I saw [MARILYN SHAW] at a coffee shop in [MANHATTAN] today. I forgot how much [SHE] looks like [JULIA FOX]. They are a [THIRTY] year old [SEX COLUMNIST] who’s been in NYC for [TWELVE YEARS] now. Every time we run into each other, they are always [ADROIT AND COMPELLING] but I’ve heard people say they can also be [FICKLE AND OPINIONATED]. [FEVER BY PEGGY LEE] reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio.
waking up in the morning, thinking about so many things, i just wish things would get better..... ANYWAY hello sports fans! i’m a, 26, in pst and i’m here with my little mess marilyn shaw. [adore delano vc] party @villagestart
marilyn grew up baltimore, though you wouldn’t have suspected it with the way she so easily navigates the city - also yes, she does hate the moniker of “marilyn from maryland”
she comes from a relatively small family, with a younger sister and a single mom
she was always encouraged to defy expectations and bend the rules, which she mistook as an excuse to be needlessly rebellious.
was always far more clever than she let on, very bombastic and outspoken
moved to the city at eighteen with some friends who have all scattered by this point
took up a series of odd jobs, ranging from waitress, dog walker, bartender at a seedy strip club, you name it
through all of this, marilyn came into contact with a lot of people with varying views on sex, culture, etc and began blogging about it through a website that began picking up traction
it was more of a freelance thing over the years that she did for the hell of it, until new york magazine took an interest a few years ago
now she writes weekly columns regarding sex, love, and various opinion pieces
very much a party girl, very outlandish, very fran fine-esque style
charming, funny, engaging but also fickle and a definite flight risk
as for connections, i’d love some pals! party friends! maybe some people who enjoy her writing! some exes would be fun, especially if they’re not thrilled about including in her writing (or maybe they love it lol)! hook ups, fwb, all that jazz, i’m open to aaaanything
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he’s sipping on the bourbon drink , he doesn’t know if he could take another one but he asks for one , he has no one to go home to ; what’s the point ? as he is about to speak , he is interrupted by the femme , grassy hues scan her features as he looks at the ❝ i appreciate your offer but I’m good , I’m not good at talking to people . ❞ it had been a long time since he had last even tried talking to a girl , he wasn’t going to start now ❝ you’ll have better luck with anyone else . ❞
“aw, man, you shouldn’t have said that. now you’re a challenge, and i’m prone to have fun with those,” marilyn only grows more comfortable beside him, waving down the bartender for another round for whatever’s fruity and strong; it’s all lighthearted, though, exchanging glances between the male and his admirer. “i don’t know, she’s pretty gorgeous, and for all i know, she’s gonna kick my ass for making a move on you. which i’m totally not. yet.” her honesty always seems likely of making or breaking her. “we gotta get you talking before we get you flirting. and unfortunately for you, i’m pretty hard to shake.”
her dark gaze flicks to the figure Marilyn spoke about, landing on a familiar face, dressed in red. “Jesus Christ,” Yaz breathes, rolling her eyes and turning away from the figure, “you ever sleep with someone and feel like they follow you everywhere? Because fuck, I slept with him last week and have seen him pop up twice now. Like the one night stand version of Whac-A-Mole” She sips on her whiskey, like a lifeline, before shooting Marylin her own smirk, “ but you’re welcome to go speak to him yourself. Go ahead.”
marilyn’s tempted to scoff, but she can’t necessarily blame anyone for becoming fixated on yaz — as much as the girl drives her crazy, she’s also gorgeous and whip smart, a difficult combination to take. “maybe you gotta start whacking them harder to make the point stick. never really known you to go easy on anyone,” she teases, eyebrow arching thoughtfully and a blurry gaze seeking out her profile through the neon lights. “yeah, because you completely sold me on him: mediocre lay with an inclination for clinginess. wouldn’t necessarily say that’s my type.” she scans the room, considering that nobody else of particular interest seems to be anywhere in sight. “got your eye on anyone tonight? you might have to send me in to suss them out, your taste is known to be dubious at best.”
