It is Valentine's Day and after a disastrous year of dating hell, I've relegated myself to sort of dating purgatory. Our college campus is holding their annual "Eight Minutes to Heaven" not to be confused with the fun game you play in a dark closet, with a blindfold, enjoying a make-out session with a complete stranger. It is instead a speed dating service that us sad, lonely, and loveless people fall prey to because it's Valentines Day and the very thought of being alone on this day is enough to send most of us to the liqueur cabinet, or worse local bridge, to contemplate life and it's worth continuing.

Since coming to this university three years ago Danny has been listening to my mournful woes and insane tales of dating to which his normal reply would be "Dream Date" and we'd laugh as we compared notes. I have to say, he has managed to top me on more than one occasion.

So why, after such a terrible track record, I allowed him to talk me into this I have no idea, but as with anything I do, I figure if you going to do something then you should go all in, not halfway, no half-hearted effort. So, I decided to wear my favorite red sleeveless, V-neck dress that hugged my every curve and came to just above my knees. I love this dress as it makes me feel rather bold and daring, two things, which I really lack in reality. I top the look off with a pair of strappy black heels and decided to wear my long hair down and in soft curls.

My doorbell rings and I open the door and there is Danny on the other side. "Holy Hera you look hot!" Danny exclaims and I laugh.

"This old thing," I say, spinning around to give him the full effect, and he lets out a slow whistle.

"You're looking rather G.Q.," I tell him. He is wearing some dark denim jeans; a nice pair of squared off leather shoes, a light blue button-down shirt, which nicely matches his eyes and the blue blazer he's chosen to round everything out. He too does a spin, to mock me of course, and I in turn whistle but my whistle is more of a catcall whistle, which makes him laugh.

"You all set," he asks and I say, "Yep, ready to go."

"After you mi'lady," and he makes a grand gesture of bowing as I exit the door.

"Thank you, my good sir," I say giving him a quick curtsey before locking the door behind me.

The dating service is set up in one of the larger classrooms on campus that is normally used for seminars and such. Tonight it is set up with our small desk, chair combos, facing each other in sets of two, in a long line down the middle of the room. The moderator gives us each a nametag with a number and our first name only and a scorecard.

We sign in and mingle. After about fifteen minutes the moderator sets down the ground rules. "Okay, thanks for coming to "Eight Minutes to Heaven," I ask all women to take a seat according to your number on the right and the men can line up on this side of the classroom here on the left. The rules are simple, do not disclose your last name, where you live or work, phone number, etc. Nor are you allowed to ask someone out during this event. This is a no pressure zone.

At the start of the event, we ask that men take their seat. You will chat, ask questions, and check out if you have any chemistry in a string of one-on-one conversations lasting 8 minutes each. At the end of 8 minutes, a bell will ring and you will have 1 minute to fill out your "Score Card" as to whether or not you would like to see this person again in the future. The men will then move to the next seat.

The process continues until everyone has met. Halfway through there will be a short break where you may refill your drinks and stretch, etc. When everyone has met, you will hand in your scorecards to me your host and moderator for this evening. Any questions?"

Everyone just nodded or shrugged that they understood. It seemed rather straightforward. "Okay let's begin."

I look down at my scorecard and it reads: Name on the badge, Match Y or N, Your Type Y or N, Score – Marks out of 10, a frowny face (Grimace), a smiley face (Giggle) and Notes. I look up to see a nice pair of brown eyes and a bit of bedhead hairdo and a goofy grin. "Hi, uh... Bill," I say holding out my hand after reading his nametag which he takes and has a nice firm handshake.

"Abbey, I like your dress."

"Thank you! I..."

"It reminds me of my ex. She liked to wear low-cut outfits too. You'd think it would have given me a clue as to what a slut she was, huh?"

Did he just call me a slut? My thoughts must have transferred to my face as he was quick to add, "Not saying you're a slut just that your outfit could be considered slutty."

Okay, this guy is a definite frowny face. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm giving him a frowny face right now.

So, what makes girls like you tick anyway? I mean seriously, I gave my ex the best years of my life and she just sleeps with the first guy to cross her path. Is it because you just can't be sexually satisfied? I mean I'm rather good at sex and if you're demanding, I promise I'll try and keep up.

"Ring, damn you, ring." I think looking at the timer at the front of the class.

You don't talk very much, that's something else you and my ex have in common. Never knew what she was thinking? Obviously, she was thinking of sleeping with the guy from the coffee shop we'd go to every morning before class. Little did I know all she was looking for was more "Hot Coffee" if you know what I mean? (I didn't but guessed it meant sex) Do you know you have the same color eyes too?

