Daily Writing Prompt

I was 24, going on 25. I’d been living in New York for two years, having taken a then readily available Green Card from London.
This Card allowed you six months grace after which you were obliged to decide if you wanted to stay in the U.S. or not. Nine months went by and I had fallen in love with the apparently untouchable senior secretary in the media department at Grey Advertising where I worked. We were having a magical relationship.
I was planning to stay. As required, I registered for the draft. Unlikely as it was, I passed the medical A1. It was the time of the Vietnam War. I was certain to be sent though I was more likely to shoot myself in the foot than to kill any Viet Cong soldier. My friends hastened me to the National Guard. My active service was delayed. Then I had to attend a week-end training course. The love of my life was invited to a dinner party. I blew my cool and that was the end of that.
What a sad and painful (for me, at least) goodbye.