Love was something that was a bit of a mystery to me. When I thought of love it was clinical, almost cold. Love, in my mind was something fictional. It was something that brought two teenagers together in a sappy John Green book. It wasn't something I knew for myself. I only knew about it through the narratives of others. But it was something I desired so much.

Growing up I didn't see many examples of what good love was. I saw my parents relationship which was in most regards a business partnership. The business of being a family, of which my father was the unrelenting boss. My mother, my brother, and I were employees, expected to be obedient and efficient. There wasn't much love to be gained from my father, I don't think he knew what it was himself.

My mom loved my brother and I with her whole heart, that was plain to see. She was always there for us, a comforting presence in what could often be a stormy environment. But her love was often times overshadowed by my father's sternness. I don't know what emotion held my parent's relationship together, I couldn't help but wonder if there was any emotion at all.

I didn't know of any love during my time on the streets. Out of all the men I slept with there was no love. For some regulars there might have been some sort of affection. But at the end of the night they handed me money and then left. There was no love.

After rehab I was desperate to find love somewhere, to find the romantic love that the great poets wrote about. The kind that made one feel alive as though never before. Without the drugs and alcohol I had a void within me that I foolishly thought the love of someone might fill. But no one wanted me. It made me feel as though love perhaps was not something that would happen for me, not romantic love at least.

I had my few friends that I loved with all of my heart, and my mother. But it just wasn't the same. I gave up after being rejected so many times on ever finding the great love of poets. I lied to myself and said I was content with being alone. I was content with just the platonic love of my friends. Perhaps this was some sort of divine retribution for my past trespases? It wasn't something I allowed myself to entertain.

Gerard and Ashley were waiting out in the living room while I tried on an outfit. Josh and I were going out for dinner tonight. It had been two weeks since we first went for coffee and it had become our ritual to go after Josh got out of school. He would meet me there and we would get our drinks and then walk to the park.

Always holding hands.

Despite our somewhat blatant affection I had been nervous about asking him out to dinner. Why was I worried that he would say no when we walked through the park hand in hand. When we always gave each other a kiss on the cheek before parting ways. It seemed pretty obvious but I could be a bit vapid sometimes.

I brought it up casually and he replied with a yes right away. Both of smiled and didn't say a word. It was unspoken that this was going to be our official first date. I wanted everything to be perfect but I didn't want it to be too serious. Dinner at a nice, but not too fancy italian restaurant and then we would see where the night lead us.

But meanwhile I was throwing every article of clothing out of my closet looking for something suitable to wear for a nice but not too serious date. I was mostly and skinny jean and graphic tee kind of guy but that didn't seem special enough for a date with Josh. I had a few nicer button up shirts but I was unsure which one I should wear. Where stripes okay? Did they make me look fat?

"Ashley, Gee! I need your help." I called out to my best friends for fashion advice. They came sauntering into my room and I wondered what I was doing. Was I asking my emo goth friend and my weeaboo friend for fashion advice? Yes I was, but I had conflicting feelings about it.

I held up two of my nicer button shirts up for them to see. "Which one do you guys think I should wear? I'm kind of at a loss."

Ashley immediately took control of the situation. "The grey one with the black pocket. Wear it with a pair of black skinny jeans, the nice ones with no holes cause you're a classy bitch. Wear your black converse sneakers, the newer pair with less mud on them. Cause you're a classy but casual bitch. You'll look amazing and Josh won't be able to keep his hands off of you. Don't you agree Gee?"

"Yup."

"See Gerard agrees with me. I'm a fucking fashionista motherfucker. Now we'll leave you alone to get dressed."

And with that the tornado that was Ashley grabbed Gerard by the arm and yanked him out of the room after her. I just shrugged my shoulders and got dressed in what she told me to. I had no objections and the classy but casual bitch looked seemed just as good if not better than anything I would pick myself.

Once I was dressed and content, though not completely satisfied with my hair I went out to show my friends. I walked into my living room as though I were walking a catwalk and did a few poses for them. "What do you guys think?"

"You're sex on a stick," Ashley called out to me making me blush just a little bit. Gerard just laughed.

"I'm a little nervous, I don't want to expect too much out of tonight but I sort of do in a way. I don't know if I make any sense." I fretted.

Ashley jumped from the couch and grabbed my hand as she stood in front of me. "Tyler my dear precious bean pole of a friend. Don't overthink anything tonight. Just go in with an open mind and see what happens. You got this."

"I got this," I said my voice not sounding so sure.

"Yes you've got this."

I've got this I told myself one last time before I walked out the door waving goodbye to my two best friends. Tonight was going to be a good night.