"Ring!" Oh, thank you, Lord. He holds out his hand to me again and unbelievably says, "It was really great meeting you, Abbey. Hope we have a chance to do this again. You're a great listener."

"Yeah, thanks." And we take a minute to fill out our cards. Bill – Match (N) – Your Type (N) – Score (3), Grimace, Notes- seems a bit obsessed with his ex-girlfriend.

The men move down one and I am now facing a short man with long sideburns and poufy black hair. "Well, hello there little lady," he says with a swing of his hips and a strange pointing gesture that reminds me of someone.

"Hello...Phil," I say looking at his nametag. So what's one thing you would like me to know about you?" I ask, seemed to be a safe enough question.

"Well in case you missed it, I like to moonlight as an Elvis Impersonator. I wanted to make it my life's work but my height holds me back."

"Really?" I ask trying my best not to laugh and sound intrigued as YouTube videos of Saturday Night Live's "Tiny Elvis" skits run through my mind.

"You have a beautiful smile," he says.

Thank God he doesn't realize why I'm smiling. "Thank you, so what's your major?"

"Biology, Chemistry, you know all the basics needed to be a dentist."

"You want to be a dentist? That seems a bit of jump from the whole Elvis thing?" I can tell I've bristled him somehow as he's now frowning at me.

"You know it's an art form, being an impersonator takes years of dedication and work, not to mention research. There isn't anything I don't know about the King."

"Is that so," I say, "did you know Elvis once grabbed a loaded .38 he retrieved from his kitchen drawer and told Alice Cooper to point it at him in the attempt to show Alice how he knows how to disarm someone. Cooper joking thought of shooting him and being forever known as the guy who shot Elvis but found in the time it took him to have that thought he was on the floor with Elvis' boot in his face."

Phil looks visibly mad, "That never happened."

"Chubby Checker, Liza Minnelli, and Linda Lovelace were all there to verify it. I'm not much of an Elvis fan but I do love Alice Cooper."

Phil looks at me horrified. "I don't think I could be with anyone who didn't love Elvis."

"I see," as the bell rings I say, "Well thank you, Phil. Thank you very much."

Let's just say as we filled out our cards, I'm pretty sure I'm getting a Grimace from "Tiny Phil." Score Card: Phil – Match - (N), Your Type - (N), Score (4), Grimace, Notes - Is already in love with someone else and his name is Elvis.

Slide – Okay now here appears a real possibility. A warm smile, gentle handshake, and I have to say expertly dressed, he looks like he just stepped out of a magazine or something.

"Abbey- A father's joy," he says as he sits down across from me.

"I'm sorry...Stefan. I don't think I'm following?" I ask staring at his perfectly lined eyebrows. Are those threaded?

"It's what your name means, people with your name have a deep inner desire for a stable home and family. A real need to feel appreciated. Do you feel appreciated Abbey?"

"You mean right now?" I asked my confusion growing.

"Of course, people with your name tend to gain great power and wealth, and spend so much time trying to do so they often neglect their private lives and relationships." He says this while shaking his head like I'm already doomed to fulfill this prophecy of his.

"You get all that from a name, huh? Imagine what you'd learn if we were allowed to divulge our surnames." I laugh but he does not look amused. "If it makes you feel better I'm completely broke, and sometimes I go days without needing to feel appreciated."

"Then you are denying yourself. Evident from the neglect to your appearance." He takes my hand in his and actually tsks, "You bite your nails."

I pull my hand back from his annoyed, and are his nails manicured? I could have sworn I just seen a sheen from the fluorescents gleam.

"Oh, and your hair," he says shaking his head in a sad way.

My hand lightly touches my hair, "What about it?"

"Darling, if you are going to go to town on the iron you need to moisturize it more, look at these split ends?"

He reaches over and plucks a hair out of my head. "Ow!" I say in shocked horror and disbelief. Who does that? He holds it out in front of me and is pointing with his perfectly manicured finger to the split end he was referring to. Of course, I could have done without the visual aid. Damn that smarts.

"Ring!" Good. Scorecard time: Stefan - Match- (N), Your Type- (N), Score - (3), Grimace (definitely), Notes - I may be wrong but I'm pretty sure Stefan wishes to play in the men's league only.

"Okay everybody," the moderator says; "We are going to take a 5-minute breather before going to round two."

My eyes scan the room and I see Danny talking to a perky blonde and she is giggling like crazy at whatever he is saying. He catches me looking at him and winks. The blonde looks at me like she wishes I'd burst into flames when she notices this. Boy, this is a fun evening.

