Dating in Argentina/Histeria Masculina

We all know I'm not exactly batting 1000 in the dating department. If I were, my wonderful parents could rest their collective head on their pillow at night knowing I wasn't a future crazy cat lady/eccentric mystic/my aunt Nancy.

But nothing has confounded me to date as much as dating in Argentina/Histeria Masculina- and I include geometry, the logic behind the math portion of the GMAT, skorts, why people insist on liking bananas and dating in NYC on that list. And um, that's sayin' somethin'.

The other day at work, my friend Poli asked me about said histeria masculina in New York. After my blank stare and my strong conviction that she must be joking subsided, I asked for further explanation since surely she meant something else, no? Turns out it's quite a literal translation, yet really has no literal translation that can be summed up in 2 little words in English.  Essentially, apparently, it's when you meet a guy and they ply you with compliments via text/facebook/the cloud/friendster saying how hermosa you are, how they can't wait to see you again, how about Friday at 2am, or Sunday (Sunday?), etc. You dutifully respond because, hey, in New York, this is a rarity, this someone-acknowledging-in-a-forward-manner-that-they've-met-you-thing. You set up times to meet, you GO to said places, only to have the messaging stop at the exact moment you are supposed to actually meet in the flesh again. Until, of course, a random future time, when the 'you're beautiful, when can I see you?' messages start up again without warning, provocation, reason or context. What? So in about 75 words, there you have it, folks: Histeria Masculina.

Last night, I was out at a milonga (tango hall) watching some lovely dancing when I decided to answer the latest round of 'histeria'. I'm not sure why, exactly, since I knew I was just subjecting myself to another dose of the 'histeria' (it sounds like a disease one could catch in 1690's Salem, no?). The immediate response, in Spanish, was, "I received this message, but who is this?" Yeow. Didn't you...just...text- nevermind. So, in Spanish, I said, "Haha. You've sent me a few messages recently, so I wanted to respond. Nevermind, not worth it." (Ok, I might have left out the "not worth it" part, but my nuanced Spanish was at a low after 3 copas de vino)  The immediate response, "Ah, it's Jill (you got that from my response? No, it's just another example of histeria masculina)...With a face like that, you shouldn't be insulting people. Go back to where you came from, Yankee. No one wants you here." Wow. Kind of uncalled for? Ok. I guess I'll...just...go back to where I came from?

My point being, that, um, my face is just fine, thank you very much, but more importantly, dating is complicated all over the globe. Why did I think it would be different in the Southern Hemisphere?

In other news, when does the homemade pasta shop open? I'm hungry.