“You know, all my other middle-aged gay friends are griping about their saggy butts.” Nicole slides into the cracked pleather booth seat opposite me in the diner filled with laughter and the savor of 20th-century house specialties--paddy melts and spicy fries--which we both always order. It’s noon and the servers seem to glide between tables as if they were wearing inline skates, making the big square room feel somewhat hip despite its worn, bland brown-and-beige décor and mock-terrazzo...