I stop at the snack table to get a soda and some pretzels. "So, how's it going so far?" Danny whispers in my ear making me jump and drop my bag of salty goodness. "No worries," he says and scoops up the few that fell out and throws them away. He then hands me his bag, "You can have mine."

"Thanks!" I say smiling a real smile for the first time this entire evening unless you count when I was secretly laughing at "Tiny Phil". "It's been interesting, and you?" I ask. Watching how the perky blonde girl is waving to try and get Danny's attention just so she could wink at him.

"Interesting. That would be a good word for it," he chuckles.

"No, prospects?" I ask, curious, "Little Miss Sunshine over there looks pretty enthusiastic."

"Yeah," Danny says, "within seconds of sitting across from her she took a selfie of her and I posted it on Facebook and changed her status to "in Ship", with a post of "He's so hot!" and a bunch of smilies and hearts. Seems like her friends are just as enthusiastic as in 8 minutes she got 10 Likes."

"Dream Date," I say throwing his phrase back at him.

"Tell me?" he actually giggles.

"Guy one obsessed with his ex-girlfriend and calls me a slut," I say and Danny rubs his hand over his lips to hide his grin. "Yeah, guy two, Tiny Elvis over there," I say pointing in a not too discreet way. "Oh and the pièce de résistance, the third guy is gay and pulled a hair out of my head to show me my split ends. It still hurts."

This last statement almost had me wearing Danny's soda that he spit out, as I told him this after he had taken a rather large swig. "Okay," he said holding his hands up in surrender once his coughing fit was through. "You win this round. Ready for round two?"

"Do I have too?" I pout and he laughs again. "Come on, how do you know your dream guy isn't waiting for you in this next group of guys?"

I frown at him and he chuckles again. "It could happen."

"Yeah, right," I say with complete disbelief and the moderator calls for us to take our seats. Here we go again.

Seated now in front of me is a tall blonde with really nice eyes and a bit of smug grin. Okay, maybe I'm just being more judgmental this round but these guys are talking to a veteran now not a virgin. So, they better know they are walking into this with something to prove.

"Hi, there!" he says holding out his hand.

"Hi...Cameron!"

"It's pronounced Cam-rin!" he corrects me and is looking around like he's bored.

Oh yay! "Well Camrin, what's your major?"

He suddenly lights up. "Psychology?"

"Impressive. What made you choose that direction?" I ask and he's genuinely smiling at me now. He has a rather nice smile.

"I am amazed by the inner workings of a person's mind. So complex, it requires years of study and you would only be scratching the surface."

"Is there a particular field you are interested in?"

He's nearly bouncing in his seat he's so excited. "Forensic Psychology," he says and he gets this dreamy look about his face that is kind of creeping me out. I'm reminded of that billboard I would see when my Dad drove me to high school in the morning of Dexter standing there with red spattered on his face, smiling. It always gave me the shivers.

"So you want to study the criminally insane?" I say now a bit nervously, biting one of my nails, pulling my hand away, I look at it and scowl. Damn you, Stefan.

"I've been studying them. Since my teens really, I've been fascinated. Especially when you get into the serial killer level of insanity. You'd be amazed to discover just how intelligent these people really are." He ends his sentence with a quick giggle of glee.

"I can imagine," I say, wanting desperately to run, run away and hide.

"Look at me jabbering on. Sorry, but you're the first woman to actually ask something about me, most of them here have just been interested in talking about themselves. I like that about you," he says and smiles at me again.

"Oh, please don't like me," I pray silently. "Well, I am an English Lit Major."

He makes a noise almost like a grunt or a scoff. Really?

"Sorry," he says, "it's just English Lit? You must be a terrible disappointment to your parents?"

"What's that suppose to mean?" I say now obviously ticked off.

"Well unless you plan on living out of their basement for the next 30 years I'd say you need to change your major."

He is now laughing at me and I wish I could slap him right now but fear he may go all coo-coo-crazy, so I hold myself in check.

"Ring!" Perhaps this is for the best, knowing I would make so little financially, he'll lose interest and I won't be tagged as his next victim. Score Card: Cameron (pronounced Camrin), Match – (N), Your Type – Hell (N), Score (1) only because I can't give a negative rating, Grimace, Notes – You need to upgrade your screening process, this guy was just downright creepy.

Slide – I cringed a little when put my pencil down, afraid of what was coming next. Instead found I was looking at a total hottie. Halleluiah, I've been saved.

