You'd think, from the hysterical way white dudes drinking cheap beer at hostel bars tell white women they need to "cover up" while traveling, that I'd've offended someone by now.

(I mean, other than said white dudes. They, like certain parts of certain cultures, do not deserve my respect.)

But no! No bikini, shorts, or tank top I've worn has ever offended a local -- in fact, most seem absolutely delighted for the chance to chat, question, or take a photo with me. Especially the women. 

But... there is one thing I wore once that was​ super offensive, and just thinking about it makes me cringe. 

Some people love Valentine's Day. Others (me) love Valentine's Week. Some people (also me) think you should live every single day​ like it's Valentine's Day.

I'm not outraged. I'm not offended. I'm just sad.

I recently had the good fortune of meeting ​Rich Gosse, chairman of The Society of Single Professionals and author of The Donald Trump Syndrome: Why Women Choose the Wrong Men to Love​.

He told me something none of you millennials are going to believe:

"Even though I founded the second ever online dating site back in the 1990s, I still think meeting face-to-face is best.”

And I agree.

The last place I ever expected my writing to get shared... was incel forums. The Happy Talent is about taking accountability and making changes to self-improve. Incel forums are about whining like little boys and blaming women for all your flaws and shortcomings. 

In particular, these man-children complain that I say things like, "Here are actionable steps to not seem creepy," and, "No means no." 

Nevertheless, I have faith that at least some of these guys actually want to do better. Stop acting creepy. Find love. 

Which is why today's lesson is: if a girl you were hitting on was rude to you, it's probably your fault.

I was a Game of Thrones hipster. I almost certainly read the books before you did, because I read them in 2003. You read them in June 2011. 

The same is not true for me and Harry Potter. I didn't start reading them until 2004, so I only had to wait for two of the books to come out.

You know I have a thick skin -- I love making fun of virtue signaling, regressive feminism, whiny little babies, and social justice warriors. 

But I canNOT stand the disgusting rape song that is "Baby, It's Cold Outside." When it comes on, I literally wait outside until the song is over. 

At times, it's so gorgeous, I kind of tear up a little. 

The last few years, I've been getting more and more into mountain biking. The Bay Area is an incredible place for it. There are dozens of gorgeous beginner and intermediate trails, from Arastradero Preserve in Palo Alto/Los Altos to​ Fremont Older in Saratoga/Cupertino.

​But when I have the time (it takes about 30-40 minutes to get there from Palo Alto, vs. 5-10 to get to Arastradero), I love biking Russian Ridge -- the closer to sunset, the better. 

A recent article in The Harvard Crimson complained that scholarship recipients felt "uncomfortable" and "out of place" at an annual Scholarship Dinner, where students had the opportunity to network with billionaires and millionaires (many of whom were, themselves, scholarship recipients in their days at Harvard) while eating delicious food.

Last Saturday, as I was writing my review of Broadway by the Bay's Into the Woods, an episode of Malcolm Gladwell's Revisionist History began playing. Within seconds, I was able to summarize the entire episode in a few sentences: 

"They're going to say that Olympic silver medalists feel worse than bronze medalists, because silver medalists upward social compare ('I could have been the best in the world, but I'm not,') and bronze medalists downward social compare ('I'm so happy I got a medal!')."