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.

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!')."

There's been some recent confusion about a post I wrote last fall. In What Men Don't Understand When They Complain, "It's Only Creepy If The Guy Isn't Hot," I made the very accurate and straightforward statement that flirting is only fun when it's reciprocated. Yes, I acknowledged, attractiveness does affect the likelihood of your flirting being reciprocated, and that sucks for people who are not attractive. 

But continuing to hit on someone who isn't interested is a good way to be labeled creepy, and there are better ways to actually find love. 

Image: @TheHappyTalent on Instagram

Let me start by saying that I love you. I love that you want to be there for me. I love that you're showing concern for my health and recovery. It means so much​.

But can I just, real quick, tell you what my mornings have been like since my injury?

While traveling in Malaysia this year, I met the most amazing woman. Vivacious, brilliant, and adventurous, this girl and I kayaked several miles of open sea in search of fish species we'd never seen before. We lay on the beach all night, watching the stars and eating watermelon infused with duty-free vodka. We trekked the python- and cobra-filled jungle in search of the elusive Penis Plant. 

"All disease," some antivaxxing dumbass who, apparently, is writing a book about his amazing perspective and incredible life experiences, "comes from a toxic mindset and bad lifestyle choices."

"Right," I replied. "And the woman who runs marathons and does yoga every day and eats kale who still gets cancer...?"

"There is something wrong in her mind. Maybe she has a bad marriage or something."

Angkor Wat. Image: @TheHappyTalent on Instagram.

On June 4, 2019, I was in Hong Kong, honoring the victims of Tiananmen Square alongside tens of thousands of Hongkongers whose freedom is in peril, and mainland Chinese citizens who aren't allowed to discuss June 4 in their hometowns. 

Then I hopped on a plane, traveled back in time to San Francisco, and lived June 4 all over again, this time commemorating the travesty by singing "Ohio" by Crosby Stills and Nash. Angrily repeating the refrain, "Four dead in Ohio! Four dead in Ohio! Four dead in Ohio!" I kept thinking about two things:

As I've mentioned in several recent posts, I've been traveling around Southeast Asia the last few months -- and one of my favorite things about travel is exploring cultural differences. 

One that keeps popping up this year... is sex. Specifically, sex taboos.