“not that it’s any of my business,” marilyn breezes by a proper greeting, comfortably tipsy and lips quirked into a wry smirk, “but that gorgeous figure across the bar — red shirt, can’t miss ‘em — has been making come hither eyes at you for the last twenty minutes. now i’m here to offer one of two options: to save you and be a proper distraction so they’ll bounce or to introduce you, really talk you up. personally, i don’t think enough people find romance during dollar beer night.” @villagestart
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Amy didn’t think she’d live to see the day that she was too hungover for a Bloody Mary. It was her go-to ‘hair of the dog,’ tried and true for years after being introduced as a teenager by the tiniest old woman she had ever and would ever see. But even the sight of the tomato juice had her stomach churning. She pushed her sunglasses higher on her nose and yanked the strings on her hoodie, burrowing herself away with a slow groan. If ever there was a sign to bring on more help, this was it. “Hey, want a job?” she asked the person nearest, her voice low and unbothered, no hint of humor though she was joking. Mostly. “No experience necessary.” She even slid her untouched shoestring fries their way to sweeten the deal. @villagestart
“honest to god, do not tempt me — i’ve got an editor riding my ass about a deadline and i’ll be honest, you’re always lookin’ very cute behind that bar,” marilyn grins, languidly sipping at her long island iced tea and arching an eyebrow at the brunette. “i don’t think mixology is in my future, given the countless nights i’ve nearly perished because i didn’t know the right amount of tequila to douse in a margarita. weak asses.” considering the state that amy’s in, however, she rests her chin atop the palm of her hand and snags a french fry with the other, “if you need some assistance tonight, however, i’m totally down to help. i’ve always wanted a coyote ugly moment.”
“is twitter art jock a suitable career choice?” emile wonders around the cigarette sticking out from the corner of his mouth. “nyeh? what about poetry cheerleader? …what’s your title, exactly?”
( @villagestart )
“suitable? not at all, you’re selling yourself short — i’d go with twitter aesthetic curator for the big bucks,” marilyn shrugs, sipping idly on her iced coffee and arching an eyebrow toward him. “is this for a resume or a dating app? if you’re trying to get the balls to ask me to help you set one up, i’d suggest coming right out with it.” she manages a smirk, but it’s the most amiable way of ripping off the band-aid.
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WHO: Open.
WHERE: Any cafe or coffeeshop.
WHEN: Anytime of day could work!
TAGGING: @villagestart
The moment the barista told Connie there was an owed balance of $1.73 for her latte, a small part of her shriveled up and died on the inside. She had crossed practically every finger and toe hoping that there was enough left on her rewards card to get something to power her through at least part of her upcoming shift. There was no more coffee in her cheap, tiny apartment and there were hardly any groceries either. She had taken to sneaking scraps to eat at the restaurant to get by, something she wasn’t proud of and would be completely mortified by if anyone were to catch her in the act. Connie was out of money though, her last pennies went to washing a load at the laundry mat. She couldn’t even afford to dry them and had to hang everything as soon as she made it back home. The expenses she had were too high for the amount of money she was making, between a paycheck and the tips she made each shift. Between rent, utilities, some food, and then paying her lawyer’s fees she was completely broke — not that she hadn’t gone through his every month. It was embarrassing, horribly, when these things happened in public and she turned to the person behind her with a pleading look — one that likely displayed desperation, exhaustion, and mortification. Connie was quite simply on the verge of tears. “I’m really really sorry to do this but,” she was forced to pause over the knot forming in her throat, “could I borrow a couple of bucks? I promise I’ll pay you back. Somehow.”
marilyn had been there. well, given that it’s often difficult to divulge exactly what someone is going through, she couldn’t know the specifics, but she understood the general struggle of getting by on not very much, especially in her early years — without a second thought, she strides forward and announces her own order, “bone dry cappuccino and one of those little muffins, along with her order and uh . . . you want a muffin, too?” there’s hardly a pause before she’s soldering on, “yeah, make it two muffins.” she’s not exactly rolling in cash herself, but nobody goes without on her watch, and she enjoys the thought of putting good energy out into the universe. manifesting and the power of persuasion, that’s what the podcast had told her. pocketing her card and shuffling aside, she turns to the blonde as they await their order, “don’t worry about it, i legit feel like a top right now . . . okay kidding, but i just wanna make sure you’re alright, yeah?”
