Me Life Story by Scarlett Moffatt (pdf e book reader .TXT) 📕

with that person you feel that instant spark and it’s not that awkward small talk as you already know a little about them. I just hope that with Streetmate I can build people’s confidence up when it comes to actually going out and talking to people you don’t know.’ That was what I really wanted to achieve with the show.

I was about to film my first ever episode of Streetmate, just two months after the initial chat about presenting the show. I was given the task of presenting fifteen episodes; that’s thirty dates, that’s sixty potential people who could have found true love by the end of the series (or just a lot of shit, awkward dates). Love makes me giddy, and my heart just melts when I see an elderly couple walking hand in hand down the street; however, I must add I also love seeing the single independent characters. Being single is just as great as being in a relationship sometimes. No awkward meetings with the in-laws and having to pretend you like them. And you don’t have to endure watching a whole season of a show you have no interest in at all. Although on a negative note, you are always put on the shit table at a wedding, sat with the odd uncles and black sheep of the family. But whether you’re single, coupled up with bae, engaged, married, divorced or asexual, I say embrace it!

I had arrived into Bristol to film the lovely George. He wanted a girl aged between eighteen and twenty-four who, and I quote, ‘wore earrings and had skinny blue jeans with a white T-shirt on’. This was going to be harder than I first anticipated. People are so bloody fussy. I was just looking at people who were smiling and looked like they had brushed their hair that morning, but some people have a very specific type. We had one girl who kept turning everyone down because she specifically wanted someone who was wearing chestnut-brown brogues and a tweed jacket. I mean, come on, people can change their bloody shoes! Also they might be a builder and have to wear steel toecap boots to work, I mean a tweed jacket just doesn’t look right teamed with a high-vis. I had to tell some of them, ‘Look, this is why you’re single, stop being so fussy’ (I know it’s harsh but I just wanted them to find love).

I’m not saying go for somebody who you don’t fancy at all but if there’s one thing I’ve learnt doing this show and which I’ve passed on to my friends, it’s this: if you have more than four things on your list of your ‘ideal partner’ then you need to knock some off. Because sometimes this ‘ideal partner’ just doesn’t exist.

Bristol was great, I’d even been given security. Now this wasn’t because I think I’m big time like Beyoncé and need protecting, it’s more because sometimes people get a bit carried away when they see a camera and, well, turn into knobheads, to put it frankly. If one more man dabs in front of me or shouts the infamous phrase ‘F**k her right in the p*ssy’, I’ll scream.

However, the first security man wasn’t actually sure what his job entailed and was just comical. He kept disappearing and turning up with things like pulled pork sandwiches, a bag of homemade fudge for his wife from a market and selfies with local landmarks. He also told us we needed to get a taxi to get to the Bristol Canal dock. The taxi ended up costing £1.80 and the destination was literally round the corner, I mean it took us longer to get in the taxi, fasten our seatbelts, tell the driver where we were going and pay him than it would have done to walk all of twenty steps. We quickly got rid of Frankie and ended up with the lovely Justin and Michael. Michael actually ended up fancying one of the ladies who I was trying to find a date for (she was a doppelganger for Janet Jackson – nineties Janet Jackson not 2017 Janet Jackson). After a lot of flirty banter (flanter) I decided to set them two up on a date with each other and they ended up leaving hand in hand (cutiepies).

One of my favourite dates was with seventy-six-year-old Geraldine Firequeen. What a hoot! She rocked up looking like a glamorous gran with flowers in her hair and a spring in her step. She had been married four times and wrote erotic novels to pass the time and classed herself as a white witch. After telling me she was psychic, I decided to put her powers to the test.

‘Can you guess what star sign I am, Geraldine?’

‘Ooh yes, definitely Pisces.’

‘No, not quite, I’ll give you another guess.’

‘Cancer?’

‘No. And again.’

‘Taurus?’

This went on for another couple of minutes until she finally guessed correctly, ‘Libra.’

‘By George, you’ve got it, Geraldine, you have the gift.’

We proceeded around the picturesque town of Didsbury (I’ll openly admit at first glance I thought it was somewhere where posh northerners went to die, but I take it all back, it’s very trendy and the people there are very welcoming and friendly). After Geraldine had eyed up a fishmonger, a guy in Tesco and a twenty-three-year-old estate agent, I finally found her dream man sitting in a quiet country pub: Jeff. Let me paint a picture of wor Jeff. He was a tanned seventy-one-year-old Sean Connery lookalike with a turtleneck jumper casually set off by a suit jacket. He collected classic cars, sailed and played the trumpet. I knew Geraldine was going to be thrilled.

She came into the pub and met Jeff for the first time. ‘Wow, you’ve sparked something in me which I haven’t felt since 2005,’ she proclaimed.

‘Well, I’m speechless, it’s so lovely to meet you, Geraldine,’ he said.

I started to cry as I watched the two meet. I think it’s lovely that even if they didn’t find romance they