What happened afterwards? 

Well, we kissed, she indicated that it didn’t have to end there, and we went back to my place. I’ll draw a veil there but she certainly has stamina.

What would you change about the evening? 

At times I felt a little bit outclassed. She acted like she was impressed by my mere handful of marathons and the time I climbed Kilimanjaro, then let slip that she could put that in the shade. She even had the courtesy to seem embarrassed.

Will you see each other again?  

Yes, she’s joining me for a 15k on Sunday. I hope I can keep up with her is all.

Hannah on Jack

First impression?

Tinder didn’t lie. He’s got that rangy, outdoors, weatherbeaten look I absolutely melt for. Though anoraks are not suitable for dates even if they are ‘Patagonia’ or whatever.

How was conversation? 

Focused. He wanted to know all about my training schedule, where I’d hiked, all that stuff. I bluffed a load of vague crap and he seemed to believe me. But he was really reticent about the stuff he’d done even though I was lapping it up.

Memorable moments?

He was blathering about some free climber basehumper crap and doing all these gestures and the light caught him and oh yes, the muscles. Oh mama. That was the point at which I decided I would be getting that shirt off.

Favourite thing about Jack? 

The body, the looks, the thought of getting it on in the Lake District. I’m not camping though. Fuck that.

A capsule description? 

Like a cowboy except I’ll be doing the riding.

Was there a spark? 

Bloody hell yes. Like a climbing axe dragging down a granite wall, I imagine is the kind of thing he’d say.

What happened afterwards? 

We went back to his and shagged, because I needed to seal the deal before he finds out I spend most evenings watching Coronation Street and most weekends deciding where to brunch. Fuck no I don’t go up Helvellyn, but we’ve found something physical to do together now, yeah?

What would you change about the evening? 

I would have lied less or researched my lies better. From the widening of his eyes a few of my claims were perhaps more extreme than I intended. I thought an ultramarathon was like a short version?

Will you see each other again?  

Yeah, I’m going watching him do a race on Sunday. He thinks I’m running it but I’m not. I’ll say I’ve hurt my leg or something.

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Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

Imagine how many more shirts Ralph Lauren would have sold if he’d put a cool sport on them instead, like skateboarding or dogfighting.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

‘Our electricity pylons provide an accessible zip-line network covering the whole UK,’ you posit, before discovering that’s not the case at the cost of all your limbs.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

You know, as Ronan Keating sang, you say it best when you say nothing at all, so shut the fuck up.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

You’re flattered when the barmaid at your local remembers what you had last time you were in. Fifteen pints of Stella, eight Jägerbombs and a scuffle in the car park.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

346, 101, 221, 30 and of course 15A. Ah, the buses of your youth.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

Virgos are rich, so your horoscope is now behind a paywall. To find out your prospects for love, happiness and wealth this week, pay up.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

The sixth Spice Girl, Pumpkin Spice, only appears for three months each year and she’s orange and obese.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

It must suck for stand-up comedians being heckled onstage. But who else are you going to heckle, a neurosurgeon?

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

Winter Love Island but in Finland. Still outdoors and all in bikinis and trunks. Shivering, terrified, coupling simply for wamth. Television gold.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Old-school shoe brand Kickers’ line of gloves – Fisters – never took off in the same way.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

To you, a Dominic, practically everyone in Britain is a non-Dom. And it shouldn’t be fucking allowed.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

Abolish the House of Lords. Release the Lords onto Crown estates to run free and breed. Then hunt them.