"Hi there Gorgeous," he says to me holding out his hand, which is large and warm and he envelopes my small hand in his. A small giggle escapes. Wait...did that come out of me? His jade eyes sparkle with amusement.

"Hi!" I wish I had something witty to say but I'm tongue-tied as he shrugs out of his leather jacket and twists around to throw it over the chair behind him. His impossibly tight tee shirt looks like it will split a seam straining against his muscular biceps, he turns back and his stomach is so tight, I could probably bounce a quarter off his abs.

"I have to admit," he says in a slow sexy timber, "I've been looking forward to talking to you all evening. I came a little late and missed the mingle in the beginning, and when we had the break you seemed in avid conversation with someone and I didn't want to interrupt."

"Oh, that was my friend Danny," I say, "he's the one who dragged me here today."

"Just friends, huh? Lucky me. If this works out like I'm hoping it will, I'll have to remember to thank him," he says smiling.

My stomach does a little flip and I feel the heat creeping into my skin. I know that I'm blushing and he chuckles a throaty laugh.

"Forgive me for saying this but you don't really seem like the kind of guy that would need all this," I say waving my hand to encompass the room and its occupants.

He looks sad for a moment, "I was in a serious relationship but she left me."

"I'm sorry," I say reaching out to touch his hand. He immediately laces his fingers with mine and doesn't let go.

"Thank you. I figure it's time to get back out there. I have to admit the same surprise about you." He's smiling again.

I laugh and say, "Well it's been more than one bad relationship for me. I just have a nasty habit of picking the wrong kind of guy, I guess."

"Well, if I can be so bold, they're all crazy to let someone like you go. You're gorgeous; you look sexy as hell in that dress and I can already tell you have a sweet demeanor. You're the total package. I know we aren't supposed to ask, but I'd love to get your number. Why wait a week while they figure out what I already know. I want to see you again, Abbey."

As I ponder slipping this guy my digits, his phone rings and he takes his hand from mine and answers it. I figure it must be important to do so in the middle of our conversation so back up as far as my little seat will allow giving him an illusion of privacy. I say illusion as I can hear his side of the conversation quite clearly.

"Hey, Baby. No, no I'm not doing anything important. Yeah, I'll be home soon, just have something I'm in the middle of right now but I should be there shortly." He laughs that sexy throaty laugh again and says, "You are a naughty girl. I plan on making good on that promise the moment we are together, so you best be ready." He hangs up and puts the phone back into his pocket. Smiles and says, "Now I believe you were about to give me your number?"

To hell I am. Did he just take a booty call in the middle of a speed date? Speed Date? Ha, more like Speed Cheat. This guy is amazing and I don't mean in a good way.

"I would really but it's against the rules," I say shocked that this guy is so oblivious.

"Trying to play hard to get," he smiles, "I like it, it shows you're feisty. You must be a real tiger in bed."

"Guess you'll have to wait and see," I say my sarcasm completely lost on this individual.

"Ring!" Is it over yet?  Score Card: Gage – Match (N) – Your Type (Y) unfortunately but something I plan on changing in the future so I guess... I cross out the (Y) and write (N), Score (2), Grimace, Notes – Not sure why he's here as he's already in a relationship with someone. He took the call during our date.

Slide. I must be back in hell. I obviously had not done enough penance. I look up and see a friendly face, a handsome face. A face that makes me sigh in relief with every fiber of my being. Danny.

"So, Hi! I'm Danny," he says and holds out his hand.

I laugh and shake his hand firmly, "Hi Danny, It's a pleasure to meet you." And it strikes me as how true a statement that actually is.

"Abbey, isn't it? So, Abbey who's your ideal man, I mean what are you looking for, really?" He inquires this with a very thoughtful, you have my total attention, kind of face and it's hard for me to take him seriously but I give it a go.

"Well...Danny. I really like a guy who can make me laugh and doesn't take himself too seriously. Who's a good talker but also a good listener. Someone I look forward to spending time with."

"I see," he says and gives me this knowing smile that curls my toes. Whoa! Where has he been hiding that smile?

"And you?" I ask finding I am now more interested in knowing more than I ever was a moment ago.

"Me? Well...I agree a sense of humor is key. I enjoy a girl who likes to laugh at herself or me. Who's willing to listen in good times and bad. I need a girl who will stick by me, as I can be a bit crazy sometimes."

I laugh. Don't I know it? And I did know it. I knew just about everything about him good, bad, indifferent I knew it all and I loved him for it. He was my best friend. There's that smile again. Good Lord, I squirm a little in my seat.

"So where do you see yourself in 5 years?" I ask liking this play-acting we are doing and curious as to what he may respond with.

