It’s hard being middle-aged, single, and gay. Egan McFadden, well-to-do, generally happy, has just turned fifty, and he's all alone in the world. After years of trying to find a lasting connection with another man that’s not superficial, he is tempted to give up. But the prospect of “the one” won’t let him stop wishing for the moon.
Then there’s Yuyi Morris, who runs the LGBTQ+ center where Egan volunteers. He’s smart, driven, good-looking, and the kind of person who makes you want to be a better human being, just because. Egan and Yuyi have always gotten along. They have similar passions and outlooks on life. It could be that they are a perfect match on paper.
Would it be crazy if they tried for more than friendship?
It was always a pleasure to watch him in his element. I had only ever interacted with Yuyi at the center, or around center-related activities, but it was easy to see his dedication to the community he served, and to his mission. He was driven in a way I didn’t fully understand, because he never really talked about his past, or his family. He kept things professional and about the kids -- nothing else. The man didn’t even have a personal social media account. There were accounts for the center, though.
I remember that when I had first met Yuyi, I’d been bowled over by his sheer presence. I mean, he was perfect, head to toe, eyes a beautiful shade of golden brown, black hair heavily threaded with gray in a pixie cut, a round face and chubby cheeks that were adorable. I had never told him that, though, since I liked breathing.
All anyone knew about him was that he had way too many advanced degrees to count, spoke a bunch of languages and could have had any job he wanted, from a think tank to the United Nations. But he’d chosen to run the center instead. It occurred to me, now, in the finally lifting fog from my hangover and self-pity, that he was someone I would like to get to know better. Go figure.
“Got any plans this evening?” Yuyi was asking as he typed on his keyboard.
“None. I was planning to help sort donations in the back for a couple of hours, then head home and nurse the remains of my overindulgence.”
He cleared his throat as he continued typing, then used the backspace to erase a few words. Was he nervous? “I was wondering if you wanted to have coffee with me later?”
Shocked, I just stared at him, noting the red tint on his cheeks that got brighter with every second.
“Is that a no?” he asked, his skin now a vivid shade of red.
“Sorry! You caught me off-guard. It’s a yes actually. I ... You surprised me, is all. You seem like the kind of person who’s married to their work.”
Yuyi took a deep breath as he sent the email. He leaned back in his chair as he looked at me, his gaze intense as he spoke. “I can be hyper-focused, it’s true, and I’m driven; but I’ve been thinking about my life lately, and what’s missing, on a personal level. I want to change that, make an effort to get closer to the people who mean a lot to me.”
“Like me, you mean?” He nodded. “I ... wow.” I rubbed the back of my neck, still trying to process this turn of events. “It’s funny. I’d just been thinking along those lines earlier today, that I wanted more out of life, if that was still possible at the ripe old age of fifty.”
Smiling, Yuyi said, “Yes, it’s possible.” He stood and grabbed two pairs of gloves from a box next to his desk, tossing a pair to me. “How about we work together on those donations, then head out to the Mak Daddy over on Third Avenue?”
“Sure.” I followed him out of his office and to the right down a couple hallways until we reached the large room where we would be sorting items. I was still in a bit of a daze over Yuyi’s offer of coffee, but who was I to reject the possibility of a connection that had practically landed in my lap?
