His name was John.

I never thought of using online dating before, but nonetheless we were a match. One day after several weeks of messaging on a daily basis, he invited me over. I wasn’t sure how to respond: I was so nervous! I’m not this kind of person, I thought to myself. But we just had such a magical connection—one that I just could not explain through words. I knew deep down that I could not ignore this explainable force, urging me to go, so I agreed to meet him on a Thursday after 8th period. When I arrived at his house, I sat in my car for what seemed a lifetime—thinking about what I would say, how I would act, where would this go?? My mind ran through various scenarios, as it always seems to do when I’m nervous.

I finally got the courage to step out of my car and quickly walk through the dead grass and weeds to his front porch. When I reached the porch, the door opened and there he was. He looked just like he did in his pictures! I couldn’t help but blush—I can’t help but have a thing for older men. I think he could tell I was nervous, and quickly put me at ease by admitting that he, too, was nervous and had been watching me through the curtains as I sat in my car. We both laughed: we were on the same page. We made our way into his house, and he showed me around. An infomercial played in the background as we walked from room to room. I definitely still felt that strong connection with him, and I could tell that he felt it too.

His house was so vintage and I loved it! The last room was the bathroom, or “little boys” room, as he referred to it. I could not help but feel like he was poking fun at my height, since as a guy I have always been insecure about being short; but I forgave him immediately after I saw that smile—that same smile that had drawn me to him the minute I laid eyes on his dating profile. We stood at the dark entrance of his bathroom. We both knew in our hearts where this was leading as we stared into each others eyes while the muffled dialog of a crock-pot infomercial continued to play in the other room.

Before I knew it, his wrinkled lips were on mine, my arms … wrapped around his waist, and his leathery fingers … running through my hair as he led me slowly into the walk-in shower. I removed my clothes, and he forced me against the cold shower wall. I’ve never felt so alive! We stood there, entangled in our unholy love as the smell of baby powder engulfed us. As time went on, he began to lose strength, so we made our way to the shower seat where he sat down. I finally could take the lead, paying homage to this brave man who had served our country so many years ago. He gestured to me. I knew what was to come. I reached down and found a bottle of L’Oreal No Tears Shampoo. I knew this would have to do for tonight because love could not wait. Now let me tell you that the marketing is a lie! No tears?!?!—I wish. I wept in his arms as I straddled our hero’s wrinkled figure. For hours he serenaded me with a song from the war as tears ran down my face, down our bodies, and into the shower drain – our feet soaked in scarlet bubbles.

I never spoke to John after that beautiful night. I think it was because we both knew that a night like that could never happen again … either that, or because he had a stroke the next day. I’ll guess I’ll never know. All I know is he will always be in my heart, and that is all that matters. Sometimes when I’m lonely, I’ll turn on the TV to an infomercial, to feel like he’s right there with me again. I’ll always remember the brave man who shed blood for our country, and I only pray that he remembers the young boy who also bled for this hero’s last night on earth.