The Hammer of Thor

It is with great pleasure that B and I introduce our very first Feature Friday Blog! This one is brought to you by one of my best friends, Esmeralda! E is currently gallivanting her way through Australia with the English travel mate mentioned below, thanks for sharing your stories from  the other side of the world! As always, with love, BJ! 

 

I did what every cliché, young hippie does and I went to Southeast Asia on a backpacking trip. I started in Vietnam, where someone randomly suggested using Tinder to meet new friends and backpacking buddies. I had no prior experience with Tinder, besides hearing some funny stories from friends. It seemed innocent enough. I knew I would never actually go on a Tinder date. Just grab drinks and talk traveling…right? Right.

On a very uneventful night, I downloaded the app and cluelessly dove head first into the world of Tinder. I was swiping in directions I didn’t even know existed, for people that I was judging solely on their dog photos and number of countries they’d been too. This is when I stumbled upon Thor. He was a German model who had it going on; long blonde hair, 6 foot 4 inches tall, massive biceps, six pack, enjoyed yoga and long walks on the beach. Swipe right. MATCH. We started talking. He says everything I could possibly want to hear from a mysterious stranger. Traveling, love of animals, yoga, hippie shit with a side of partying. We try to meet up several times, throughout multiple countries, but we always seem to miss each other by a day. He invites me to the Philippines for a yoga retreat, which I was highly considering until I met two English blokes—who I later start to travel with (and falling in love with one of them).

About 2 months after meeting Thor on Tinder (at this point, I wasn’t on Tinder because I was interested in the English dude. I had almost completely forgotten about the German model) I ended up in Chiang Mai, Thailand with two of my girlfriends. We were getting ready for a normal night of drinking until we black out, when I received a Facebook message. From Thor.

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The self-proclaimed, world’s tiniest bar was just down the road from our hostel. I argued in my head for awhile about meeting him—I was in love with someone else, after all—but decided, there’s nothing wrong with meeting for a drink. This was happening.

I drank my .18 cent beer with sweaty palms as I watched every passerby from my bar stool, which was one of two bar stools in the tiny bar. I hear my name being called from the shadows. It was him. This hulking figure emerged before me, and the only thing that the tequila shots and I knew what to do, was run and jump in his arms.

No regrets. He caught me and said, “I never thought I would see you!” in his German accent. Instant melt. He gave me a ride on the back of his motorbike (I was hanging on tighter than a virgin’s va-jayjay) down to another bar.

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We started getting drinks—he was buying them for me and my friends. As we were talking, he had a slick way of flirting with all three of us (not that I cared…again, I was in love with someone else…but drunk enough to address it).

I started giggling and stated, “Oh, wow! You’re a bit of a man whore!” Now, this is where I learned that I had been hanging out with the British for far too long. These are statements that I had become immune to—they were now child’s play—and the rest of the world is apparently still sensitive. Thor? Thor. Did. Not. Like. It. He started getting very anger, pacing around the bar, and yelling German things at me (I’m assuming they weren’t friendly). Again, since I was drunk, this all became even funnier to me. I let him through his tantrum and said, “Come on now, you’re being a bit of a pussy. Let’s just have some fun.” Thor stopped dead in his tracks.

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I can say that I felt a little bad, but I mostly found it extremely entertaining. My friends and I carried on drinking through the night and found ourselves at a restaurant getting drunken snacks around 1am. My phone buzzed. Guess who?

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I sat there eating my veggie rolls, watching a soccer game I didn’t care about, and—once again—watching every passerby. Sooner than later, the hulking figure emerged from the darkness once again. Thor. I jumped up (genuinely ready to apologize to each other and have a friendship…or he’ll whisk me off my feet, change my mind about being in love. I mean, I could see the bulge in his pants and I was ready to ride that hammer off into this German sunset).

“Say you’re sorry,” he barked at me as we approached each other.
“…Um…excuse me, what?”
“You’re wrong, now say you’re sorry so we can be together and make love.”
(I think I was supposed to get wet at this point, but it wasn’t quite working). “What? No. We both need to apologize. You were acting like a child.”
“You can’t say those…those THINGS to people!”
I started laughing,

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“—WHAT?!” I had done it. I had angered all nine realms of the Marvel comics in one sentence, with one word. Now I watched him get more and more agitated within about 5 seconds.

He danced on his feet as if he didn’t know whether to stay or run away. He was snorting fire out of his nose and holding his mouth as if he had no teeth—lips folding inwards. I was just…standing there. Watching this. I had never seen a grow man act so…pussy-like. But I had learned to keep my mouth shut around this boy, so I didn’t say it. As he tap danced in front of me he finally mustered up the courage to speak (…kinda).

“You…you…you!”
And then he did it.

He hesitantly reached his arm up—several times—while still dancing. He opened and closed his fist. He took one step away from me, ready to run away, before extending his arm up to my face, hand opened wide, and bitch slapped me on my right cheek.

He took off like a bullet into the darkness, probably entering another world while riding his hammer. I remained standing, with my arms crossed, in total disbelief. My two girlfriends who had been watching this whole fiasco, busted out laughing. He was an instant delete on Facebook, and our next round of shots was, “To Thor!”

With Love, Esmeralda!

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