If Taylor Swift wants a real love story, she needs a matchmaker

Though the Valentine’s Day cards cascaded through my letterbox on Wednesday, I ken one wifie fa got a pucklie mair.

Step forward the biggest showbiz sensation of the 2020s: singer Taylor Swift, whose stardom just keeps on ascending. The Swifties faithfully flock to her tour dates – like my granddaughter in Edinburgh come June – contributing huge amounts to the economy of cities all over world.

Good on ye, kiddo, for coming up with a’ they hits, even though yer voice is nae that special. And she disnae half attract the men. I read the other day she’s had no less than 13 “steady” celebrity boyfriends since 2008.

I’m too ancient to have heard o’ mony o’ her exes, but some are deffo for girls to die for. Jake Gyllenhaal, Zac Efron, Harry Styles, Tom Hiddleston. Did she just chuck them because they were past their use-by dates?

Yet, I canna fathom her current attraction to NFL star player Travis Kelce. The couple’s picture hit headlines around the world at the weekend, when he helped win the Superbowl for Kansas City Chiefs. As well as an obvious bad temper, he leaves me cold.

So, as an already acknowledged matchmaker, I suggest Taylor moves on, swiftly, to find the gorgeous love of her life.

Taylor Swift’s current relationship with American football player Travis Kelce has been a whirlwind romance. Image: AP Photo/Natacha Pisarenko

Highly successful I may have been, but not without some accidental damage. Take the case of, let’s ca’ them, Katrina and Gordon.

When the affa bonnie quine walked, like a model, into the newsroom, I kint on the spot she was the perfect match for handsome reporter Gordon. He’d recently told me his girlfriend had moved to Australia and he was planning to join her. But he just wasn’t sure. So, I advised he should stay put meantime.

Come Valentine’s Day, I organised an office evening meal to throw my prospective lovers together. At the end of the night, she offered him a lift home, not knowing he’d secreted a red rose on her windscreen. Aww. The rest is history, now with two bonnie bairns.

From Eros to error

Well, not quite. When they got married, I was honoured with a place at the top table to acknowledge my part in their union. However, during his speech, Gordon revealed to the assembled guests the full horror of what happened next… after I’d match-made.

Months later, on a “stake out” (sounds dramatic, actually deadly boring) with a new young photographer and trying to find things to spik aboot for hours, I decided to wow her with my prowess as Eros, explaining how I’d advised this loon to delay being reunited with his girlfriend in Oz while I fixed him up with another.

Thanks-be, the quine saw the funny side, assuring me she was well ower oor boy and on to another even more likely lad

Here’s me: “So, it’s all worked oot for the best.” Here’s her: “Actually, I was the one waiting for him in Australia.” I near tiddled masellie with shock and embarrassment. Fit tae say? “I’m sssooo sssorry!”

Thanks-be, the quine saw the funny side, assuring me she was well ower oor boy and on to another even more likely lad. Spik aboot relief.

The wedding guests roared with laughter at that story, afterwards many coming up to me to say: “That canna be true?” Oh, yes, too true.

Moreen Simpson is a former assistant editor of the Evening Express and The Press and Journal, and started her journalism career in 1970