"Good question," Danny says and gives it some thought before responding with, "I'd have to say in 5 years I see myself with a great career, married, may be ready to start a family."

"Really?" I say honestly surprised, I guess I really don't know everything about him. "Married? And you want kids, huh?"

"If I met the right girl, most definitely. Don't you want kids someday?" He asks and is studying my face in a way he's never done before like this question holds a lot of significance for him.

"Honestly, hadn't really thought about it until you asked? I've had such lousy luck in love and relationships marriage felt out my reach or really far off and so kids... not even on my radar," I admit.

"And if you had to think about it?" he prodded.

"Well, if I have to say what I honestly feel, truthfully I really like the idea of a home and family of my own. I love children. You already know I want to teach," I say, shying a little under his intense gaze when his eyes meet mine. Okay, Stefan maybe you were right about me. Maybe I really do need these things.

"You know, I love the fact that you want to teach kids. I don't think there is a more noble career," Danny says and he looks happy.

Yeah, noble, take that, Camrin, you psychopath.

The bell rings. I feel disappointed, and then I remember whom I'm talking to and realize our conversation doesn't have to end here and I'm excited all over again. We fill out our scorecards and turn them in.

"Ready to blow this popsicle stand?" Danny asks.

"Oh, yes please," I say and we walk out to his car. The evening has a slight chill and he takes off his blazer and drapes it over my bare shoulders.

"Can I ask you another question?" I say stopping by his car.

"You can ask me anything. You should know that by now," he says and moves his body to stand in front of me to block the wind so I could be warmer.

"Why did you drag me here tonight?" I ask looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

"It's a new year and I just thought I'd like to get all the bad dates out of the way so I have a chance to experience something real for a change and this seemed the quickest way to do it."

I laugh. "I like your reasoning."

"I thought you might. So, now I have a question for you," he states.

"Shoot," I reply, but suddenly feel nervous.

He opens the door to his back seat and pulls out one perfect long stem rose. I gasp and he says, "Sweet, beautiful, Abbey will you be my Valentine?"

I hesitate about taking it from him. "What about our friendship? If things go wrong, I can lose you forever."

He laughs at me. "We were never friends, Abbey."

"We weren't?" I asked confused.

"Nope, I'm afraid I always had an ulterior motive in hanging out with you. Be your friend until you got it, and wanted something more, something real. I knew I was taking a chance, but I also knew you were worth it."

I am still unconvinced. He adds, "I also wanted you to come here and go through the disaster that is speed dating in the hopes you'd finally see, what potential there is to me, and I think you have. You see I have this five-year plan...but it doesn't really work without you."

He is the one who makes me laugh, who listens and has listened through train wreck after car crash after sinking Titanic of dates and relationships I have had, none of them ever measured up to being with him. If I were honest most of them I spent thinking, I wonder what Danny is doing right now? Or I wish Danny and I were doing something together. I'd be having far more fun.

"I feel kind of...silly," I say and he smiles at me that toe-curling smile he's been hiding from me all these years and puts the rose on his rooftop. "Maybe this will help you decide."

He takes my cheeks in his palms, tilts my head up so that he may take my lips and brushes his over mine ever so slightly. I smile and he sighs, and then takes my lips again in a way that leaves me with no second thoughts, no regrets and nothing but the feeling of just how right this is and truthfully wanting more so much more.

We both surface quite breathless. "May I take that as a yes?" he asks handing my rose back to me. I take it from him and say, "Oh, yeah. That's a definite yes."

A week later we are snuggled up on our couch, and I say our couch because we are now living together, watching a movie when we each feel our phones buzz with a text message. "Well, what do you know?" Danny says showing me his text; it's from the host of "8 Minutes to Heaven", "we're a perfect match."

I look at my phone and teasing say, "Oh, really? Mine says I should be dating Gage."

"Let me see that?" he says and tries to wrestle the phone from me and cheats by tickling.

"Unfair!" I say trying to push him off of me. "You're pure evil you know that?" He reads his name as my perfect match and sits back and smiles.

"Like you needed them to tell you that," I say snuggling in next to him again. He kisses me and says, "No, you're right I didn't." He kisses me again. "I don't know about you but I'm kinda in the mood for some "Hot Coffee."

He's using Bill's innuendo, which we've adopted to tease each other about sex in public. It always makes me giggle. "Mmmm, coffee."

As he leads me to the bedroom I can't help thinking Score Card: Danny – Match (Y), Your Type (Y) he is now, Score (10), Giggle, Giggle, Notes- Suddenly looking forward to the next 5 years.